Band: The Police with support from Fergie and Fiction Plane
Venue: The Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG)
Date: Saturday January 26
Reviewed By: Lyn
Corporate box tix to see The Police – yes please!
Up we went to sit down and be waited on with food and drinks. One cannot complain about this at all.
One also cannot complain about the first band of the night ‘Fiction plane’ which features Sting’s son, Joe Sumner, on vocals. Seton Daunt and Pete Wilhoit make the rest of the band. I was blown away by these guys. They are a three piece band from England who brought out an EP in 2001 under the name ‘Santa’s Boyfriend’ and changed their name before signing to a label. Although sound was quite bad from where we were sitting probably due to the MCG not being the best venue for rock and roll music – the music echoes and I feel the music gets lost in the large amount of open air - I still got the feeling that these guys rock. I hear they sell out shows in their home town and around the world and I can see why. This is a band I would see again. They could be described as pop rock, guitar rock and even melodic rock.
Next up was Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas. I thought it odd having her support The Police. Itdidn’t seem the correct mix, and judging from the crowd's response I was right. She bounced about the stage, long hair being whipped around till I began to think her head might fall off. There were 6 dancers with moves and grooves. Fergie, looking sultry, started singing ‘Girl Can’t Help It’ then we heard songs such as ‘My Hump’ (should be called my agony – yes I dislike this song), lots of bum views, shaking that ass. I couldn’t understand her talking as there was still an echo in the sound. There was a medley of BEP songs, which still didn’t seem to shift the crowds on the ground. I think the people around me clapped the most! There were a few costume changes then some covers -‘Live and Let Die’, ‘Start Me Up’ and ‘Black Dog’. No, she didn’t do them justice. There were heaps of empty spots around the arena and although I did hear the MCG wasn’t sold out I think many fans decided to come after Fergie. Baracuda was sung whilst performing cartwheels, then a new outfit, a gold dress, and after a few more songs we heard ‘Fruitilicious’ and we were thanked by Miss F then off she fluttered.
It was getting dark, and the show was held off a bit for the Australia Day fireworks held over the city. Finally the crowd screamed and cheered at the first sign of The Police. SOS is the starter song which had the stadium cheering even louder. Songs we heard are ‘Walking On the Moon’, ‘Don’t Stand So Close To Me’. Sting truly has an amazing voice and thankfully the sound was enjoyable throughout the set. At one point we were shown a grasshopper which seemed to have taken a liking to the stage and sat neat Sting for the entire show - at one point it was sitting on his water bottle! The band may be older and grey but they can still belt out tunes and play those instruments as if they are teenagers again. More songs include ‘Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic’, ‘De Do Do Do De Da Da Da’, ‘Walking In Your Footsteps’, ‘ I Can’t Stand Losing You’, ‘Roxanne’ (with appropriate red lights), ‘So Lonely’ and ‘Every Breath You Take’.
The MCG went crazy even though it was only half full. Most people danced and sang away and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. This was my first time to see The Police and I was most impressed. Sting tells us the last time they played here was in 1980 at Festival Hall.
It was a beautiful night with clear skies, a few wines and a truly memorable performance. Rod Laver would have been a more fitting venue, but hey, I’m not complaining about my seats!
Thanks Mushroom Music :-)
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Goodby Motel and Armen Firman
Band: Goodbye Motel and Armen Firman
Venue: The Public Bar
Date: November 18 2007
Reviewed By: Adam Sharp
The pendulum of musical dominance has traditionally swung between the UK and America. Individual cities have taken their turn fronting their countries’ periods of ascendancy within the alternative music realm; Liverpool, Detroit, Manchester, Seattle, London and New York all being considered the place where all other bands look to for inspiration at one time or another. Recently Canada, and specifically Montreal, has emerged as an additional player in this tug of war, spearheaded by Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade and The Stills. Scandinavia is also proving to be a hotbed of groundbreaking bands of late, from Denmark’s Mew and Kissaway Trail to Norway’s Poor Rich Ones and Sweden’s Shout Out Louds. Melbourne may well be the next major contender to the throne and tonight’s two acts may well be at the forefront of such an uprising.
