My hairdresser likes to get on the chat. Usually she’s provocative without being confrontational. However, on Friday afternoon, she was somewhere between cantankerous and deliberately antagonist. Amongst her many diatribes was the dubiously formed proposition that any musician unable to establish a commercially viable career only had themself to blame, or something like that. The fact that she’d spent her youth mixing with musicians whose raw talent far outweighed their financial reward added further confusion; the likelihood she’d consumed a few G&Ts before I’d arrived was probably the only the reasonable explanation for the ill-considered theory.
Van Walker isn’t commercially successful, and probably won’t be for a while yet. If Van was Canadian he might be heralded as a successor to Neil Young, but because he’s local (albeit via Tasmania), he has to put in the hard yards to keep his head above water. Van’s latest musical exploit is Goatpiss Gasolene, a Delta blues-via North Fitzroy outfit. Van’s fellow guitarist’s plays the blues with the dexterity and empathy of a crust veteran 50 years his senior; the drummer’s Sabbath is apparent if you’re prepared to look close enough. There’s some Screaming Jay Hawkins and Elmore James (or was it Willie Dixon), some inebriated dancing and a whole lot of fun.
From there we head to the city, and into Shebeen Bar in Manchester Lane. A few years ago our corporate Christmas party was held there; according to office rumour, on of the attendees dispatched an obnoxious colleague across the room in a fit of justified pique. It’s hard to reconcile tonight’s hipster-ish crowd with the decidedly un-hipster demographic profile of that fateful Christmas party, which is probably a good thing.
We a couple of songs late in the Baptism of Uzi set, enough to confirm that it’s still good to be alive in a Buzi world. Flyying Colours are launching their new single tonight, and the crowd is heavy with interest. A friend describes the band as “young and cute”; maybe that’s verging on patronising, but it’s hardly offensive. The air is quickly drenched with thick, reverb-laden psychedelic sound, and when the band locks into a solid groove, it’s very, very good. You can discern nods to Jesus and Mary Chain, My Bloody Valentine, War on Drugs, Spiritualized and a slew of lesser-known contemporaries. It’s the requisite blend of free-form exploration and subliminal blues-rock structure that lies at the heart of psychedelia.
The set ends with some psychedelic histrionics: it’s been done before, and you’ll hear it again, but not always as good as tonight. Flyying Colours probably won’t appear in a television commercial, or a primetime talent show, but is that really an appropriate measure of success?
From there it’s a short sojourn to The Old Bar to see River of Snakes. We arrive a couple of songs into the set, and River of Snakes is already knee-deep in psychedelic dirge. Raul Sanchez has had his moment in the sun with Magic Dirt; these days he splits his time between River of Snakes, Midnight Woolf and Tex Perkins’ latest rock foray, The Ape. Sanchez sweats rock’n’roll passion; there’s ne’er a skerrick of pretence to be seen nor heard. Elissa Rose is a graduate of Collingwood’s rock’n’roll high school, an education institution that will necessarily be ignored in the forthcoming review of the national school curriculum.
There’s a run through of River of Snakes’ latest record, Black Noise, and a cover of The Heartbreakers’ via Ramones’ Chinese Rocks, and there is much nocturnal rejoicing; that such cult attention is unlikely to transpose into lavish financial reward is surely a reflection on insipid popular tastes, and not the quality of the music on offer.
The evening’s eclectic sonic pleasures draw to a conclusion, and we undertake the requisite post-mortem of events. There’s been something for just about anyone who cares, and everyone’s content. On any given night, you can’t beat Melbourne for rock’n’roll.
BY PATRICK EMERY
Loved: The compare and contrast of the evening’s musical offerings.
Hated: Friday night traffic.
Drank: A mixture of Mountain Goat and Cooper’s Pale Ale.