Primal Scream live in Melbourne

Venue: The Billboard Club
Date: 08/02/09

“Melbourne’s mad for it, man – This place is like the Manchester of Australia!” High praise indeed from a true Manc legend, bassist Gary 'Mani' Mounfield, who in another life gave Stone Roses their signature sound and was courted by Oasis after the Roses demise in 1996. A man who’s boyhood dream was to become a chef, is now frying audiences minds as part of one of the most exciting/terrifying live bands to hit town in a long time. Pre-show, Mani is truly bursting to play tonight for a crowd who have probably been recovering for the last 9 years since Primal Scream last ‘did Melbourne’.

Tripping back to the 2000 Big Day Out, singer Bobby Gillespie kicked off the show with the single expression “Hey we’re gonna fuck yer!” before assaulting the crowd for 2 hours with the dense, heavy electronica of then current album XTRMNTR. Tonight, is the darker sequel. Although the bands’ most recent output has been less heavy and more song based, in the show, they arm each of the tracks with power-drills designed to penetrate the skull. The only light relief comes with the dreamy Higher Than The Sun from 1991’s breakthrough Screamadelica album. Before this single moment to breathe we are pummelled with incredible renditions of Kill All Hippies, Swastika Eyes and Miss Lucifer from their intense electro-metal phase. There’s no stopping between songs to tune up, or down either for this band, who crisply nail each song to the end of the previous one in an expertly managed unbroken flow.

The set is more or less a best of mix up, but with the criminal exception of favourites Loaded and Come Together. It’s hard to be picky over such things though when they deliver the meaty, funkified Jailbird, putting an instant end to the non-dancing that’s been prevalent tonight. It’s the stomp, and sing-it-back moment of the night: “I’m yours, your mine, gimme more of that jailbird pie!!” Who cares what it means, it just sounds fantastic. Meanwhile the room is awash in spectacular coloured lights, centre pieced with a single green laser light which act as fine embellishments to the mesmerising sound of the band reaching a critical pace.

The much loved Screamadelica album gets revisited with the stunning Shine Like Stars. This is a glimpse of the freelovin’ psychedelic Primal Scream who were put to bed many years ago in favour of the demon conjuring fuzz metal band of the 1999-2004 era. Martin Duffy's keyboard forces it’s way through the din with thick pulsing sonic squelches that rang in my ears long after the concert ended. Gillespie’s singing is suddenly louder and distorting as he tries to compete with the looping frenetic sample. The people at the front are all clapping in time, arms aloft. We’re now drenched in that spiralling laser light, as it broadens to fill the room, turning our view of the stage into a gorgeous neon tunnel with Primal Scream at the centre, enticing us into their crazy world. The goose bumps are set to remain as the rapid kick drum intro to Rocks lifts the whole room. Bobby’s in our ears, “Are you ready to get your rocks off Melbourne?!” We were, alright. Greatest party song, EVER. It feels like the end is coming. We sing/scream our appreciation through the chorus of Rocks and keep the love going as they leave the stage giving us our second moment to breathe. Then the encore, which nothing could have prepared us for. XTRMNTR album track, Accelerator screamed into life and fell upon us, heavy and sickening. The weight and power of this monstrous track will stay in our brains long after the show. The final kick came as Mani dropped his bass against his unnaturally huge amp, and shouts into Bobby’s mic, “Thanks Melbourne yoo fookin’ rock. Mad for it!” Leaving us with deafening feedback.

As the occasional light hits peoples faces, there’s a mix of shock and disbelief as we look around to readjust our eyes and our senses. I felt like my central nervous system had been ripped out and stuffed back in wrong way round. A wholly satisfying experience.

lEIGh5

Jimmy Urine (Mindless Self Indulgence) interview

One hour before taking to the stage in Ohio, Jimmy Urine is in the middle of taking conference calls, promoting his band, Mindless Self Indulgence’s upcoming Australian tour and their current album If... I suggest it's an unusual way to warm up pre-show, he agrees and tells me, "C'mon, pump me up dude!" I tell him a joke involving a conversation between a banana and a vibrator... (laughing) "That's great for me, I love the whole inanimate objects talking thing. It's my favourite kind of humour!"