First on in the tiny Public Bar is the ever-growing in stature Armen Firman. The five piece clearly just love being on stage and their presence on it is becoming more assured with each of their high octane sets. The Kashmir influenced Long Lost Cause with its rampageous snare drumming, anthemic choruses and soaring riffs has never sounded better. Crowd favourite Porch Dweller bounces by with a delightful insouciance on the back of a meandering bass line and gently cascading guitars.
Though headliners Goodbye Motel have been together for less than two years, half of its members have played together for over a decade. This shows in their cohesion and highly developed understanding of dynamics, showcased impeccably by the insistent surge of All That Bad or the expansive sweep of Hell Out Of Here.
Goodbye Motel’s sound successfully melds the sprawling Northern Soul era The Verve with the accessible musicality of Death Cab For Cutie and the wistful atmospherics of Swedish band Kent. Their influences are tightly woven together with their own innovative thread to create a mesmeric blanket of sound. They demonstrate how far they have taken this sound with Sooner Or Later which begins when a mournful piano coalesces with a distant sounding, tribal drum march and hushed, treated vocals; the track then builds majestically before ultimately taking off.
It would not be too bold a statement to say Goodbye Motel and Armen Firman are two of the finest indie rock bands currently plying their trade in Australia. So if you want Melbourne to triumph in the almighty global tussle for supremacy check them both out at once. Your country needs you!
Venue: The Public Bar
Date: November 18 2007
Reviewed By: Adam Sharp
The pendulum of musical dominance has traditionally swung between the UK and America. Individual cities have taken their turn fronting their countries’ periods of ascendancy within the alternative music realm; Liverpool, Detroit, Manchester, Seattle, London and New York all being considered the place where all other bands look to for inspiration at one time or another. Recently Canada, and specifically Montreal, has emerged as an additional player in this tug of war, spearheaded by Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade and The Stills. Scandinavia is also proving to be a hotbed of groundbreaking bands of late, from Denmark’s Mew and Kissaway Trail to Norway’s Poor Rich Ones and Sweden’s Shout Out Louds. Melbourne may well be the next major contender to the throne and tonight’s two acts may well be at the forefront of such an uprising.
First on in the tiny Public Bar is the ever-growing in stature Armen Firman. The five piece clearly just love being on stage and their presence on it is becoming more assured with each of their high octane sets. The Kashmir influenced Long Lost Cause with its rampageous snare drumming, anthemic choruses and soaring riffs has never sounded better. Crowd favourite Porch Dweller bounces by with a delightful insouciance on the back of a meandering bass line and gently cascading guitars.
Though headliners Goodbye Motel have been together for less than two years, half of its members have played together for over a decade. This shows in their cohesion and highly developed understanding of dynamics, showcased impeccably by the insistent surge of All That Bad or the expansive sweep of Hell Out Of Here.
Goodbye Motel’s sound successfully melds the sprawling Northern Soul era The Verve with the accessible musicality of Death Cab For Cutie and the wistful atmospherics of Swedish band Kent. Their influences are tightly woven together with their own innovative thread to create a mesmeric blanket of sound. They demonstrate how far they have taken this sound with Sooner Or Later which begins when a mournful piano coalesces with a distant sounding, tribal drum march and hushed, treated vocals; the track then builds majestically before ultimately taking off.
It would not be too bold a statement to say Goodbye Motel and Armen Firman are two of the finest indie rock bands currently plying their trade in Australia. So if you want Melbourne to triumph in the almighty global tussle for supremacy check them both out at once. Your country needs you!
