Have you ever spent an extended period of time in LA? Say what you will about the culture, but weather-wise the place is beautiful. Day in, day out, the sun shines through a clear blue sky, seemingly without fail. Sounds like paradise, eh? The thing is though, after living with consistently agreeable weather for a while, you cease to appreciate it. Once you’ve accepted that’s the wayit is, it becomes hard to notice.
The Melbourne band scene engenders a similar phenomenon. There’re a lot of bands here, and a lot of them are pretty dang good. This should be cause for unending anarchic celebration, but the extent of decent local music can disguise the strength of the individual bands. It becomes hard to notice.
At a glance, Mesa Cosa might appear to be just another pleasant day. In this case, that means a logjam of dudes, who probably haven’t showered in weeks, smashing out punk-y tunes with a ‘who gives a fuck, let’s party’ attitude. The chord progressions aren’t exactly novel; it’s sturdy rock’n’roll shit, sent forward from the Stones to The Stooges, The Replacements to The Bronx (which certainly isn’t a complaint).
What set this gig apart is, rather than being another in a ceaseless stream, you could taste Mesa Cosa’s singularity. In no sense did the band appear to be grabbing onto the zeitgeist. In fact, they seemed defiantly unaware what they’re doing perpetuates a prevalent form of rock music.
The five-piece (which at times expanded to roughly eight or nine) handled their gear as if it was deserving of retributive punishment. Hell, they handled their songs in this manner too. They didn’t just play them – they beat them out with almost suicidal energy. It was akin to partaking in an extreme sport. “Who cares about the risk of plunging 100 feet to total destruction?” said the band. “There’s no point holding back.” Thankfully, such an obliterating blow never came. But before long, everyone in the room was subsumed under Mesa Cosa’s frenzied life force. There was simply no choice; by the time you left, your neck was bent out of shape.
Much like beautiful weather, a strong local music scene is no less than ideal, even if it’s the established norm. By providing a properly dangerous thrill, tonight Mesa Cosa showed us just how good this rock music stuff can be. This acted as a reminder, given the option, you’d request for this scenario to be repeated, ad infinitum.
BY AUGUSTUS WELBY
Loved: Scotdrakula, The Mighty Boys.
Hated: Waking up to discover many injuries.
Drank: From aluminum cans.