It's a strange start to the interview with this highly animated character, and so I decide to get a little deep. I ask if he worries with a name like Jimmy Urine that people might take him too seriously. "I haven't ever thought about it! (laughs), I mean we just like to do the whole wacky names bit as a freedom thing, just to make it fun for ourselves." In 2008, this US mock-rocker four-piece released their fourth album If.., I want to know, what's the rest of that question. For a band with song titles like Dicks Are My Friends, it sounds a little philosophical. "If, is open to interpretation that's what the deal is there. You have to have your own If."

It's too early so I decide to change tact and bring up the band's new song, a bizarre homage to John Lennon’s assassin, Mark David Chapman ("...Hey, when he world's overrun with too many bands/Who's it time for?...") and wonder if Yoko Ono has started making angry phone calls... "I don't think anybody would take seriously enough what I say to give it a second thought. I was talking about how basically there are bands still going on for the wrong reasons, and bands that reform because suddenly they have this whole young fan base who only know them through the internet. The net is really to blame, because nothing (music) has a chance to age and gradually lose its relevance and get replaced by something else and ultimately become a thing of nostalgia. Instead you’re gonna end up with these old guys sitting in the corner, you know eating their own shit going ‘oh yeah, Jay-Z – love that jam!’"

Nostalgia is in short supply with Urine, he takes aim at a few more sacred cows including Jimmy Page, (I Hate Jimmy Page) and leaves the subtleties to the more inhibited. Surprisingly though Jimmy isn’t even that passionate about music. “It’s just easy, you know. I can sing about this shit and act like a fucking idiot in front of a crowd and people love it. I’m much more into movies than music really.” Sample lyric from the ballad Two Hookers and an Eight Ball:
“…Two hookers and an eight ball
Can you believe that I write this shit
Two hookers and an eight ball
Stupid people thinkin' I am cool…”
“You know when I wrote that song," Jimmy interjects "it was more against the people who try too hard to shock for attention, or just wanna get their lovey-dovey song on the radio. There’s no real integrity in any of that stuff, and I was just having my say for what it’s worth.”

Perhaps the ‘shock for bucks’ thing is very outdated? Marilyn Manson and Slipknot always looked a little more silly than scary to me. I suggest to Jimmy that Victorian-era dresses and powdered wigs would be, these days more shocking in a rock concert than razor blades and platform boots. “Yeah I could definitely get into that. Maybe we should do a side project, like Corey from Slipknot and just have a serious rock band on the side with the wigs and stuff, and do the dumb-ass thing just to get paid!” (laughs)

Mindless Self Indulgence have managed to remain fairly independent, by only signing one album deals whenever they are due to release a new LP. I wonder if this has continued to be a positive way to operate. “Yeah well with regular record contracts you have some guy saying ‘you’re gonna give us this kind of record by this date…’ and we decided that with one-off contracts we could work at our own pace and make the music we want to make. At the end of the day people have to make money in this game and we don’t kid ourselves or see the record industry as some evil monster, it’s just business and I understand that labels need to make money to survive. We still have to do the work at any rate.” It’s clear there’s no malice in Jimmy’s tongue-in-cheek approach to the business and his music. His act is essentially a reaction to the overly macho Limp Bizkit/Korn/Papa Roach drones. With that in mind, I can’t help asking Jimmy, if Mark Chapman is released from prison tomorrow – who’s on the hit list? “I think I’d like to just see a massive apocalyptic wipe-out and then see who’s left standing. Survival of the fittest can’t be argued with.”

lEIGh5

Marky Ramone's Blitzkreig live in Melbourne, 2009 (review)

