Live

Rip It Up, Issue 119, 1 June 1987, Page 36

Live

The Big Match The 80s? Yeah, l was there, man. Some of them happened about a month ago in a converted movie house up - Charing Cross Road. The occasion was the first live performance by a group called Tackhead. Tackhead's most recent record . is ‘The Game,’ a record which takes the concept of the football single to new and undreamed-of regions. A Liverpool crowd singing ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone' has been sampled and worked into an impossibly rich bed of noise for a big def beat and topped off with a mock commentary by yer actual Brian Moore (‘‘The guitarist is warming up to come on ... such an economical user of the ball.”) One of the singles of the year, it shows how hard and funny you can be with studio technology these days — but play it live? Didn’t seem possible. It was. But they kept us guessing for a while. They sat behind their amps and made Tackhead Sounds, a howling assault of live mising. What Hip Hop Ate Next is clearly anything it can sink its big, chunky teeth into and anything and everything wriggled its way to the front of the mix. So was this Tackhead? Was the“playing live’’ bit just some 80s joke? No one in the wildly heterogenous (from soul boys to punk hippies) crowd seemed to know quite what was going on. Probably a very 80s state of mind, that. But then on they bounded; Keith (’Malcolm X) Leßlanc on drums and former Sugarhill Gang crewmen Doug Wimbish (bass) and Skip McDonald (guitar, keyboards). The fourth ’Head, English producer Adreian Sherwood, was ’ at the mixing desk. Kicking straight into ‘The Game,’ they showed it could be done live — and better. Now the hip hop noise is the most exciting thing around at the moment, but while, say, Run DMC are a great, rowdy live experience, there are limitations on the scratchin’ DJ and non-musical rappers format. Hearing this kind of music with the spontaneity of

a live band is like a whole new world.

It’s all done with technology of course. Sampling keyboard, MIDI’d-up guitar, the odd sequencer and the very odd backing tape. All they are to these men are just bigger and better instruments. Which brings us to the point of this story — just what nakedly exciting ways it’s possible to use the new technology in if you have the talent. There was scorching guitar noisse, compelling dance beats and snatches of all sorts of things. Things didn’t miss a beat when Tackhead also turned out to be headliner Mark Stewart’s (of the Pop Group) back band. Dance music and serious industrial music are now one. You just had to feel sorry for Stewart trying to hold his own on a stage shared by these men with such power at their fingertips. They left a frenzied audience when the house lights finally came up. If there was something like this every weekend London would be a different place. Because there is a lot of crap. An awful, awful lot. Even leaving chartpop aside, there are too many “indie” bands aping each other into oblivion. When the Chills played with Bunnymen copyists the Mighty Lemon Drops recently the New Zealanders were so much more cultural than the star headliners it was almost funny. You can hear it in Australian bands here too, like the Triffids and Go-Betweens — even the Celibate Rifles evoke something more than a desire to sound like a copybook indie jangle. It’s this sense of identity that gives the Chills more in common with Zimbabwe’s Bhundu Boys than with boring “indie” bands like the Bodines. This is how the dense, melodic Chills (and anyone else who might try) can succeed in what they’re doing while the neatest record around is the wild tuneless beat of Mantronix’ ‘Who is It?’ (get the NY club mix) — simple by being themselves. This is how the Clean are selling a healthy number of records here to people who probably aren't aware they broke up in 1983. Because it’s relevant. It’s different. It’s us. The Chills are using a sampler in the studio, but they remain the Chills. There hasn’t been a unifying dynamic in white English rock since the year RIU began, 1977. (Forget goth —

please forget goth. There are some great goth records, of course, but some of them aren’t as great live.) The Fall remain utterly contemporary and original and very cultural.

People here still talk wistfully about punk rock. It’s the last time they grew their own. We should be grateful we have something to offer. Russell Brown Able Tasmans, Robert, Jackless Gluepot, May 30 First on the menu were Robert, who served up a selection from their new record accompanied by a video advertising Fogroll and Blah products. Thundering basslines from Lindsay “Slasher” highlighted their meaty, driving sound, but it sank into a dirge with David Eggleton’s strident yelling, painful and monotonous to the ears. They earnt their pound of dead flesh, and so onto the next course which was a serving of blood, sperm and humour in the form of Jackless, a 30-minute shlock horror video portraying the psychological problems of Kirsten Smith and Glen Solvent. (Jackless, since Kirsten's hero Jack Pallance couldn’t make it for the leading role.) Starring Phil Nelson and other sick members of the Sheets, Goblin Mix and Birdsnest Roys, it’s about a skinny bloke who finds fame and fortune by building up his body in a macabre and violent fashion, depicted brilliantly with Dave Mitchell in full gore in the massage parlour scene. Filmed at various Auckland locations such

as Herne Bay beach, K Road, the museum, the Gluepot and Hardcore Road, Jackless falls down in the bad quality soundtrack which makes it practically impossible to follow at times. Pity the music produced by those involved isn’t as warped as their minds obviously are.

