Live

Rip It Up, Issue 109, 1 August 1986, Page 36

Live

Flamin’ Groovies, Martin Phillipps Galaxy, August 3 A good rock concert is in many ways about expectations, and to hell with the reputation the Groovies enjoy in cultdom. I was expecting a concert of good old rock and roll, mixing originals and cover versions, as on their live recordings, and that’s exactly what they delivered at the Galaxy. Alexander on bass and Jordan on guitar are the only original members, 20 years down the track, and the new blood on drums and guitar have added a tougher edge to the music, more akin to the Teenage Head days when the band began, rather than the more pop-oriented period of ‘Shake Some Action’. ‘Teenage Head’ opencu the show and lived up to its credentials as an uncompromising rocker; ‘I Can’t Hide’, a

gem from the Shake Some Action album, lost nothing in live rendition, while rollicking renditions of old rock and roll numbers ‘Slow Down’ and ‘Tallahassie Lassie’ contrasted well with a bracket of new originals, of which ‘Step Up’ was the best. ‘Slow Death’, a Groovies’ live favourite from their formative years, was a highlight, with new face Jack Johnson matching Roy Loney’s original punkish vocal. Not surprisingly the only request from the audience was for ‘Shake Some Action; and unfortunately, this was the big disappointment, the absence of keyboards being keenly felt. All in all a fun night of rock and roll hampered by alien equipment and a sparsely populated Galaxy. The support act featuring Martin Phillipps of the Chills on solo guitar and vocal suffered from the lack of a rhythm section to anchor the sound. Songs that exuded promise generated into harsh treble assaults, all tops and no bottoms, exacerbated by the lack of human numbers in the audience to soak up the sound. PS: the Flamin’ Groovies announced they would be returning

for a full tour in 1987. David Perkins Pterodactyls, Human Lawnmowers, Battling Strings Windsor, July 26 The weather was ’orrible an’ the pub was cold and practically empty, but only the hippest of the hip had remembered to dress warmly and wear gloves — woolly gloves in the Windsor? Yep, it was that cold. C’mon someone, light a fire. The Battling Strings were the only ones who came close to at least a real spark on the night, and even they weren’t hitting no giddy heights. But they’re (very) young and potential just dribbles down their legs, across the stage and down onto empty dancefloors. Terrible tuning problems spoiled the songs, but the short set contains mostest things like ‘BSG’ and ‘What I Wanna Do; and if they weren't warming yer cockles just a little, well I dunno ... The Human Lawnmowers thrive on a bit of intense (as in “Hamilton”

usually) crowd reaction to match their songs, and as one and all lacked spirit in the Windsor, their set consequently meandered. That intensity, along with speed and noise, is their thing at the moment, and when they turn it on, 'Watch Out’ and Tm Bloody Sure You’re on Drugs' will properly blow yer mind. It wasn’t the Pterodactyls’ night either, in the end. Martin Kean is the new guitarist (tonight with just one, centrally located ogre-like eyeball) and writer of a small portion of their set. The best things about the Pterodactyls are Ken’s voice and something called ‘Say it With Oysters’ and Jeff Batt’s ‘Born Again’, but where’s the commitment and attack that will carry their songs to the audience? The jokes kept things interesting I s’pose, but once the Super-8 movies had finished, most of the small crowd seemed to drift off, taking their long faces somewhere a bit bloody warmer than the Windsor. It was that exciting. Paul McKessar

Nicaragua Must Survive Gluepot, July 29 It was all definitely low-key — at first anyway. I arrived when Sandra Bell was performing. With obvious dedication and a strong voice she read poetry and sang a couple of songs — one about living in the city was good. Kantuta (“Hello, we’re Kantuta, and we’re from south America”) played their curiously warm and compelling traditional music. They use pipes, guitar, drums and one of those wee guitar-thingys, and it •has a warm allure — warmly received too. There was little said about Nicaragua, except in a practical manner. Kantuta made an appeal for people to join a work brigade going there in January to pick coffee. Any takers? I can’t see any other way of describing David Eggleton, except as contrived. He might (and does) spew out words like last night’s baked beans (in Ponsonby), but his patterns and rhythms are too easily recognised as someone else's — and his name begins with John and ends in Clarke. I hope it’s just

a phase, I think Eggleton will do something worthwhile and honest someday. His backing band were good though. Otis Mace and the Psychic Pet Healers started to hot things up somewhat, although didn’t spark. However ‘Screaming’ is a particularly good song, and ‘Trains’ perfectly acceptable. Uncomplicated fun.

