_Art vs. Science @ Pier Live, Frankston (10/12/2011)
__
On a
frustratingly humid evening in Melbourne’s South-East, which was to be followed
by the most violent storm of the year, Art vs. Science headlined a rare deviation from the
typical (and tiresome) Saturday night routine in Frankston.
We are greeted by the eerie hum of a rumbling synth, before Art vs. Science finally leap into view. They erupt into the fiery force of Friend In A Field. It’s immediately apparent that the volume is too loud, and without earplugs, the music becomes a massive wall of distortion.
Logistically, the venue is a mess. Be prepared to walk at a significantly slower pace than intended, as your feet will continually embed themselves in the sticky, black sludge that is the carpet. The lights from the bar overpower the lights from the stage. Perhaps this is a clever ploy to encourage us to throw our money into the venue’s alcohol sales, as our eyes are continually drawn towards the bar. However, it’s not all bad. The design of the room means wherever you stand, you’ll have a view of the stage. With some new carpet and the dulling of lights and noise just a little, this could actually be a great venue.
“We made it here, finally!” shouts Dan Mac. The band had originally been booked to play the venue in October, before rescheduling for November. Then, due to a clash with the ARIA Awards, the night was moved again to December. Needless to say, it has been a long wait for the Mornington Peninsula fans of the Sydney trio.
The dance floor becomes a wild, chaotic jungle, with arms like branches, reaching optimistically towards the sky. For this reviewer, it’s a spectacle not previously beholden, as the “dancefloor” is usually a moshpit. The energy is much the same, but the delivery is different. Where a moshpit may be likened to uncontrollable bolts of lightning exploding out in various directions, the dancefloor is more like a cadenced pulse of electricity, beat in sync with the music.
Mac enquires “would you like to get higher with us?” before the three-piece erupt into Higher. Visually, the band and the crowd seem to tell a story of a robot apocalypse, where the band are the mad dictators and the audience is the army of subservient robots sent to destroy Earth.
After a spontaneous deviation into a synth rendition of The Star Spangled Banner, they launch into Take A Look At Your Face. “Have you ever been to a festival,” asks Mac, “and seen someone, who you can tell just by looking at their face, has had too many drinks? This song is for those people”. The walls shake violently as the pounding bass in this song rocks the venue.
There’s no shortage of smartphone recordings, as the crowd seems determined to distort their real-time experiences for the purpose of blurred nostalgia. This is a phenomenon that genuinely baffles this reviewer. Does it not seem superfluous to distract yourself from the very thing you’re recording, merely for the sake of reliving it in the future through an indistinct slather of overexposed lights and the crackling of a microphone that can’t handle the volume?
The band pumps out an energetic cover of Electric Six’s Gay Bar. It’s the first time this evening that we get to see Mac’s surprisingly expert guitar skills, as he tears through the memorable riff and guitar solos.
“We’ve toured across the world. Overseas, we have to teach them, but you know what to say in this song”. He is, of course, referring to the enthusiastic “woo!” from the crowd that follows the title enquiry of Parlez-Vous Francais?. Impressively (and surprisingly), members of the crowd actually remove their shirts upon prompting from the francophone lyrics. The track is extended, as the band includes many instrumental breaks and stop regularly to skull entire bottles of beer.
Keyboardist and guitarist, Jim Finn, asks the crowd to all crouch down in preparation for the next song. The majority of the audience is reluctant to do this. “We won’t do anything until you’re all down!” shouts Finn. “If someone is standing next to you, grab them by the shoulders and pull them down!” His efforts are wasted, as the crowd collectively misses the moment to rise, which was supposed to correspond with the growing synths leading into “the first song we ever wrote”, Flippers.
The night ends with fan-favourite, Hollywood, and the band finally (perhaps due to the persistent pursuit of alcoholic beverages throughout the evening), display as much energy as their music conveys. The band leads the crowd into a booming chant of “we are Art vs. Science”. Leaping riotously across the stage, they’re as violent as the storm that we’re greeted by upon our departure from the venue.
