My Friend The Chocolate Cake, the tertiary graduates rebel rockers, strode the stage in their finest garb, befitting such an august venue. It is not often that you can say that you played exactly the same venue in five different nations but that is exactly what The Chocolate Cake have done. Bridie’s observation was not lost on the bursting at the seams who reverentially enjoyed the banter. Of course it was likely that the vast majority of the seated throng would take great pride in ditching their school blazer during their Grammar days and donned leather jackets emblazoned with The Exploited. Unfortunately it was not Wattie’s lager louts who were identified with, but workers in daddy’s factory. Like The Clash sang “I got my motorcycle jacket/ But l’m walking all the time.”
These likely types now probably read Pilger with the gravitas of swearing allegiance with the marginalised and stridently support individualism whilst confusing Debord for some exotic imported flooring. But there was no songs from under the floorboards as The Chocolate Cake kept to their originals during a streamlined hour long set. With the precision that comes from decades of live performance, they ran through both old and new. The reflective The Centre Cannot Hold, Sirens, The Lighthouse Keeper through the uptempo A Midwife’s Tale, I’ve Got A Plan to the completely gorgeous 25 Stations they pulsed with aplomb.
As with the expected quality of the musicianship, so to was Bridie in form, keeping the wry cynicism flowing. Likening The Chocolate Cake to Duran Duran as a band who lives for the image whilst having a merchandise stall decked out with tea towels was priceless. Their stab at Hillsong, Pentecostal Girl, also featured the confession that Bridie played friend in a Status Quo covers band “because l had the hots for his sister.”
Observations of arcane Oz rock reference points, Lee Simon, Sherbet, Molly, were tongue in cheek gems. Well advanced in their career, live performances becoming rarer, catch My Friend The Chocolate Cake, before they become crumbs for the memory.
BY BRONIUS ZUMERIS
LOVED: The wit.
HATED: Surly ushers
DRANK: Water. What else can you drink here with dignity.