The Abel Tasmans are a group who musically still wear flares. Dressed up in a cloak of 70s progressive rock spiced by violinists and flautists, a serious bearded and bereted vocalist intoned Jack and Jill rhymes over standard R&B, held together by a manically excellent drummer. The Tasmans sung of peace, love and understanding but only during ‘Rainbow’ did they crackle, where the group evoked the spirit of the Velvets rather than the Vagabonds. Susan Camden Putty in Her Hands, Dead Famous People Gluepot, May 29 The two BiFM nights at the Gluepot seem to have been a success all round. Not much else to

do with a wet weekend, and the respective lineups looked promising. On the Friday night were two mainly-women bands, Putty in Her Hands from Wellington and Dead Famous People local. The first act, Putty, was definitely the better. They had a musical versatility and energy that soon had the audience tapping or jiving along. The saxophone, bongo drums, percussion instruments, along with guitars, drums and three gloriously melodic female voices, combined in a rich stew of music. I liked them; their spontaneous presentation and enthusiasm was refreshing in a musicville so often stifled by pretension. Apparently they have just released an EP — I’d catch it if poss. In contrast Dead Famous People were dead boring people. Not only did the tempo drop but so did the dancers. DFP suffer from a syndrome called uptightedness; if they relaxed and began to exploit the full range of their instruments and vocals, the results would be more interesting. Just not enough variety of style, and I found the lead vocalist's voice monotonous. Which is a pity because I think they have potential. (I think someone said that about U2.) Maybe some of the audience appreciated the more mellow tunes of DFP after the frenetic Wellingtonians, but I didn’t. (Though the mixing was better than for the Puttys.) Dead Famous People also have an EP out soon, on Flying Nun. Test the waters if you are not inclined towards my beliefs (which is probably a good thing).

Christine Rogers

Knightshade, Stonehenge Galaxy, May 14 Very few hard rock or metal bands ever make it to our part of the hemisphere so this gig was a welcome chance to check out two of the best locals in that line. Knightshade were first to hit the stage and they ripped straight into their set of well-arranged original songs. Frontman Wayne Elliot got the crowd going with his strong vocals, complimented by Rik Bernard’s fine guitaring. The whole band play impressively live and the ‘Out for the Count’ material went down a treat. We even got a guest appearance from TV’s Gael Ludlow on backing vocals, who added a real nice touch to the title track and a great new song ‘Why Am I Losing Your Love,’ which also included a neat solo from grinning bassist Jon Bell. Watch out for Knightshade’s second EP to be released by Festival soon.

After a lengthy wait while equipment and huge skulls were set up, the Stonehenge intro began. Then it was all full on, as they blasted the ’bangers with a relentless audio attack amidst dazzling explosions and enough dry ice to smother an Eskimo. Their recent visit to Australia went well, and they have returned with vocalist Kevin Farley, who had loud crowd response to his high-pitched screams and especially the chorus of ‘Seek and Destiny.’ Phil, Carl, Anton and Ashley steamrollered on through 'Wings of Steel’ and several other Stonehenge songs, with a couple of covers thrown in for good measure.

Overall, an entertaining evening and some of it is to be screened

sometime on a Radio With Pictures special. Geoff Dunn The Holidaymakers Oaks, Wellington, May 14 Derived from the Rodents, Hulamen and Tombolas, the Holidaymakers play a glad bag of music for the beat elite — a blend of funk and soul, self-penned and old favourites, Womack’s ‘lmagination’ to Tosh’s ‘Don’t Look Back.’ Even the seminal Hulamen get revamped with gutsy accolades: ‘Barking Up the Wrong Tree,’ ‘Beer and Skittles’ and, oh yes, we can ‘Do the Tombola,’ and there ain’t nobody better to do it with. Wellington usually doesn’t produce warm bands — you know the old story, the climate, the politics — everything’s got to have meaning, be politically sound. Well the sound is here tonight folks. Peter Marshall’s got a voice that this town has missed for some years, Stephen Jessup’s fingers twist’nTret and Andrew Clouston is playing with style and ease.

There’s new faces and names I can’t repeat, the vocals are really strong, just about everybody’s having a say and the keyboards just slip and slide beneath a face that grins and smiles. This band breathes soul and the crowd just lap it up. Albert the bassman is solid funk — where has he been all these years? And the band is joined on stage by the soul sisters who breath warm honey. ‘Tony’s Got New Shoes' and ‘I Wanna Be a DJ' ignite the night with a sense of timing and a sense of humour which all too often this city lacks. John McDougal holds centre stage on an area fit for

three but managing on this night to hold up to nine; he’s obviously having a good time and so he should — everybody else is! Tim Byrne The Wreckery

Gluepot, May 15 & 16 From the seedy side of Melbourne to the questionably more salubrious environs of Auckland’s Gluepot came Aussie guitarslingers the Wreckery. Their intoxicated noise, dredged up from some murky crossroads between the marsh and the city cesspit, held the Auckland crowd captive in a nightmarish spell.

With their roots deep in swampland blues tinged by Australian influences, the twin shrieking guitars and squealing sax emitted a distorted rock and roll melee that hinted at the Gun Club and the Birthday Party. Singer-guitarist Hugo Race had a stint with the Bad Seeds, along with fellow guitarist Ed Clayton-Jones a while back; an experience that has left a mark on their music.

The fivesome had a repertoire of up-pace songs with a discordant driving dancebeat and slower, moody numbers that made great use of Charles Todd’s alto and baritone sax. Bassist Nick Barker was nearly as energetic as the front crowd, boogieing and swaying round the stage, but somehow continuing his funky fingerwork. Some of the songs went on a bit and the slower ones sunk too far into the mire to turgidity, especially on the Friday night, but on the whole their dark and dense brand of psychobilly was a welcome change.

Sue Camden