Lara Moates
We are greeted by the eerie hum of a rumbling synth, before Art vs. Science finally leap into view. They erupt into the fiery force of Friend In A Field. It’s immediately apparent that the volume is too loud, and without earplugs, the music becomes a massive wall of distortion.
Logistically, the venue is a mess. Be prepared to walk at a significantly slower pace than intended, as your feet will continually embed themselves in the sticky, black sludge that is the carpet. The lights from the bar overpower the lights from the stage. Perhaps this is a clever ploy to encourage us to throw our money into the venue’s alcohol sales, as our eyes are continually drawn towards the bar. However, it’s not all bad. The design of the room means wherever you stand, you’ll have a view of the stage. With some new carpet and the dulling of lights and noise just a little, this could actually be a great venue.
“We made it here, finally!” shouts Dan Mac. The band had originally been booked to play the venue in October, before rescheduling for November. Then, due to a clash with the ARIA Awards, the night was moved again to December. Needless to say, it has been a long wait for the Mornington Peninsula fans of the Sydney trio.
The dance floor becomes a wild, chaotic jungle, with arms like branches, reaching optimistically towards the sky. For this reviewer, it’s a spectacle not previously beholden, as the “dancefloor” is usually a moshpit. The energy is much the same, but the delivery is different. Where a moshpit may be likened to uncontrollable bolts of lightning exploding out in various directions, the dancefloor is more like a cadenced pulse of electricity, beat in sync with the music.
Mac enquires “would you like to get higher with us?” before the three-piece erupt into Higher. Visually, the band and the crowd seem to tell a story of a robot apocalypse, where the band are the mad dictators and the audience is the army of subservient robots sent to destroy Earth.
After a spontaneous deviation into a synth rendition of The Star Spangled Banner, they launch into Take A Look At Your Face. “Have you ever been to a festival,” asks Mac, “and seen someone, who you can tell just by looking at their face, has had too many drinks? This song is for those people”. The walls shake violently as the pounding bass in this song rocks the venue.
There’s no shortage of smartphone recordings, as the crowd seems determined to distort their real-time experiences for the purpose of blurred nostalgia. This is a phenomenon that genuinely baffles this reviewer. Does it not seem superfluous to distract yourself from the very thing you’re recording, merely for the sake of reliving it in the future through an indistinct slather of overexposed lights and the crackling of a microphone that can’t handle the volume?
The band pumps out an energetic cover of Electric Six’s Gay Bar. It’s the first time this evening that we get to see Mac’s surprisingly expert guitar skills, as he tears through the memorable riff and guitar solos.
“We’ve toured across the world. Overseas, we have to teach them, but you know what to say in this song”. He is, of course, referring to the enthusiastic “woo!” from the crowd that follows the title enquiry of Parlez-Vous Francais?. Impressively (and surprisingly), members of the crowd actually remove their shirts upon prompting from the francophone lyrics. The track is extended, as the band includes many instrumental breaks and stop regularly to skull entire bottles of beer.
Keyboardist and guitarist, Jim Finn, asks the crowd to all crouch down in preparation for the next song. The majority of the audience is reluctant to do this. “We won’t do anything until you’re all down!” shouts Finn. “If someone is standing next to you, grab them by the shoulders and pull them down!” His efforts are wasted, as the crowd collectively misses the moment to rise, which was supposed to correspond with the growing synths leading into “the first song we ever wrote”, Flippers.
The night ends with fan-favourite, Hollywood, and the band finally (perhaps due to the persistent pursuit of alcoholic beverages throughout the evening), display as much energy as their music conveys. The band leads the crowd into a booming chant of “we are Art vs. Science”. Leaping riotously across the stage, they’re as violent as the storm that we’re greeted by upon our departure from the venue.
Lara Moates