_New Years Eve @ The Espy, Melbourne (31/12/2011)
_Over the past few years, St Kilda’s Esplanade Hotel (or “The
Espy” as it’s affectionately known by every single person in Melbourne)
has built a solid reputation for hosting the most exciting and enticing New
Year’s live music nights. This year, the line-up was as delicious as ever,
featuring Jebediah, Paul Dempsey, Big Scary, Violent Soho, Stonefield, King
Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, Loon Lake,
Kingswood, Money For Rope, Split Seconds, Jackson
Firebird, Fangs, Royston Vasie and Barbarion. A line-up with enough punch that
it could bruise you from afar, it’s no doubt that this is the ideal way to be
celebrating the New Year.
Unfortunately, timetable clashes make it impossible to see every band. It’s easy to convince yourself that you’ll watch one band play three or four songs, then go and see the clashing band do a few. But with such fine artists as these, once your eyes and ears have locked onto a target, you’re entranced until they leave the stage. It’s not going to easy, but I will endeavour to see as many bands as possible until I’m either crushed by a huge crowd of eager Stonefield fans or I finally pass out from the sizzling heat.
Money For Rope commence the night's proceedings, with their dirty, growling blues being an explosion of masculinity and ripe desires. Their music rolls like a thundering steam train, on a journey to a hedonistic land, where greed and lust reign supreme. Similarly, Loon Lake’s set could soundtrack a night of rampant self-indulgence (and for some people, it was), with their vivacious summery tracks providing the perfect companion to the scorching Summer heat.
Undoubtedly the most exciting live band in Melbourne, King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard effortlessly concoct a potently chaotic brew of garage-psyche-low-fi-psychobilly-lunacy. Their songs are schizophrenic, at times sounding like they have condensed an entire album into a single song. The deliciously coherent structuring of their music seems to defy their volatile nature. There’s something remarkable about this band. The delicate model-esque features of each of the six band members (although, they seem to have adopted a seventh member for this evening) seem to disobey the brutality of the music, as if we’re watching the corruption of beauty unfold before our very eyes. However, there’s nothing posh about these boys, with spit flying constantly in all directions, even at times hitting members of the audience.
Often, they’re akin to be a convulsing pack of wild monkeys, armed with too many (yet possibly not enough) guitars, a Theremin and enough reverb to residually haunt the building for weeks to come. However, for those of us lucky enough to have seen the band on previous occasions, it’s clear that they’re not performing to their usual standard. Of course, this can be attributed to the evening’s sweltering heat, which combined with the spotlights adorning the Gershwin Room stage, would surely cause great discomfort. Lead singer, Stu Mackenzie, attempts to appease the pain, showering the audience with a mouthful of ice-cubs between songs. A complete mess, King Gizzard is like a smashed bottle of champagne – loud, effervescent and will cut you if you touch it. Yet, so beautifully intoxicating, it’s impossible to resist.
The Gershwin Room is next commandeered by Brisbane grunge quartet, Violent Soho, whose scorching brand of early-‘90s-Smashing-Pumpkins-inspired chaos threatens to shake down the walls of The Espy. The stage becomes a volatile tangle of flying hair, thrashing guitars and impenetrable distortion. In addition playing a number of tracks from their two albums, Violent Soho treats the small crowd to several new tracks, leaving us eager for another release.
Violent Soho’s audience is tiny in comparison to Stonefield, who have gathered a small army of eager punters in the Front Bar. Attempting to manoeuvre my way through the crowd in hope of glimpsing the well-hyped Stonefield, the opening riff of Led Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love can be heard seeping through the crowd. I stand in the doorway for a minute or two, listening to the fierce cover of the ‘70's classic, while childishly jumping and straining my neck to see over the crowd of fans in front of me. With my efforts wasted, I instead return to enjoy the last of Violent Soho’s set, standing amongst members of Jebediah and Big Scary, who are to play later in the evening.
With a frustrating, yet inevitable clash, the most difficult decision of the night is resolving whether to see in the New Year in the company of Jebediah or Paul Dempsey. Lured in by the raging ‘90s nostalgia and an impressive recent album, Jebediah is the choice. Soaring through a number of tracks from their 2011 album, Kosciusko, as well as older fan-favourites such as Did You Really and Please Leave, Jebediah prove that they’ve still got as much raw power and infectious energy as ever.
Kevin Mitchell waves his wrists at the crowd to show that he’s not wearing a watch, while requesting that we inform him when it’s time to perform the countdown. The crowd laugh collectively, pointing out the clock that is directly opposite him. Every person within the walls of The Espy roars in celebration of the New Year, as arms fling wildly, even around complete strangers. Jebediah eventually close their set with a double-hit of Leaving Home and She’s Like A Comet, both of which see and hear a room full of hundreds of tipsy music-lovers attempting to sing along.
After a quick shuffle through the crowd, I finally made it back to the Gershwin Room in time to catch Paul Dempsey's last track, a soaring cover of Bruce Springsteen’s Born To Run, featuring the bellowing backing-vocals of the crowd. Later, Big Scary weaves a densely poignant tapestry of earnest vocals and sparkling melodies, closing the night with an energetic set that leaves no doubt in anyone’s mind that they are one of the finest bands in Australia.