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Mojo Juju, Snake Oil Merchants, Chickens and Robots
Band: Mojo Juju and The Snake Oil Merchants, supported by Made For Chickens By Robots
Venue: The Old Bar
Date: Saturday 19th January, 2008
Reviewed By: Heather
Well, these are definitely two of the most interestingly-named bands I have ever seen. It took me a little while to settle into the groove on that wet afternoon in Fitzroy, but once I was there I never wanted to leave. I have Emma Wild to thank for the experience, after she repeatedly and heartily recommended I check out Mojo Juju's Myspace. I'm so glad I did.
I stepped into The Old Bar, thankful for the reprieve from the weather. As the name suggests, it's old. The walls are plastered in Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, Bob Dylan and vintage movie posters, along with The Old Bar's own gig flyers. Various relics and bric-a-brac probably scrounged from Grandpa's shed rounded off the decor. A decent-sized beer garden out the back contrasted with the tiny bar, small adjoining band room and pint-sized stage.
Made For Chickens by Robots is a one-man-band. Times seven, but still only one man. A megaphone, a suitcase, a guitar and some other interesting instruments (read: I have no idea what else he was playing) rounded out a very bizarre but intriguing act. In the absence of words to describe the scene on stage, I'll lift the blurb from the website:
He can count to 3 in seven different languages. He uses only the finest selection of low quality factory-rejected farm animals, such as a moo moo cow, a bah bah sheep, and a billy goat that sounds more like a broken moped than a goat, to authenticate his sound. One-man-cowturd-band from Stinker, Australia, MADE FOR CHICKENS BY ROBOTS plays resonator guitar, bangs a suitcase and an icecream can with his feet, conducts a choir of Australiana farm animals, and mumbles incomprehensible rubbish through a bullhorn megaphone with just the one mouth and four limbs he was born with.
So. That's him. The megaphone made for some fantastic DIY sound effects, and they fit well with the slightly thrashy old school rock/blues/garage/sideshow sound that came from the stage. Despite my furrowed brow and my difficulty in comprehending exactly what I was seeing, the oddly catchy tunes caught me by surprise and I found myself enjoying the show. It's a must see for anybody who likes... well, either doesn't like anything or loves everything really, because there is absolutely nothing I can compare the music to. All I can say is get along to a show and attempt to figure it out for yourself.
After a short break and some sound checks, Mojo Juju took to the tiny stage with The Snake Oil Merchants crammed in around her. I was a little worried they ran the risk of being hit with the trombone slide, but the set was uneventful in that respect. There were six instruments in total - an abbreviated version of the album musicians - drums, trombone, bass, guitar, accordion and singing saw.
I felt as if I'd been transported to the high seas in the 1600's. Gypsy and pirate references were scattered about the lyrics and Very Difficult To Pronounce's affirmation "We're for dancing!" set the mood and left no doubt as to what the band was there to achieve. The accordion and singing saw were not just there for show - both were applied liberally and the odd coupling actually worked incredibly well.
Mojo's voice was a huge surprise. Her sultry blues tones were gorgeous, and the depth in her voice could give Aretha a run for her money. Her massive notes were effortless and her scatting masterful. I couldn't have been more impressed.
Very Difficult To Pronounce, The Clown Prince of Misrule (the voice of The Snake Oil Merchants) is the embodiment of Borat's rebellious brother. He acted out the song lyrics and danced amongst the crowd serenading members of the audience and ordering beer from the bar. His melodromatic antics provided the off the wall comic relief that really made the performance.
Unfortunately, the timing of the gig (mid-afternoon Saturday) meant that the oft-requested dancing was almost non-existent. I would love to go to a later performance one day to see the night time side of the band. The impromptu singalong of "La la la la la la la la" during The Warning was a great ending to an unforgettable afternoon.
I hear tell they may be back in March 08. Let's hope.
Venue: The Old Bar
Date: Saturday 19th January, 2008
Reviewed By: Heather
Well, these are definitely two of the most interestingly-named bands I have ever seen. It took me a little while to settle into the groove on that wet afternoon in Fitzroy, but once I was there I never wanted to leave. I have Emma Wild to thank for the experience, after she repeatedly and heartily recommended I check out Mojo Juju's Myspace. I'm so glad I did.
