Globe To Globe Festival,
Namatjira Park, January 28 and 29, 2012

Although not a significant date on the summer festival calendar, the Globe To Globe world music festival has for over ten years provided an enjoyable afternoon and evening of entertainment.  Whilst one can enjoy the Big Day Out only with musically like-minded friends, Globe To Globe has always been the prime example of a festival that can be visited in groups with friends and family alike.  Unlike other suburban festivals, it doesn’t skew itself too far in either the family-friendly or artsy stakes or put any particular group off.  In the past, I have visited the festival with friends, my parents, and even my grand parents.

So I was looking forward to this year’s outing, especially because the first evening boasted Beth George and later the Ska Vendors, and it was perfect weather for enjoying some bluesy tunes in the shade of the World Music Stage, and later to attempt some dance moves as the sun went down.  Furthermore, it would be the first time I would be attending with a dog, after a two year hiatus since my dog – a big fan of the festival – passed away.  I was disappointed, upon our eager arrival, to be turned away on the grounds that the festival is now a ‘No Dogs Allowed’ zone.

Even more disappointing than being turned away from an event at which I am a regular visitor, with dog, is the fact that the festival overtook the grounds of Namatjira Park, usually a dog-friendly reserve, leaving the grounds off-limits for canine visitors and their owners for the duration of the weekend-long festival.  Luckily there was another park nearby to enjoy a walk, albeit without a stage providing musical accompaniment.

Daniel Gardner

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Closure in Moscow were somewhat of an odd choice as a local support for My Chemical Romance. These guys are like the ficticious band Stillwater from the movie Almost Famous reborn. Maybe a prog rock Wolfmother? They’re extremely 70s anyway. It didn’t matter in the end, as they rocked the capacity Festival Hall crowd. Maybe a little surprisingly, the gothy emo crowd seemed to lap it up. About two thirds of the way into their set, their songs became a little samey, but they put on an excellent, flamboyant, retro inspired rock show nonetheless.

I know I have used the term ‘emo’ previsously in this review, and that is indeed what most of the crowd consisted of. Morose looking, mostly dark haired kids with too much eyeliner, who looked like they had just surfaced as daylight was dying, for fear of bursting into flames if exposed to sunlight (or maybe just turning all sparkly like the whimpy modern vampire apparently does?). But to me, this is where the ‘emo’ motif begins and ends, as far as MCR are concerned.. Their fans are emos, but as a band they ain’t.

As vocalist Gerard Way has strongly alluded to in interviews, the emo tag sits extremely uncomfortably on their shoulders. And this is reinforced even more in a live setting. To these ears, MCR just sound like dramatic, energetic, slightly punky sounding modern/alternative rock. And live, it all fell into place.

Opening proceedings in a blaze of glory with the opening track of their latest album Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, Na Na Na,MCR had the massive crowd going absolutely off their nuts from the get go. Sitting in the baconly directly behind the floor, it was a real sight to behold to see 3000 people heaving, bouncing and fisting the air as one.

And, often when you watch a live band that plays for two hours or more, there is a lull period maybe half to two thirds of the way through the set. That was not the case here, the energy levels of band and crowd were maintained absolutely from go to woah, and it was truly infectious. Their set was wall to wall, fist pumping alternative rock anthems, and the crowd left the building utterly satisfied with the experience. It was as much a celebration as a rock show.

Emo my arse, My Chemical Romance rocked this night. That is all.

Rod Whitfield

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It’s an incredibly gutsy move to start up a brand new, music related magazine in print, in the current musical and print media related climate. But that’s exactly what these guys are doing. And if the launch of their magazine is anything to go by, they’re off to an excellent start.

Decimatus assaulted the senses with their primal but high octane thrash and groove metal. Tight as a fist, and with excellent stage presence, these guys delivered telling blow after telling blow to an audience hungry for more. A powerhouse performance from a very promising unit.

Dead City Ruins provided a nice contrast to the all out thrash assault of Decimatus. They belted out their glammy cock rock with real balls, plenty of attitude and a strong sense of ‘boogie’ as well. Their sound owes almost as much to Status Quo and ZZ Top as it does to the usual suspects of AC/DC and Guns N Roses, and they put on a typically over the top extrovert show.

Back to the main stage, and American basketball singlets were the order of the day as Bronson took the stage. These guys inject a little more groove and some nu-metal stylings into their sound, and their highly energetic set got fists a-pumpin’ and feet a-stompin’.

