Posted by walking rek on Nov 27, 2004 in
dancing rek,
my ears are expensive Myles �Mylo� Macinnes and his album Destroy Rock & Roll are pretty damn famous right now in Australia. So if you are into a bit of ye olde Retro Clash, then chances are you were at one of his gigs last week. Being a little partial to the odd bootleg myself, I was interested to hear what the fuss about Mylo was really about.
For starters the venue struck me as an unusual choice. Tickets sold out well before the nite suggesting that either Mylo really was some intergalactic pop star or that the venue was less then enormous. In this case, the club was definitely swingin the sweaty side of cozy and Mylo was the definitive flavour of the month. The place was packed with pushy glamour types checking each other out and hogging the bathroom whilst the show girls taking drink orders were rushed off their bustled butts. It was apparent early on that this gig was gonna be at full capacity with an uncomfortable number of punters struggling for space around the edges.
Mylo was greeted with an uproarious cheer as the already maxxed out dance floor swelled with 80�s babies posing against his backdrop of pastel pop. Mylo is not famed for his skills as deck technician, but his track selection was a retrospective mix of memorable golden oldies and questionable gambles; highlights for me included Technosonic, Womack & Womack and AC/DC. The music waxed and waned, unlike the crowd who relished every savage cross fade; some punters bordered on insane, particularly whenever Mylo dropped one of the tracks off his album. Despite enjoying himself immensely (he was having it large, dolled up in a t-shirt that will spawn a thousand versions �Mother F@#$ker�s Gonna Droppa The Pinger�) Mylo managed to squeeze an amazing amount of material into his performance; his 2 hour set seemed to go forever. Whilst Mylo certainly proved a hit with the crowd, I found the music a little two dimensional, with no real direction in mood.
The latter part of evening was a messy mash-up of Bang Gang DJ Ajax and friends. Their densely compact sets teased and taunted the audience with indie bootlegs and crafty workings of Franz Ferdinand, Guns�n�Roses, Blur and Scissor Sisters. The nite lacked a lot of groove or soul but the DJ�s kept surprising me with their eclectic selections: I hung about purely to hear what was up next despite the plastic element of the crowd getting increasingly nasty.
In many ways, Mylo rocked the �Rouge. His legions of fans will no doubt be champin at the bit for his sets at Good Vibrations in 2005. I am curious to see how he will perform with his band in a live context and look forward to Dropping the Pressure with a friendlier crowd.
Posted by walking rek on Nov 12, 2004 in
dancing rek,
my ears are expensive Australian Hip Hop. It seems to be all about the lyrics. The message is clearly one of a disillusioned youth grumpy with our nations political agenda. These word beat artists are clever enough to weave a coherent and logical argument, but is the social consciousness of Australian MC’s forgetting the other vital elements of hip-hop music…bounce and groove?
Tonight we gathered round at the Hopetoun to support some familiar faces and give props to the new. I was disappointed that Hermitude did not appear on the set-list and then suffered another devastating blow with the announcement that the beer taps were offline all night. This wasn’t on the flyer! The acoustics at the Hoey are notorious for being tricky but on this occasion the room sounded just right despite some boorish mic technique early on in the evening.
We caught the tail end of the Living Dead Dudes who didn’t really do much besides bellow along to some gloomy loops. I sincerely hope their earlier numbers were more polished because there is not much worse then an MC who bumbles loudly and incoherently through lyrics. The assembly of punters seemed stunned into silence and paralysis throughout this display and a few snuck out to escape the din.
The Awakenings Crew out of Melbourne delivered some enthusiastic stage antics and a handful of witticisms in what turned out to be a two part set spread out over the night. MC’s Hykoo and Mantra managed their mics with practiced ease and played around with some call and response vocal arrangements that worked well. DJ El Gasto accompanied the duo with some crafty scratching but it took the audience a while to warm up, and even then we had to be bribed with the promise of free merchandise. The high light of this set was the Ode to the Middy, an (almost) improvised ditty backed up by the bounciest ragga groove all night.
The host of the night Scott Burns dropped in to say hi and had a burst on the mic with “Hip Hop Slash R and B†a light hearted exploration of a serious issue. He introduced Chasm, DJ and producer, who provided the back beats for the rest of the night. The musical colours varied between dark and brooding, heavy orchestral tones that seemed a little too melodramatic to me: there were a few moments of rubber groove that demanded attention, but for the most part the lyricists had the lime light.
