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Rip It Up, Issue 6, 1 November 1977, Page 14

Adrian Picot

Icedar ParkMusi^Festival

Sunday October 23. Bucolic Hinuera hosted the first of (hopefully) several summer music festivals. A fair sampling of local talent came out to play for 7000 wellbehaved music lovers. Neither strong winds in the mid-afternoon nor light rain in the late evening hampered the mood. There were the usual gripes (food too expensive, long toilet queues, litter by the megaton etc) but nothing to really moan about . . . except possibly one or two of the acts. And for $5.00. it was a really good deal.

I arrived a little late (all the best people do), which was a shame since I only caught the last two numbers by Rockinghorse. However, it was enough to confirm that their new more muscular line-up will make real waves both here and possibly overseas.

On to Living Force, for me New Zealand's most dynamic band both visually and musically. No flash, no gimmicks, no absurd posturing just an infectious bubbling, joyous sound that while strongly reminiscent of Santana, is definitely their own. And if Matt Matopi lacks the supernatural edge Eddie Hansen gave with his bass playing, his voice gives Living Force an added vocal dimension they formerly lacked. Original songs, freewheeling jamming, power, grace and style. I could have listened all night.

The only 'overseas' act was Soul Factory. They have played the club circuit here and had a ball in the Telethon. The first two numbers cascaded and it looked as if the crowd could come alight. When all of a sudden, like a Sixties All Black team, (go on you punks snigger), the game was tightened up with two dreary slow opuses (e.g. "Why I go on the road” ugh) and the crowd was crushed into waiting for. . . Mother Goose, lost sons of Dunedin they gooned about a la Split Enz in assorted costumes. The usual Satire-Rock cliches

(Sound-of-Music mimicry, solos that would not die etc). Rather a pity really, since musically they were really together. Cut the ham, lads and the real big time should be ripe for the plucking. But that lead sinqer, the one in the sailors' hat, does have a mellifluous voice.

Speaking of sailors' hats and things, it was left to Auckland’s only real punk/new wave/aggro band, Hello Sailor, to wind up the night. Musically miscast, they had to work hard to rouse the dwindling audience who were huddled around fires, sleeping or just watching and thinking about what they would be doing tomorrow. On earlier they would have whipped up a storm. Them's the breaks.

And, those Barton people are getting rather good at providing sound systems that are clean and full. A good concert. There are, I am told, more planned. Check them out.