Highlight of the evenings proceedings for this reviewer was the mighty Circles. These guys have it all: ridiculously high level musicianship, incredible sound, big stage presence and a close to ideal balance of heaviness and accessibility. Their music alternatively soars and roars with equal aplomb. Here’s a big call: Circles are the ‘band most likely’ in the current crop of Aussie heavy music acts. Watch this space.

Rounding out the evening was 6 Ft Hick from Queensland. Their style is thrashy, garagey rock n roll, the point of difference coming from the fact they have two singers belting it out and going ape-shit up front. Not really my bag, but they certainly kept the stalwarts who stuck around well entertained.

Congratulations must be given to the people behind the mag and this show. It was a very well organised evening’s entertainment, and the variety inherent in the lineup was a joy to behold. It would have been very easy to simply put on a whole bunch of brutal metal acts to keep the narrow minded headbangers happy, but thankfully they chose not to take this route. Consequently the crowd was exceptionally strong, and people got to see some styles they wouldn’t normally check out.

To mobilize the sluggish Melbourne metal community like this for purely local acts is a credit to the organizers. And make sure you check out the new ‘Heavy’ mag, on sale at newsagents everywhere now.

Rod Whitfield

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In December, during a discussion of music, a colleague lowered his voice, leaned in close to me conspiratorialy and confessed that he would be going to see the Vengaboys at their upcoming tour.

‘But my wife is making me take her!’ he added quickly.

I replied proudly that I needed no excuse, and updated him with the latest rumour that I had heard from reputable sources: that the Vengabus, quite literally, would be coming, stopping at each of the destinations of the tour along with the band. I professed that I would be disappointed if I did not get to go inside – or at least see and be photographed standing by – the Vengabus during the Vengaboys’ Australian tour.

Vengaboys,
Corner Hotel, January 12, 2012

When I arrived at the Corner, I met some people who had purchased ‘VIP’ tickets, apparently from some kind of agency, which included a ticket to the venue from the CBD in the ‘Vengabus’ which apparently allowed them to BYO alcohol before meeting the driver at Young and Jackson’s, and I realised that everyone had been duped.  Vengabus, indeed.  It sounded like little more than some party bus operator making a quick buck.  So I wasn’t disappointed that I didn’t get to see this ‘Vengabus.’

My colleague had given me a piece of gossip of his own.  He’d told me that the support band would be a local group called ‘The Herbs,’ a Spice Girls tribute show.  It was disappointing for me to hear that because I’m not such a Spice Girls fan, and I could think of plenty of local original supports who would have fit perfectly.  Never the less, I was pleasantly surprised to see that The Herbs, complete with sequinned outfits, brought their own style to the songs.  Their covers sounded a bit like how members of the Strokes, Killers and Mars Volta might if they decided to meet in a garage to jam over Spiceworld on mute.  Unfortunately the group’s set was first delayed, and ultimately cut short by what they described as technical difficulties.  Personally, I thought they could have continued without the defective bass drum, but it seemed like the majority of the audience would much have preferred the piped Hits Of The ’90s compilations being played over the PA.

After a little pushing and shoving from people in sailor hats telling me adamently that they actually are a Vengaboy, the rarely-closed Corner curtain opened and the real Vengaboys appeared on stage in trademark costume.  Real, that is, insomuch as this is what we know the Vengaboys to be today – apparently the lead singer is the only remaining member, certainly the boys have been replaced, and was that a replacement backup girl singer too?

As the group broke immediately into song and barely choreographed dance, I wondered suspisciously whether they were lipsynching.  Certainly, they were doing little more than singing along to album versions of their songs.  But as the applause from the first song died down, and Kim stode to the front of the stage to greet the audience - ‘Hello, party people!’ – and leaned forward to reveal dangerous amounts of cleavage, before announcing ‘This is Captain Kim speaking.  Welcome aboard Venga Airways…’ I either convinced myself that they were really singing, or that it didn’t matter if they were only lipsynching.  Everyone was here to dance to the hits.  And they tore through them, barely a word spoken between songs, just how I like it.  If not for the groping on stage, it might have looked like a show for children, with dance-along chants of Up And Down.

It was a fun show, but it left me feeling a little disappointed.  One disappointment was caused by myself.  For some reason, I felt compelled to jump up on stage – something which I have never done.  I was quickly dragged away by security staff, but it nevertheless left me feeling like I’d ruined part of the night for everyone.  Secondly, the merchandise seemed to only come in large sizes.  And finally, my main concern was that the band played for such a short time.  It had been little more than half and hour when they marched off stage, though they immediately returned for a bizare encore, playing Shalala Lala and Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom!, which they had already played during the main set.  Whilst I can admit that this was better than playing an overlong set, there were still a few singles that were missed.  Cheeka Bow Bow could have, if nothing else, been used as a reintroduction before the encore, and Forever As One would have broken the dance set up nicely.

