The buzz machine is a dangerous beast. It is far more dangerous than your common washing machine for example. It was certainly the reason I was lured to the Corner last night to see ol mate Gaz.
You’ve no doubt seen the posters, ‘The next Hendrix’, hell, it’s probably the reason you’re reading this review right now. The man is creating a stir at the moment, playing a string of sold-out shows to coincide with his spot on the Big Day Out lineup. There is no doubting the mans ability to wield an axe, and his ‘fuck face’ (as pointed out to me by 40-year-old self-proclaimed cougar) is second to none. This said, I did find myself doing that bored sort of scan half way through the show… you know the one, from band member to band member, to punters doing funny shit (kissing a bouncer on the head and rubbing his belly) and finally, just the posters on the wall for upcoming shows (Divine Fits will be great!). It felt like he got to a level in the first track and didn’t stray too far from that level. Starting the show with a slow-burning riff that grew and grew with some pounding, jungle drums set a blue-print for the show. It wasn’t until a filthy Drop-D banger that I was removed from my blues-induced coma and things got interesting again. Also, I don’t think calling him ‘The next Hendrix’ is entirely fair on the other guitarist whose shredder was on par if not surpassing the man under the spotlight. Hendrix or not, the boy can sing. He has the perfect delivery; oozing swag by the pus-load and every now and then launching into a damn sexy Frank Ocean staggered falsetto. Gary was great, but being fed a diet of The Fumes, The Vasco Era and The Mess Hall has meant I like my blues a certain way, and Gary didn’t quite get me there.
BY JACK PARSONS
LOVED: Fraser A. Gorman and The Murlocs giving the lineup an incredible consistency of shit-hot.
HATED: Gary Clarke Jr’s beanie. Get your hand off it, mate.
DRANK: Phillip Seymour Froffmans.