Alas, the heat, the crowd and the constant pounding of live music eventually takes it’s toll. As I depart The Espy, I am overwhelmed by an enormous sense of satisfaction. There is surely no better way to start a New Year than in the company some of Australia’s best bands.
Lara Moates
Unfortunately, timetable clashes make it impossible to see every band. It’s easy to convince yourself that you’ll watch one band play three or four songs, then go and see the clashing band do a few. But with such fine artists as these, once your eyes and ears have locked onto a target, you’re entranced until they leave the stage. It’s not going to easy, but I will endeavour to see as many bands as possible until I’m either crushed by a huge crowd of eager Stonefield fans or I finally pass out from the sizzling heat.
Money For Rope commence the night's proceedings, with their dirty, growling blues being an explosion of masculinity and ripe desires. Their music rolls like a thundering steam train, on a journey to a hedonistic land, where greed and lust reign supreme. Similarly, Loon Lake’s set could soundtrack a night of rampant self-indulgence (and for some people, it was), with their vivacious summery tracks providing the perfect companion to the scorching Summer heat.
Undoubtedly the most exciting live band in Melbourne, King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard effortlessly concoct a potently chaotic brew of garage-psyche-low-fi-psychobilly-lunacy. Their songs are schizophrenic, at times sounding like they have condensed an entire album into a single song. The deliciously coherent structuring of their music seems to defy their volatile nature. There’s something remarkable about this band. The delicate model-esque features of each of the six band members (although, they seem to have adopted a seventh member for this evening) seem to disobey the brutality of the music, as if we’re watching the corruption of beauty unfold before our very eyes. However, there’s nothing posh about these boys, with spit flying constantly in all directions, even at times hitting members of the audience.
Often, they’re akin to be a convulsing pack of wild monkeys, armed with too many (yet possibly not enough) guitars, a Theremin and enough reverb to residually haunt the building for weeks to come. However, for those of us lucky enough to have seen the band on previous occasions, it’s clear that they’re not performing to their usual standard. Of course, this can be attributed to the evening’s sweltering heat, which combined with the spotlights adorning the Gershwin Room stage, would surely cause great discomfort. Lead singer, Stu Mackenzie, attempts to appease the pain, showering the audience with a mouthful of ice-cubs between songs. A complete mess, King Gizzard is like a smashed bottle of champagne – loud, effervescent and will cut you if you touch it. Yet, so beautifully intoxicating, it’s impossible to resist.
The Gershwin Room is next commandeered by Brisbane grunge quartet, Violent Soho, whose scorching brand of early-‘90s-Smashing-Pumpkins-inspired chaos threatens to shake down the walls of The Espy. The stage becomes a volatile tangle of flying hair, thrashing guitars and impenetrable distortion. In addition playing a number of tracks from their two albums, Violent Soho treats the small crowd to several new tracks, leaving us eager for another release.
Violent Soho’s audience is tiny in comparison to Stonefield, who have gathered a small army of eager punters in the Front Bar. Attempting to manoeuvre my way through the crowd in hope of glimpsing the well-hyped Stonefield, the opening riff of Led Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love can be heard seeping through the crowd. I stand in the doorway for a minute or two, listening to the fierce cover of the ‘70's classic, while childishly jumping and straining my neck to see over the crowd of fans in front of me. With my efforts wasted, I instead return to enjoy the last of Violent Soho’s set, standing amongst members of Jebediah and Big Scary, who are to play later in the evening.
With a frustrating, yet inevitable clash, the most difficult decision of the night is resolving whether to see in the New Year in the company of Jebediah or Paul Dempsey. Lured in by the raging ‘90s nostalgia and an impressive recent album, Jebediah is the choice. Soaring through a number of tracks from their 2011 album, Kosciusko, as well as older fan-favourites such as Did You Really and Please Leave, Jebediah prove that they’ve still got as much raw power and infectious energy as ever.
Kevin Mitchell waves his wrists at the crowd to show that he’s not wearing a watch, while requesting that we inform him when it’s time to perform the countdown. The crowd laugh collectively, pointing out the clock that is directly opposite him. Every person within the walls of The Espy roars in celebration of the New Year, as arms fling wildly, even around complete strangers. Jebediah eventually close their set with a double-hit of Leaving Home and She’s Like A Comet, both of which see and hear a room full of hundreds of tipsy music-lovers attempting to sing along.
After a quick shuffle through the crowd, I finally made it back to the Gershwin Room in time to catch Paul Dempsey's last track, a soaring cover of Bruce Springsteen’s Born To Run, featuring the bellowing backing-vocals of the crowd. Later, Big Scary weaves a densely poignant tapestry of earnest vocals and sparkling melodies, closing the night with an energetic set that leaves no doubt in anyone’s mind that they are one of the finest bands in Australia.
Alas, the heat, the crowd and the constant pounding of live music eventually takes it’s toll. As I depart The Espy, I am overwhelmed by an enormous sense of satisfaction. There is surely no better way to start a New Year than in the company some of Australia’s best bands.
Lara Moates