That said, these were minor concerns, and I left feeling satisfied that I’d been given what I paid for.  Dancing like an ugly drunk punk to We Like To Party is as fun now as it was in high school.

Daniel Gardner

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Considering the proliferation of Misfits t-shirts that exist in outfits no matter where one is, it was a surprise to find tickets still available for sale at the door of the HiFi Bar only hours before the band were due on stage.

Misfits,
The HiFi Bar, Melbourne, December 3, 2011

Apparently the night’s support bands had been chosen via an online poll, and set times listed Bellusira, Hatchet Dawn and a group called Electrik Dynamite, playing in that order.  I hadn’t heard of Electrik Dynamite, but the set times seemed a little confused, given the strong following Hatchet Dawn have in Melbourne, and that they seem a perfect match for the headliner.  That said, Electrik Dynamite quickly won my affection immediately by unashamedly wearing their own merchandise and by having a dedicated keyboard axe player.  They played a catchy 80s-style hard rock that would fit perfectly on the soundtrack to a horror movie house party, and jumped around the stage with an enviable energy.

Electrik Dynamite’s set seemed like it was over before it had really had a chance to get started, and as soon as they left the stage the dance floor started filling with a varied crowd vying for prime viewing position.  It was a longer than usual stretch waiting for the stage to be set for the Misfits, with much talk of the double-bass drum set up.  It was the first time I have been in an audience who have felt compelled to cheer for a roadie simply because he picked up an instrument.  It was not undeserved, though, with the roadie playing a few chords on Jerry Only’s customised bass guitar, complete with a cyclops skull on the headstock, and he received another round of applause as he finished the test and lowered the guitar respectfully to its podium.

The audience reaction wasn’t matched until the Misfits themselves emerged on stage, coated in their trademark make-up, Jerry clad in a spiked vest, Dez Cadena wearing a full length leather jacket that I decided I wanted when I saw the skeleton motif printed on the back.  They launched into a string of unfamiliar songs from their current album, which sounded great – and allayed the fear I always have seeing old bands that they might suck – but it wasn’t until they dove into classics like Bullet and Static Age that the audience really went wild.

And it really was the dream crowd.  A sad truth is that an audience can make or break an otherwise admirable live show.  It only takes a little bit of consistent shoving or macho posturing to cast a shadow over a perfect performance.  Luckily, everyone had come out on this night to show the performance the respect it deserved, and ensured everyone felt truly a part of the experience.  The crowd surged and pulsed at just the right moments, never more evident than when Jerry teased into the microphone ‘I want your skulls…,’ to be answered in unison:  ‘I need your skulls!’

Other highlights included American Psycho and more crowd participation with Dig Up Her Bones, and after a brief break, the band returned to the stage for an encore that slowed down only enough to slide in a delicious rendition of Saturday Night.  It was a set and an encore sadly devoid of any of the covers from the Project 1950 album, but for a band with over thirty years of history, it was a good selection of songs (although I doubt anyone would have complained if I Turned Into A Martian had been slipped in somewhere.)

If anyone was waiting for a second encore, Jerry Only made clear that it was not forthcoming in the most exciting way short of smashing his guitar into pieces against the stage.  In a single, dynamic gesture, he ripped the strings from his guitar as the other members of the band tossed drum sticks and guitar picks into the audience on their way backstage.  As the ominous strains of horror music soundtracks rose over the PA, Jerry jumped off the stage, bypassing the screaming young vixens spilling tattooed cleavage over the barrier in front of the stage and stalked directly to the woman standing in front of me.

An older woman, perhaps in her mid-fifties, she had seemed a little out of place throughout the show – not due to her age, because she was far from alone in that bracket – but because she was wearing a sensible red blouse and conservative slacks, a plain handbag draped over one shoulder that was sure to contain anything she might need for an emergency.  Nowhere to be found were the extremes of make-up, spiked hair, and costumes that were de rigueur that evening.  Nevertheless, she’d been jumping and pounding her fists in the air throughout the night.  Jerry stopped in front of her, and flashed a rare smile, then gave the woman a hug and a kiss, to much deserved applause from even the girls who had been begging for cleavage signatures.