Urthboy was the act most people were waiting for. This MC earned his stripes with The Herd and delivered more of his signature catalystic verse tonite. Urthboy’s mission seems to be to educate his audience through themes of politics: his eloquent attacks on the status quo touched on many burning issues of Australian society today. His audience lapped it up, nodding in agreement: there could be no doubt that these kids are the well informed minority of hip-hop culture in this country – I bet every one of them voiced their vote on Election Day. This was a heartening sight, and gives me hope for our future. The set was intellectual and opinionated with plenty of food for thought, but lacked any real interesting musical elements. I wonder if the music had been as well thought through as the message then perhaps the important voice of Urthboy and his contemporaries would reach a wider audience.
Posted by walking rek on Sep 20, 2004 in
dancing rek,
my ears are expensive I jumped at the chance to cover this gig. My gut intuition was whispering sweet promises of a close encounter with some serious groove. My prior experiences at the Metro, albeit mostly in the main room, had forged strong impressions of events soaked in super sound and awesome vibe. Expectations riding aloft after a gruesome week, this Friday night I was gonna cut loose and get high.
One thing is for certain: some things change, and others remain as stoically unblemished by the winds of time as a good pair of flares. I tell you what, this freekin no-smoking policy at the Metro may have some mild mannered supporters but let me ask you this: who goes to gigs to stand around picking ones nose and deliberating on the texture and flavor? I can only speak for myself but I go to gigs to savour the rewarding fusion of music, liquid and smoke: this was the first time that the harsh sting of anti-smoking legislation had backed me into a corner and I decidedly did not like it.
The first band we caught was Panda. Cute name, cute sound. They had this rootsy funk thing happening with a gospel thread that was almost infecticious had there been the sweet smell of cheeba in the air. Which there wasn�t. There was a lot of people lying around on the scattered poufs looking like they had partaken their fair share before they arrived, a thought that struck me as perhaps a little pre-meditated. I wish I had been fore- warned. Panda boasted some throaty vocals and sumptuous saxophone accompanied by a sassy steel guitar and ripe old funky beats. I thought they had a lot to offer and wish that I could have enjoyed their set without thinking up elaborate ways to sneak a drag on my dhurri. The venue too had plenty to smirk about: with the clever stage, pre-loved couches and tables upstairs, this space combined boho cabaret with serious sound reinforcement. Too bad about the long walk downstairs to indulge in a little inhalation�(this unfortunate detour did, on the other hand, present us with happy hour at Bar Ace next door with $2.50 spirits from 5-11pm.)
All funked up, we venture back to catch the Modernists. Holy smoke, these cats were on FIRE before they even started. The band began their set with an illegally fat instrumental � then, enter stage left� their lead singer, we�ll call him Kamahl, made his grand entrance by executing the maddest strut ever down the tiered stage to take his position with the other magnificent seven. Introducing themselves as purveyors of Funk Disco Soul, the Modernists made my heart leap: they were the real deal, the funk fantastique. Jamiroquai � watch ya back, these kids are the freekin bomb. With a solid repertoire of super dope originals, the Modernists played for over an hour to a stunned audience: the extended instrumentals allowed the immense talent of the band to shine through whilst the genuine ladies man lyrics were delivered in deep honey tones. The Modernists offered a generous mix of faster funk along with seductive slow numbers, never losing momentum or the audience adoration. Their stage presence was flawless, their musical talent unquestionable. I can�t wait to see them again in a smoke friendly venue. The Modernists have a new CD out soon.
Posted by walking rek on Jul 31, 2004 in
dancing rek,
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Mad Racket is a consistent party provider. Still kickin well into its 6th year, this party collective has out lasted many of its contemporaries and maintains its underground ethic with emphasis on quality production and intelligent music. The result is a party that respects its punters offering a haven for self-expression, be that on the dance floor or in what you choose to wear (or not to wear) Mad Racket is a party for the open minded.
The venue still holds up as one of the best around: Marrickville Bowling Club can be found in the back streets of the inner west industrial zone. On a quiet night you can hear the bass from almost a kilometre away, but yet I have never known this party to get shut down due to noise complaints. The club maintains its charm as a recreational centre for the bowling set, but it comes alive as a party space with super sound reinforcement and cool visuals courtesy of the Mad Racket crew. The dance floor is legendary, plenty of souls have left their bodies temporarily out on those tiles, whilst the choice of couches beckons seductively to those who prefer to watch.
