The mighty Murlocs took the stage prior to garage-surfers Bonniwells, and they were the perfect support: hard, heavy rock. The singer was an emaciated Jeff Buckley: excellent voice and legs like toothpicks. He was very charismatic for a man so mild in individual characteristics, but Gestalt reigns supreme with these sorts of guys.
Bonniwells bowled out and from the first song had me dancing like a tripped out Bettie Page. Their surf rock with galloping, smashy drums didn’t let up at all and when I managed to stop for a breather, I could see the room was full of wild-eyed fans. Vocalist Marck Dean was stupidly pitchy but truly, who gives a damn? He is also a member of the pencil-legged tribe. Considering the height of the Tote stage and your angle of vision when you are up close to it, pencil legs were mostly all you could see up there for the duration of the set, like a pine forest during an earthquake. Things fell into the vibe of excellently written surf music from an Australian ‘80s movie as drummer Zac Olsen contributed great, sloppy vocals. He’s hyper-adolescent but still commanding, despite the Eraserhead hairdo.
Bassist John Waddell has some kind of tattoo on his bicep which made him look like Iron Man, and which I think gave him special strength while he pounded out thick, quick tonic notes to Dean’s huge chords. Things were kind of unclear; I had scant idea which songs they were playing but I assume they were all from their new album Sneeze Weed. I wish I could be more specific but when I shouted, “What song was that?” Dean shrieked to fuck off and then they all sicced out another one. I’d have been annoyed except that the whole thing was a big fat pizza of fun.
BY ZOË RADAS
LOVED: Crazy tantrum vibe.
HATED: Taryn didn’t come.
DRANK: Big ciders.