As the scary music continued, so did Jerry, prowling around the whole venue, posing for photos and shaking hands for as long as it took.  Meanwhile, his antics encouraged members of other bands to do the same, and, as I browsed the merchandise stand – surprisingly devoid of the iconic skull-motif t-shirts – an elaborate member of Hatchet Dawn handed me an autographed poster.  I was still reeling from an unexpectedly passionate kiss from Jerry Only and the gig itself, so may have thanked him more ferociously than was called for.

Daniel Gardner

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Whilst I could barely contain my excitement upon returning from the ticket booth, everyone I boasted to about the latest tickets to be added to the line-up adorning my fridge door refused to believe that the tickets were legitimate.  My boss, in particular, mentioned numerous times how absurd he thought it that Good Charlotte were to be performing a Weezer tribute show.  Amongst his list of concerns was his belief – which I did not disagree with – that there are likely to be very few Weezer fans who are also Good Charlotte fans.  But, I countered, as a fan of both, this was one of those rare dreamGigs.

Good Charlotte play Weezer’s ‘Blue Album,’
The JD Set at The Forum, Melbourne, November 10, 2011

Amy Meredith opened the evening, and although I didn’t see a lot of their set due to the unforgivably long queues for entrance, what I did get to hear sounded good.  The band seem to have come a long way since their self-titled EP (better known as the Dingley Rock City CD) and have found a more consistent sound.  They’ve gained a British indie-rock vibe at some point during their journey, and stylish new hair for Christian, but none of that is any cause for complaint.

In between bands, a DJ played a set that featured every song I always wished I could hear in a night club but never did, including songs by Fountains Of Wayne, Avril, and Rancid.  Meanwhile, a girl wearing spoons as jewellery confessed to me that she was looking forward to hearing Only In Dreams while an older woman who I had asked to hold my drink professed her love for me, Amy Meredith, Good Charlotte, whoever Weezer are, and AC/DC.  Needless to say, the corporate sponsorship meant that Jack Daniels cocktails were reasonably priced.

When Good Charlotte emerged on stage it was without fanfare, and the uproarious applause died down quickly as they broke immediately into My Name Is Jonas.  It was immediately apparent that it was quite a flat rendition, and highlighted the fact that many of the audience didn’t realise that this would be a tribute show and were unfamiliar with the material.  Indeed, Joel Madden himself would later observe that ‘There are… what?  Five people here who know The Blue Album?’  I joined that particular subset of five at the front and centre of the stage, where other audience members expressed their dissatisfaction at the fact that anyone should be singing or dancing.  A girl with whom my body had come into contact called me a jerk, and I asked if she knew how to do a concert.  Perhaps not the most articulate response, but I was satisfied when she stomped her foot on the floor and shrieked ‘What does that even mean!?’

Luckily the band seemed to get more into spirit of the event by the end of the song, and by the slow-build that is The World Has Turned, they were sounding pretty good and I – along with the few other Weezer fans in the room – were enjoying ourselves.  Most of the songs didn’t deviate too far from their source material, but Benji and Joel did do some interesting adlibs over the conversations of Undone… which the bulk of the audience seemed to enjoy.  It kind of highlighted how an album tribute gig like this can be problematic.  Weezer’s debut is without a doubt a fantastic album, but, like any album, it has its own lulls and peaks.  It was great to hear the songs, but the ‘tribute’ portion of the night might have been better received had it been presented as ‘Good Charlotte playing the hits of Weezer.’  Because the audience was so quiet during the Weezer component of the night, Joel was able to respond to my admittedly ludicrous requests for songs from other Weezer albums, like I Want You To and Island In The Sun, before silencing me with a fantastic rendition of Say It Ain’t So.

And with the closing of the Weezer tribute, Good Charlotte took a brief break and returned for what the majority of the crowd really wanted – a solid set of the band’s own singles.  Opening strongly with The Anthem, I was surprised to hear so many of the recent poppier songs from Cardiology included on a night like this.  Nevertheless, it was a varied set that seemed to please, and – whilst there were favourite singles omitted – crowd favourites like Riot Girl and Motivation Proclamation were played to perfection amongst the radio hits.

Good Charlotte playing Weezer was an interesting experiment, but it looks like my boss was right.  Judging by the packed theatre’s silence during Weezer, it didn’t exactly pay off.  But the full Good Charlotte set seemed to please everyone, whether they’d been bopping at the front to the Weezer covers or not, and it was a rare treat to see a band who frequent stadiums playing in one of Melbourne’s finest music venues.

Daniel Gardner

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