I was never allowed to listen to Hanson or the Spice Girls as a child. Instead, I was brought up on Bodyjar. It wasn’t always easy. I could never properly appreciate Video Hits on a Sunday morning once Rage had ended and as a young adult out at a ‘90s night, no one ever believed I didn’t know the choreography to Stop by the Spice Girls. Looking around the Corner Hotel, I realise I’m not alone. Everyone here is in nostalgic mode, reminiscing about listening to Bodyjar at Eltham Fruitbowl or while skating Prahran or stoned on really cheap weed in their garage. Whatever your circumstance, there’s a feeling of comradery in the room. We’re the fans that have been here for 20 years.
First up is a band with a name that simultaneously conjures fear and joy – Clowns. It’s a fitting name considering their live performance has the same effect. One minute their singer, Stevie, is screaming, “motherfucker”, in your face and the next minute he’s climbing onto the ceiling hanging from the rafters causing the crowd to wonder if he’ll fall and hurt himself or fall and hurt someone else, and whether or not they’ll enjoy seeing that.
Blueline Medic followed. The sold out room was filling quickly to see a band they haven’t seen play in years. It was a short set due to Donnie’s voice being a little worse for wear. But the crowd got exactly what they’d been waiting for the last five years, Making the Nouveau Riche. Happy punks.
Samian kept the crowd nicely lubricated until Bodyjar stepped up to the stage. “We’re going to play all of Rimshot, and then whatever you guys want,” announced Cam, and they launched into their 1996 LP with Windsok. The audience remained fairly calm throughout the entire of Rimshot. I saw two crowdsurfers but upon closer inspection realised it was the same guy running loops of the audience. I wonder what would happen if they chose to play How It Works from start to finish.
After half an hour things became a looser, they played older singles like Do Not Do and all those well-known tracks you could see the crowd itching for. The pit became more active, more bodies were tossed over the barrier and the band began recognising familiar faces that have been causing havoc for the past 20 years. The bouncers didn’t seem to appreciate it quite as much. They were not into crowdsurfing 30-year-olds, except for that one woman that did so in heels and a dress. Brave.
There was no encore; there was no need. There were no pretences at this gig. It’s been 20 years and by now we know what it’s all about. I like you. You like me. Let’s play, dance and have fun. Just cross your fingers and hope that in five years we get to do it all again.
BY EMMA GHAD
Photo by Ian Laidlaw
Loved: The calm demeanour of the girl in the bathrooms that had someone else’s vomit all over her shoes.
Hated: That the dude that raided the stage was ejected – it’s un-Australian.
Drank: For most of the day and night.