I stepped into The Old Bar, thankful for the reprieve from the weather. As the name suggests, it's old. The walls are plastered in Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, Bob Dylan and vintage movie posters, along with The Old Bar's own gig flyers. Various relics and bric-a-brac probably scrounged from Grandpa's shed rounded off the decor. A decent-sized beer garden out the back contrasted with the tiny bar, small adjoining band room and pint-sized stage.
Made For Chickens by Robots is a one-man-band. Times seven, but still only one man. A megaphone, a suitcase, a guitar and some other interesting instruments (read: I have no idea what else he was playing) rounded out a very bizarre but intriguing act. In the absence of words to describe the scene on stage, I'll lift the blurb from the website:
He can count to 3 in seven different languages. He uses only the finest selection of low quality factory-rejected farm animals, such as a moo moo cow, a bah bah sheep, and a billy goat that sounds more like a broken moped than a goat, to authenticate his sound. One-man-cowturd-band from Stinker, Australia, MADE FOR CHICKENS BY ROBOTS plays resonator guitar, bangs a suitcase and an icecream can with his feet, conducts a choir of Australiana farm animals, and mumbles incomprehensible rubbish through a bullhorn megaphone with just the one mouth and four limbs he was born with.
So. That's him. The megaphone made for some fantastic DIY sound effects, and they fit well with the slightly thrashy old school rock/blues/garage/sideshow sound that came from the stage. Despite my furrowed brow and my difficulty in comprehending exactly what I was seeing, the oddly catchy tunes caught me by surprise and I found myself enjoying the show. It's a must see for anybody who likes... well, either doesn't like anything or loves everything really, because there is absolutely nothing I can compare the music to. All I can say is get along to a show and attempt to figure it out for yourself.
After a short break and some sound checks, Mojo Juju took to the tiny stage with The Snake Oil Merchants crammed in around her. I was a little worried they ran the risk of being hit with the trombone slide, but the set was uneventful in that respect. There were six instruments in total - an abbreviated version of the album musicians - drums, trombone, bass, guitar, accordion and singing saw.
I felt as if I'd been transported to the high seas in the 1600's. Gypsy and pirate references were scattered about the lyrics and Very Difficult To Pronounce's affirmation "We're for dancing!" set the mood and left no doubt as to what the band was there to achieve. The accordion and singing saw were not just there for show - both were applied liberally and the odd coupling actually worked incredibly well.
Mojo's voice was a huge surprise. Her sultry blues tones were gorgeous, and the depth in her voice could give Aretha a run for her money. Her massive notes were effortless and her scatting masterful. I couldn't have been more impressed.
Very Difficult To Pronounce, The Clown Prince of Misrule (the voice of The Snake Oil Merchants) is the embodiment of Borat's rebellious brother. He acted out the song lyrics and danced amongst the crowd serenading members of the audience and ordering beer from the bar. His melodromatic antics provided the off the wall comic relief that really made the performance.
Unfortunately, the timing of the gig (mid-afternoon Saturday) meant that the oft-requested dancing was almost non-existent. I would love to go to a later performance one day to see the night time side of the band. The impromptu singalong of "La la la la la la la la" during The Warning was a great ending to an unforgettable afternoon.
I hear tell they may be back in March 08. Let's hope.
Friday, January 11, 2008
The Jackson Jackson Genie
Band: Jackson Jackson, supported by The Genie
Venue: SoCo Cargo, St Kilda Beach
Date: Thursday 10th January, 2008
Reviewed By: Heather. Photographs by Alex.
It was a hot and balmy night with gorgeous views of the sun setting over Port Phillip Bay when we entered St Kilda's flavour of the month venue, SoCo Cargo.
A red carpet led us into the club, which is a temporary structure created from shipping containers. In February it will be packed up and moved to a new location. For the time being, though, I couldn't think of a more fitting place for it.