venue: The Corner Hotel

Bands that carry on after the singer has died - take a bow Queen, INXS, Alice In Chains - is one thing, but drummers that carry on after everyone else in the band has died is really taking the piss. The nostalgia trip of touring so soon after the rest of the Ramones passed on is just a step in the staircase of Marky's life as it stands at the moment. He is busy compiling old footage of The Ramones' hayday (1978-1983) for DVD releases, writing a book about his band and others of the New York scene in the late 70s and launching a clothing range consisting of leather jackets, T-shirts and jeans - which was basically The Ramones' uniform. To go on tour with a new band playing Ramones songs perhaps seems a natural extension of this nostalgia. His band, Blitzkrieg, is lead by ex-Misfits singer Michale Graves (well, only from the later line-up of Misfits, long after Danzig had buggered off), former AntiProduct guitarist Alex Kane, and bassist Clare P. Product (pilfered from a Ramones cover band called Ramonas). Clare and Graves look every bit the image of modern punk fans/band members. Stripey red-and-black arm band thing. Check. Half-shaved head. Check. Piercings. Check. Guitarist Kane, by contrast, looks like he should be riffing it up with Cheap Trick or a Def Leppard cover band (it's a weird mix already), but then throw in Marky Ramone, larger-than-life on an elevated drum stand, still with his 70s bowl mop haircut and a massive set of drum sticks too. It looks as if the revolving stage at a rock music festival got stuck halfway between Murderdolls, Quiet Riot and The Ramones all playing at once.

Tonight is The Ramones greatest hits show for everyone who missed Dee Dee, Johnny and Joey playing The Ramones' greatest hits. Having one Ramone on stage makes it kind of authentic. Kind of, except that it sounds more like Rancid doing a set of Ramones songs instead. Most noticeably missing is Joey's deadpan singing, now replaced with Graves' screamo rendering. Tonight at the Corner Hotel we get the generally mid-tempo songs lost a lot of their swing and melody as they were unceremoniously played out twice the speed of the originals with no stopping between. The Ramones were really more of a garage rock band than a punk band (I'm sorry but punks don't have bowl haircuts, kids), so playing the songs in the style of another band entirely makes it seem a little cheap. Bassist Clare is sporting a freshly ripped Ramones T-shirt (available at the merch stall for a reasonable price), and I realise then the whole thing smells like a bit of a cash-in on the legacy routine. She was even in a Ramones cover band: talk about pop (punk?) eating itself. Cash-in or not, the thrill Blitzkrieg are giving their audience is palpable. There's a frantic sea of mohawks jumping up and down determined to get something real out of the show. There is one very large mohawkend punk in particular that's hard to ignore as he thrashes his body around in approval of every song - resulting in a pile of bodies being shoved two-and-fro - until, like a mini tornado, he clears a decent space all for himself to freakout in.

The age differences represented are unsurprisingly broad; there's even a few dads still in possession of the rage. (They did however fill out a complaint form afterward about the volume and all that unnecessary spitting. Probably). Whatever favourite songs the hardcores came to hear, they almost certainly got, from the band's first ever hit, I Wanna Be Sedated, to Teenage Lobotomy and Shock Treatment. Marky looks focused and not-at-all his age as he goes through the motions playing songs he must know backwards. The whole set is now just a medley, as Blitzkrieg continue to belt through the hits as fast as possible. They wedge Judy Is A Punk, Rock N' Roll Highschool and She's The One all into the space of five minutes. Fan favourites Blitzkrieg Bop and Chinese Rocks were arguably the best of the night, agian not terribly faithful renditions though. A messy thrash through the excellent Pet Cemetary is forgivable but not so is the cover of Creedence's Have You Ever Seen The Rain. Haven't we suffered enough?, I thought. Apparently not, because then comes the possibly ironic inclusion of Louis Armstrong's What A Wonderful World. Not satisfied with just slaughtering Ramones songs, Blitzkrieg have moved on to other peoples'. The encore is akin to watching a wilderbeast explode in slow motion - you can't wait for the end.

To Marky it probably seemed a simple idea - people still love The Ramones, get a new band happening and play the songs people love. Easy. His heart was altogether in the right place. Somehow that idea translated into four people on stage messing about with some old songs. Maybe some passion wouldn't have gone astray for the fans’ sake, who were in the end, the stars of this show.

lEIGh5

Chris Matthews (Headless Chickens) interview

SOMETHING TO CROW ABOUT

The land of the long white cloud has produced many a rare bird but few as unique as the Headless Chickens. Perhaps it was a combination of its relative isolation to the world at large and the fact that NZ boasts a self-sustained, rich music scene that helped create a band like them - we may never know. But whatever primal forces were at work, founding member Chris Matthews managed to guide his band to success without ever compromising creatively. Headless Chickens break-through album Body Blow (1991) has become legendary, producing hits as diverse as Gaskrankinstation and Cruise Control and still stands today as one of the most successful albums ever by a Kiwi band.