Honest Chris Knox invites us — no, entices us to a new way of thinking and seeing. Truth is in the eye of the perceiver. Or something like that. Change your ways, sisters and brothers, and skip lightly into the land of the new attitude. It certainly makes sense to laugh at yourself when you were 18, put down a sexist remark made by a member of the audience, to sing ‘Luck or Loveliness; change guitars amidst calls of “Has anybody got a fuzzbox?”, and to fall over. Chris Knox is surely a human being, and doesn’t pretend. Lastly, the Able Ogdens, who are really good. Good songs (‘Fits Like a Glove’), good singing and yet more human-ness. Yahoo, yeehah, and I used to watch Seattle on the

teev too. So that’s it, a pretty good night on the whole. What’s that? Oh, yes — Nicaragua'Must Survive. Fiona Rae Heavy Metal Special Galaxy, August 2 Saturday night, and the Galaxy is invaded by 500 Auckland Metallers for what was a night of pure metal mayhem. First to rock the Galaxy was Auckland band Confessor, who gave us one-and-a-half hours of no holds barred Judas Priest-style metal (including a couple of excellent Priest covers). Confessor have become a tight metal outfit, but have a weak spot in the vocal department. Next up amongst the dry ice and flashing lights were south Auckland’s Stonehenge. Much in the same style as Confessor — loud fast metal at its best. Over the last three years, Stonehenge have become a solid, experienced metal band, but once again they lack the gutsy metal vocalist. Without the power of a Glen Hughes or lan Gillan, the metal voice can become just a scream. An all-too rare occasion, with the Galaxy being an ideal venue for metal. Let’s see some of the Wellington bands up here, like Tokyo or Strikemaster ... and let the best band win! John Andrews Alpaca Brothers, Crunchy Something Rising Sun, March 15 Good pub, the Rising Sun. It’s kind of quaint, new to this rock ’n’ roll business, a little cramped up the front on big nights, the bar’s not exactly comprehensively stocked — but it’s got a little magic that the Windsor and, more especially, the Gluepot can’t hope to achieve. It’s capable of producing a Really Special Night — Goblin Mix, Bird Nest Roys and most recently the Headless Chickens have all played up to their very best at the Rising Sun. First up were Crunchy Something, two guitarist-singers and a drummer. They began rather nervously, at first rarely rising above the intrinsic bottom line merit of their melodic, jangly, tangled Sound. But when the soundman was prevailed upon to turn the guitars up, the two instruments started to bounce off and intertwine

with each other and produce something more special. If both guitarists become more confident and the drummer branches out a little it won’t be long before Crunchy Something develop their own distinctive character and add further to this year’s Auckland rockery. Just don’t be timid! You couldn’t accuse the Alpaca Brothers of timidity. Nic Wilkinson (bass) and Bruce Bleucher (guitar) play great big nasty riffs LOUD. This time they had help from LBGP’s Lesley Paris and Bird Nest Roys’ Peter Moerenhout on twin drumkits (the more the better!), who meshed in quite startlingly well.

But it’s the two Brothers up front who make the sound. Wilkinson sounds like someone who worked on his bass sound for about two years till it was perfect. He pushes the riffs through an overdriven amp, occasionally tossing a chord over the notes for good measure. Bleucher has a guitar just like David Kilgour’s and sometimes he echoes that rhythmless tubed howl that the Clean had live. It’s a lovely noise. Both, especially Bleucher, sing like they mean it. In the course of an afternoon, there were flat spots when the noise battered rather than stimulated the listeners, but on the whole the Alpacas don’t just make noise, they hammer it out. The last two songs (including the one about driving round the Otago Peninsula that I can never catch the name of) were both the loudest and the most impressive. Anyway, if you didn’t like the volume, you could always have sat and gazed out across Auckland from the back of the pub (one of the beauties of the place). For the musician-dominated audience, it was just another affirmation that the Rising Sun is a bit special. See for yourself.

Russell Brown