Photos Matt Allan Photos.
Words El Jefe.
So when Eddie and Ruben split from Fu, and subsequently hooked up with former Fu bassist, Mark Abshire, to form Nebula, you could assume they would be strutting a similar path to Fu Manchu, albeit with a different songwriting stance, you know, due to being different songwriters etc. And there ARE similarities, but that’s not to say Nebula aren’t / weren’t their own unique entity. Leaning more to the psych-rock side of the spectrum, and capped of with Romano’s heavily Bonham-esque drumming, they released a slew of awesome EP’s and albums. And because we’re a deserving bunch of motherfuckers, Heavy Psych Sounds have very kindly reissued a whole bunch of Nebula records. Good news for fans old and new. I myself have finally (or will have once the order arrives!) landed the Nebula classic To The Center on good ol’ fashioned vinyl. My CD version has been played too many times to count and remains a firm contender for the El Jefe Ultimate Top 25. So now, eighteen years or so after I first bought it, I get a shot at reviewing it. And it’s Saturday! Continue reading
Words Carys Hurcom.
Photos Kim Anderson – Shoot The Wicked Witch.
I owe a lot to Unwritten Law. Unwritten Law (and The Vandals) inclusion on the ‘Idle Hands’ soundtrack (anyone remember that film?) are the reason I fell madly in love with punk music. However, over the years, my enthusiasm for Unwritten Law has waned; maybe it has been the previous five or so years of average performances by the band, or the stories of their off stage antics, or my chance meeting with the band in 2015, but whatever it is, I was oscillating between excited and apprehensive about tonight’s gig. Continue reading
Words El Jefe.
Photo John Gilhooley.
Fu Manchu. A band who, along with the likes of Nebula, Monster Magnet and Kyuss set the scene for the scores of stoner bands who followed in their wake, and have never themselves dropped a beat with their own output. And with barely a lineup change this millennium, they sound as solid as fuck, too.
With this latest blast of sonic mayhem, Clone Of The Universe, we see Fu Manchu crack open the Holy Riff Bible and write a new chapter. No mean feat for a band who have been cranking out behemoth riffs for over thirty fucking years. Clone is their twelfth album, and is right up there with the classic Fu records like Eatin’ Dust and California Crossing. Continue reading
The opening of doors into The Croxton’s band room is a little bit later than anticipated (probably due to VIP’s meeting with the headliners taking double time for selfies) but we fill it at a steady pace. The thirstier punters begin the soon-to-be never-ending queue for grog in an excited frenzy, others choose their spot within the room.
Our first act of the evening are Melbourne’s four-piece band, Bukowski. Their choice of name doesn’t necessarily suit their style of music – presumably an ode to Charles, wasn’t Bukowski more of a classical man?– but it seems to be irrelevant as we applaud their set, indulging in the local talent. These guys are one of the upcoming acts that we should watch, so it was a shame their set had to be shortened due to the late starting time. They leave us in a state of awe and appreciation for being there, and we progress into patiently waiting for what’s to come. Continue reading
Words Mark Ireland.
Before Shame even landed in Australia, they had a hell of a reputation but with enough secrecy to still have some surprises up their sleeves. They have been heavily lauded in the British and American music press, they tore Glastonbury apart last year and punched Laneway Festival so hard it was coughing up blood, so when they landed at The Tote the energy of the band and the crowd was salacious, you could feel the condensation just dripping from the ceiling.
Lead singer Charlie Steen hulked about the stage staring down the crowd, you felt like he was going to attack at any point, but this is all stage persona.
When they burst into the single ‘The Lick’ and the opening lyric is “So in the past week I’ve made several trips to the gynaecologists”, you know the boys tongues are firmly planted in their cheek, they wear their influences heavily on their sleeves, The Fall, Eddy Current. Steen has the Mark E Smith’s venomous lyric spit combined with Brenden Huntley’s manic dance moves. The song ‘Friction’ with it’s heavy chiming guitars flogs the crowd around the head and induces aural comas. The entire pub is transfixed, a bomb could have gone off and the crowd wouldn’t have noticed in the slightest, that’s how enigmatic they were. Continue reading
Words Will Oakeshott.
There is a quote by the infamous and supposed anonymous UK-based graffiti artist Banksy that states: “Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable” – this in retrospect, operates as a very suiting theme for what transpired at this event. The South Australian summer had certainly exposed its true colours providing sauna-like conditions, which was quite the opposite from both touring bands’ current home weather statuses (UK and Canada respectively). Landing on a Tuesday evening was also more of a predicament in terms of attendance, with spectator numbers being best described as dozens initially. However, art, more specifically punk music was never about “comfort”; truthfully it is more likened to rebellion, the underground and discomposure. So essentially these “conditions” as it were, surmised to an accommodating scenario. Continue reading