As the roadies at Melbourne's Hi-Fi Bar set the stage for Headless Chickens’ first Australian show since 1993, I corner Chris Matthews for a lively pre-gig chat. I begin by asking him if it was difficult getting most of the original band back together for this year's reunion. “Not really for them,” he laughs, “I live in a place called Dunedin and they are all in Auckland, so I had to leave my home and go to them!” The reunion, surprisingly was not Chris’s idea. “No, it started with our drummer Bevan whose girlfriend works for the promoters of Homebake (NZ). They asked if he would consider a one-off reunion show and he had been wanting us to get back together for a while and Homebake was a motive for me.... So I said yes because I was doing sweet FA after the break-up.”

The band’s last official release was 1998’s ‘Greedy’, a highly successful album in their homeland. So what lead to their seemingly untimely split in 2000? “There was just a definite time when I knew we were over. Fiona (McDonald), for one, had left. We had tried working with different people, I had some new songs, but it just wasn’t the same. They were good musicians and everything but we didn’t have the friendships and drive that I had been used to. Work was also very slow and so I just decided to break up the band.” In preparation for the reunion tour the band rehearsed for seven weeks – but was that enough time in retrospect? “Well, we just thought that’d do. Mostly the setlist has stayed the same on this tour as we just didn’t have time to rehearse everything we might have wanted to play.” (At that moment Chris shows me the set list and it’s a goldmine of the Chickens best loved tracks… but I’m still not satisfied.) Chris, where is your amazing cover of Abba’s Super Trooper? (recorded in 1996 for a Flying Nun bands Abba tribute CD.) Looking highly amused he says, “Oh we didn’t rehearse that because there were virtually no live instruments on our version. We wanted to do it really quickly so we just used samples. The guitar on that is actually from a Motorhead song!”

The thought of Abba meets Motorhead doesn’t sound so ridiculous in this era of the mash-up. It’s also a reminder of how innovative this band really was. Our talk turns to possible future releases and I want to know if there are plans for a much overdue Headless Chickens DVD. “A recent show in Auckland was filmed so we might be doing something with that, even if it’s only uploading it to YouTube." He says "You don’t need permission or record company clearance to share privately filmed live performances.” Chris still clearly sees his band as truly independent. “We have a lot of unreleased footage taken by friends of the band performing, some of which dates back to the early days and it’s those things that would really make a DVD release worth doing.” The Flying Nun label has a huge catalogue of superb bands, surely they’re eager to throw open the vaults now that many classic NZ bands are reforming to tour? “Warners bought out Flying Nun and therefore own our back catalogue and aren’t doing anything with it. That does mean that our early vinyl releases, especially Children’s Hour (Matthews’s pre-Headless Chickens band), are gaining value.” He tells me proudly that the first Headless Chickens EP can fetch up to $150 among traders. He should know - Chris is a serious collector of rare, out-of-print Flying Nun releases.

As long as the vaults stay closed the collector market can continue to flourish, a fact I’m sure Chris is content with. He shows great interest in the finer details of the CDs fans bring to him for autographs during our chat. He has an encyclopedic knowledge of his band’s catalogue. “That’s the later Australian edition of our album on Mushroom,” he tells a delighted fan holding a copy of Body Blow. “That was a good release. They added four new mixes that didn’t appear on the NZ version, but the cover art wasn’t as good.” It was a great nerd moment. I felt a thrill knowing some of my own Headless Chickens collection has become rare as hen’s teeth.

lEIGh5

Headless Chickens live in Melbourne, 2008 (review)

w/ support Hercules In New York & Mission Control

(venue: The Hi-fi Bar)

With the possible exception of Bondi, it’s pretty unusual to find the ratio of a 20-1 Kiwi/Aussie audience in Australia. Sure enough though, at Auckland’s most adored band’s surprise reunion show, those were the stats. The mullets were many and the vowels were strained in a room modestly filling out with the band’s homeland devotees. The first support act, Hercules in New York played their short electro-rock set to a very minimal audiences but like any good band, played as though it were a capacity festival crowd. Unusually, the drummer is positioned front and centre stage and the bass amp is up to bowel bothering pitch. The playing is fierce and tight but it seems the sheer volume is what’s keeping a potential crowd huddling around the bar and merch stall. Mission Control have a slightly more cock-rock approach and quite frankly look hot enough to fry an egg on. Song wise, they come in on the same bus as Galvatrons. It’s a high energy start to the night. Now the supports are over, there’s feverish crowing in anticipation of Headless Chickens first Melbourne show in 15 years. Several fans here tonight remember that last show and the looks on their faces give away the devastating joy which we are about to experience.

