For the hometown launch of their debut album, Money For Rope brought a titanic lineup to the swanked up Ding Dong lounge and took everyone on a transgressive ride.
Mother & Son are from the coastal NSW city of Wollongong and the outer city origins give the band an individuality mightn’t flourish. amidst the homogenizing of a big city. The two-piece are a wild circus side-show. Frontman Bodie is one of the most abrasively dazzling guitarists in the country. His tremolo-heavy playing sounds scrappy but it includes much deceptive melody, proving his chops surpass mere chance. It’s as if the only way to abate inner demonic urges is to pillage the realms of 12-bar surfer twang and consequently debauch the ears of all who bear witness. His voice is a croaking rusted gate and his yelping of “I was born in a mental asylum” (complemented by the drummers simultaneous gawking enthusiasm) revealed that madness allows for uninhibited fun.
The last time I saw Fraser A. Gorman and Big Harvest Gorman it was a headline show and the expectation for something large, befitting headline status, wasn’t quite met. But tonight, in a support slot, their place on stage was more than vindicated. They’re a roots country/western outfit with a really nice Nashville sound. It’s the Nashville of dapper marginal characters, people with an amount of charisma that could lead them left of the lord, into social disturbance and ultimately to the bottle. The well-dressed yet slightly unkempt quintet played a set of considered rustic Americana with a few departures into doo-wop. Their oeuvre flowed between fragile slow burning laments to flirtatious barn dances. A cover of Elvis Presley’s Burning Love provided one of many fine demonstrations of Gorman’s adept croon.
The last time I saw Money For Rope the highs of their show totally destroyed any chance of that night’s headliners making a strong impression. When they took the stage tonight the room was full and filthy, just as destiny designed. The influx of bodies shortly before Money For Rope took the stage indicated the strong local buzz for the six-piece gargantuan force.
Tonight, each member was giving everything they have and every movement was an expression of gut-felt commitment. The two drummers were a pair of bashing atoms that fused to remove any fragile irregularities. The guitarist and bass player moved like deviant worker bees with huge amounts of stolen honey running through their veins. The keys player was dripping wet and possessed. Singer Jules Mackenzie’s voice was assertively announced through the Ding Dong PA. He screamed, chanted, sloganeered, grumbled and melodiously enforced everything he did. There’s an anger evoked by his vocals but it’s not encroaching, nor is he bemoaning. He knows something is amiss and the plastic expectations can no longer be obliged.
The default term ‘tight’ does not appropriately describe their playing. Tight connotes strict regimen, but Money For Rope’s six way synchronisation doesn’t reduce the personality of each player. It’s not ‘hard’ work, it’s essential activity. They believe in what they’re doing and tonight the impact was menacingly striking.
BY AUGUSTUS WELBY
LOVED: Fraser A. Gorman’s harmonica and vocal work on You’ll Be Gone.
HATED: What, no encore?
DRANK: Money For Rum (Sailor Jerry and Ginger Ale).