For the Locals party, there is a healthy turnout of punters despite the Splendour exodus and bitterly cold and damp conditions. The crowd is a well-seasoned lot who feel the urge to shake off their ugg boots and get down to some seriously tasty house music. Typically, there is not one glow stick in sight, but the groove is definitely hitting its mark and more people are on the move then not. This is deep and dirty low slung house music in its element: a musically sensitive crowd who know what they like and a venue with the right mix of space and creature comforts.
For some on the night, that level of comfort extended to wearing very little at all as they shook their bits to Jimmi James’ quality deep tech house. But, being a Mad Racket affair, no one really took much notice of anything other then the music. With the crowd suitably oiled up, Jimmi James slid off and Alpha Town Collective sidled up to soak us in yet more saucy sensations.
Alpha Town took us on a tour of their new live material during an extended and well-received set. These two guys dished out some highly infecticious grooves with deep bass lines that swung hips and heads alike, whilst the lengthy layers of housey goodness mutated delightfully. Their set was well structured and ended in slightly more up-tempo terrain that reflected the heightened vibe of the room.
Ken Cloud took proceedings to the next level with his chunky slabs of meaty beats. The crowd was sitting deep in their grooves, only taking five to partake of the very modestly priced drinks. I believe that this particular Mad Racket featured some of the most consistent and enjoyable music I’ve heard out on the tiles for a while. A party that reminded one of certain halcyon days of past. Long live House. As the Racketeers would say: Well Bowled, Well Rolled.
Posted by walking rek on Jul 25, 2004 in
dancing rek,
my ears are expensive I always thought that Electric Six were a band whose music would befit a retroactive nightclub in the middle of a circus ring with crazy cabaret artists dangling from the trapeze. Having never seen their video clips, I had this mental image of performers decked out in Parliament and Village People flavoured outfits, swinging microphones around and busting ballistic manoeuvres. Their music painted a vivid picture in my mind and I was looking forward to the Electric Six live experience, whatever that may be. Having heard on the grape vine that the gig was sold out, we were well prepared to get there early to secure a spot with a view. We were not expecting to find a long queue out front at 9pm: punters were obviously pretty keen to catch local supports SPOD and Peabody. There was excitement in air and the line moved quickly once doors opened. SPOD were warming up the room with their quirky mix of electro-clash, rocked out disco and tongue-in-cheek lyrics. SPOD are two guys, a guitar, a drum machine and an effects box. They dance around the stage hamming up the performance with lewd moves and plenty of crowd interaction. SPOD were an appropriate opener for the night, they set the vibe and got the punters moving and laughing. Up next was Peabody, a punchy three piece with pacey ditties about being drunk and disorderly. They held the crowd�s attention and impressed with their tight and zealous performance.
Peabody�s popular hit �Stupid Boy (Full of Alcohol)� was well received as the punters loosened up their vocal chords and jostled for room on the heaving dance floor.
Peabody was a smart choice as segway to the headlining act. And what an act! Electric Six were nothing like I expected them to be, not one pair of bell-bottoms to behold. These guys embody everything that was great from the Eighties From the haircuts, to the tight pants, to the mirror shades, these guys oozed sex appeal from every angle. Electric Six are drums, keys, bass, rhythm, lead and vocals and they are all outstanding performers. In particular, the guitarists hung off their instruments with the right blend of nonchalance and technical dexterity: little stabs of legs, leaning out into the crowd, grand arcs of flamboyant persona endeared me immediately. The drummer was super tight too, whilst the keyboardist was pure magic. The vocalist has one hell of a voice: very Tom Jones in his manner, he belts out lyrics with the power of a gospel singer complete with hand moves and dinky dancing. I was dazzled by the thick, polished rock-funk sound that permeated the room � their recordings simply do not do justice to their live performance. There were blistering guitar solos, dynamic rhythms and grinding grooves. I was expecting something perhaps a little camp, but their very masculine show had an raucous effect on the audience: one guy got launched onto the stage much to his surprise, someone�s g-string found its home on the neck of a guitar and people were going crazy. They played all their familiar hits �Danger! High Voltage�, �Gay Bar� and �Dance Commander� but I also found their other material highly danceable. I enjoyed the gig so much so that I simply had to buy the t-shirt. I hope that Electric Six tour here again very soon, and would recommend catching them live. They are playing at the
Annandale next Tuesday 27th July. Get in early to avoid disappointment � Electric six is one act not to be missed.