As one by one the band enter the stage, the front row show their love with some frantic chicken ‘Bok-book-urk’s’. Sounds like someone’s laid an egg in excitement before a single note has even been played. To kick-off they launch straight into the anthemic Donka from rare debut LP Stunt Clown. It’s such a treat to hear brilliant songs like this and Railway Surfing brought back from (almost) obscurity. The dream set-list continues with Cruise Control, where vocalist Fiona McDonald gets to unleash her ethereal voice over a particularly grimey, power-riff version of the group’s biggest hit in Australia.

The set focus is mainly on the hit-making Body Blow period, the only album that featured McDonald throughout. Room however is still left for some of leader Chris Matthews’ post & pre-Fiona tracks such as the psychedelic, guitar heavy Monkey Jar and Cyclic. He is in his element with these less ‘poppy’ pieces but surprisingly, likes to throw in a bit of blues guitar here and there. (I thought he was anarchy!) Chris and Fiona share vocals on most of the material tonight, and rarely is the duo-magic as awesome as it is on Mr Moon. The vocal mics however are just a little too quiet causing the music to sometimes drown out those gorgeous notes but then there’s never a concert without at least one problem. The sight of a techie frantically doing stuff to a guitar pedal is nothing most of us haven’t seen before and tonight is no exception. It’s OK though, Fiona fills in on the mic while some unknown problem is being sorted. “Anyone know any good jokes?” She asks sheepishly. Without waiting, she ads “Alright, I’ll tell one – Two buckets of vomit are walking down the street, they pass a gutter – one says to the other – that’s where I was brought up!” It was good, in a you-had-to-be-there way and she gets kudos as comedy is much harder than music.

It’s midway through the set now and every song is received with wild cheers of approval. They go for back-to-back favourites from this point. The bitter-sweet Juice is sounding as fresh as ever and the colossal Million $ Dream may have been the strongest performance of the night. Then comes Gaskrankinstation and you can just smell the oil as they whip it up into the suburban horror show that it is. By now everyone is jumping and arm waving like lunatics and singing back to the band. They’ve bought us into the eye of the storm and choose that - the perfect moment - to throw in hyper ball-tearer, Donde Esta La Pollo (Where Is The Cock). Up until now, second guitarist Ant Nevison had been barely visible at the back of the stage. He gets the warmest reception as he takes the lead vocal mic for the rap on this Spanish/English party banger.

The passing of time has in no way impaired their notoriously wild live shows. There’s no chance to catch your breath as they fly straight into Choppers, one of Chris’s best vocal tirades – Shouts militantly: “Kill the fat controller! Pray to a new god!” Drummer Bevan is beating the crap out of his kit, the guitars are like a hurricane and soaring above it all is Fiona weaving her sweetly sung “Oh, I can’t believe my ears…” line through the mad racket. The crowd are senseless with joy. We want them to get louder and go further and gallop through the freakin’ room. George is next and a sure sign the end is close. This was their only NZ number 1 single and the last release with Fiona on vocals. It’s a heavy, trip-hoppy piece reminiscent of Curve or even PJ Harvey. The mood shifts in the room, but they still have us in the grip. There’s no waiting for the encore, barely 2 minutes goes by and the band re-emerge launching straight into the groovy, moody Do The Headless Chicken. Watching them exit the stage, it’s hard to believe it’s over. Something was missing. They played all the favourites, the show was magnificent, but the sad knowledge that this was just a one-off was hanging there. It’s time to miss them all over again.

lEIGh5

HI-FI BAR SET LIST 04/12/08: 
Donka
Railway Surfing
Cruise Control
Monkey Jar
Slice
Mr Moon
Totalling Dads Car
Untitled
Soulcatcher
Juice
Million $ Dream
Gaskrankinstation
Donde Esta Le Pollo
Choppers
George
Do The Headless Chicken
Agitpop