Once inside we were treated to ultra-trendy interior decorating. Funky retro lamps and comfy couches combined with traffic signals, gorgeous picture frames and swirling lights and made it seem very little like converted containers. The bar was well stocked with a lot of premixed Southern Comfort - other drinks were available, but a little more hidden away. I was pleasantly surprised to see jugs of iced lemon water sitting on the bar. It was a very welcome change from paying premium prices for tiny bottles of water, and in my view much more responsible. I'd love to see more of it from other venues.
A small door led out into a little courtyard. It would have been a lovely area, except that one whole wall was actually the line of port-a-loos. However, out in this tiny outdoor area I found Harry and Will lounging around before the set started. At the risk of looking like a teenaged groupie, I headed over to introduce myself. It was great to meet the people I've seen so many times on stage.
Eventually, The Genie took to the stage. This little group is made up of three of the members of Jackson Jackson and The Cat Empire, Ollie McGill on keys, Will Hull-Brown on drums and Ryan Monro on bass guitar.
I'm not really a fan of electronica music, so I wasn't sure if I would like the performance. However, by the second song I found my feet were tapping of their own accord. So - how to describe their music? It was everything from electronica to reggae and back. Sort of how I imagine Ministry of Sound stuff would be if the musos were all on acid. Ollie has revived the keytar and brought it into a new era. Like the Rain Man of keys with a touch of schitzophrenia, he dived into the keys and somehow among the frenzied thrashing, the music that came from his his keyboard-surrounded corner was completely different, and unbelievable, and extremely off-centre. With only the three musos onstage, Ryan's bass came to the fore. Usually pushed back behind the rest of the band, doing his thing and remaining relatively unnoticed, he rushed forward with incredible bass riffs and showed his mastery. Will, what can I say, he played. He really, really played. For over an hour. Then he got onstage with Jackson Jackson and got another workout. On a 40-odd degree night, it was astounding. The tempo and rhythm changes were relentless, but he kept on top of it the whole night.
I didn't recognise any of the tunes played by The Genie, other than Dr Who, which was a roaring success. My husband was absolutely positive he heard the Car City jingle in the first song, but I'm rather dubious about that. Suffice to say, The Genie do what they do. And they do it well. No, I'm not an instant fan, but I'm a great admirer of musicians who master their craft. Of which these are definitely three.
So. Onto the main course, The Genie returned to the stage as backing for Jackson Jackson, the brainchild of Harry Angus and Jan Skubiszewski. Harry was his usual self - commanding on stage and creative in his direction of the band. Jan was his usual self too - frantically pressing buttons and masterfully co-ordinating his, um, button-pressy-thingy. I have no idea what it's called, so for the purposes of clarity I'll call it a desk. Anyway, whatever it is, it worked. He pressed the buttons and made magic come out. He even had some pretty impressive button-pressy-thingy (desk) solos.
Unfortunately my favourite Jackson Jackson Five member, Elana Stone, was sick, but the other three girls carried the performance of amazingly well, joined by bass singer Rory Osman.
The night went along, well, almost hitchless. Harry brought out his falsetto, and once he remembered his cue, Ollie was fantastic on his keytar at end of Cats Rats and Pigeons. My standouts for the night were definitely Eliza and Grab a Gun. I was disappointed A Hole in the Garden was skipped in favour of the not-quite-Jackson-Jackson-ish "Lonely Ooh", but I don't get to write the setlist.
There was something slightly lacking in this particular perfomance, though. I wouldn't have noticed had I not attended their gig at the Corner Hotel in 2007, but the night in general was missing a little atmosphere. The electricity in the air was running a few kilowatts below what I had heard before. I don't know what to put my finger on as the cause - the band, the crowd or the venue - but there was a definite difference. It's a negligible niggle in light of the fantastic night that was completely owned by Harry and Jan.
As we bid goodbye to St Kilda beach for the evening and walked down Acland Street the sounds of Jackson Jackson followed. Their hypnotic rhythms and seductive lyrics will still be with us for a while.
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