Live Review: Bob Log III and Labretta Suede & The Motel 6

Bob Log III Valahalla
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Bob Log III Labretta Suede Motel 6 poster

Bob Log III

w/ Labretta Suede & The Motel 6

Valhalla, Wellington

Thursday 9 May 2018

Picture – if you will – a venn diagram. This diagram represents most live musical acts. In one circle there are technically proficient bands that you’d see because you can appreciate how well they play (such as an orchestra); and in the other are bands that you wouldn’t usually listen to, but you know they’d put on an awesome show. An example for the latter category is German metallers Rammstein. They sounded damn awful when I saw them play, but their notorious live spectacle of pyrotechnics and stage theatrics makes them an unmissable act.

Obviously there is crossover within this diagram – bands who play well and put on a great show (Iron Maiden being the finest example I’ve come across in both respects), but given the choice, I’ll take the option of a wild spectacle anyday.

Which is why I missed notable punk band Propagandhi last night to see some backwards sounding novelty act from Arizona.

Labretta Suede Valhalla

Labretta Suede Valhalla

Labretta Suede Valhalla

Labretta Suede Valhalla

Bob Log III Valahalla

Labretta Suede Johnny Moondog Valhalla


Opening the night was Labretta Suede & The Motel 6, an NZ band who have made the shift to the States in recent years. Fronted by the larger-than-life Mrs Suede, they offer an entertaining mix that I’d compare to a rockabilly B-52s. Boosting a recent line-up change with a fresh rhythm section, they played a fun set that got the mostly-full venue grooving.

Labretta herself was the centre of attention. She wore a bra and some high waisted shorts that did little to cover much, with a large flower in her hair. She gyrated about the stage, contorting into crazy positions and standing upon the stage rail above the crowd. To her right was her hubby, Johnny Moondog, on guitar, with long hair, sunglasses and a tassled sleeveless shirt. And to her left was the young guitarist, Tweedy Bird – a muscly hulk in a tank top. He copped a lot of flack for being the young one, who hadn’t played in any bands before, but looked like he deserved his spot – experienced or not. Visually, Boots the drummer (of Sticky Filth fame) didn’t appear to fit in with the odd band, but his beats and grooves show that looks can be deceiving.

And then we had the main attraction – Mr Bob Log III.

He waltzed in from the the rear door of the venue, dressed in a sparkly zip-up onepiece – think Elvis impersonator. His identity was a mystery because his face was covered by a motorbike helmet with an old telephone receiver attached [let’s just ignore the fact that we saw him setting up sans-costume before his set, and revel in the mystery]. Throughout the night he complained about his lack of vision due to a dark visor blocking his view, but the reason he wore the helmet is because the telephone worked as a hands-free microphone set up.

He let loose with a rough-and-ready blues number. The sound was a bit murky – probably because some idiot was perched in front of the speakers to take photographs, blocking the sound. [Full disclosure: I’m the idiot]. And the heavy distortion didn’t help. But we didn’t come here for articulate guitar virtuosity, we came to party!

After an introductory song, Log handed out a packet of balloons and asked the audience to inflate them for him. The next song involved him popping said balloons by stomping on them to punctuate points in the song.

And the interactions didn’t stop there. He crowdsurfed in an inflatable dinghy, shouting “FEET FIRST!” as the audience pushed him back onto stage the wrong way. He generously offered everyone free champagne, using a dogbowl and an inflatable duck as drinking vessels.

In a stroke of marketing genius, he invited people up onstage to sit on his knee and take selfies with him to send to their mums as he played. Way to go viral! One oblivious drunk lady came onstage and stepped all over his pedals, interrupting the song. But that just added to the wild charm of the set.

I’ll be honest: virtually all the songs sounded the same. At the start of his set he demonstrated his 8 sounds: the kick drum, tambourine, high chords, low chords, and a few other triggered pedals. The songs all revolved around filthy blue riffs with a slide, heavily muffled vocals, and looped drums that he played through the use of the pedals at his feet.

Log actually changed guitars half way through the set, and I have no idea why. Usually guitarists switch up because they need to change tunings, but he had been tuning his other guitar already, and this one looked exactly the same.

Truth be told, the sound wasn’t amazing. It was hard to tell the songs apart. But it didn’t matter. The place was alive. Everyone was dancing and drinking and hollering and choosing to ignore the fact that it was late on a Thursday night. Bob Log III promised a party, and he sure delivered.

Bob Log III throwing a balloon at Valhalla

Bob Log III Valahalla

Bob Log III Valahalla

Bob Log III crowd surfing in an inflatable Valhalla

Words and photos by Joseph James

Live Review: King Brothers, Vottones and DHDFD’s at Meow, Wellington

The King Brothers NZ tour poster
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The King Brothers

w/ The DHDFD’s
The Vottones
Unsanitary Napkin
Meow, Wellington
Wednesday 21 February 2018

I gotta say, before you scroll down, be aware that this review and the photos embedded are not safe for work. Seriously. If your boss catches you looking at some of these images during work hours you are going to have to have a very awkward conversation. This is not appropriate workplace content. This cannot be considered decent by any stretch of the imagination. It’s downright depraved. Got it? Well then read on…

Watching Unsanitary Napkin made me regret that I’ve become estranged from the Wellington punk scene. I used to get along to many more punk shows, but the frequency decreased as many of my friends in hardcore bands disbanded. I still crave a taste of that intense abandon now and again, but don’t get my fix nearly as often as I should. Unsanitary Napkin reminded me of when PEARS opened for Strung Out – hyper aggressive and slightly unpredictable. The two guys in the rhythm section sported proper mops – a shaggy one on bass and a Beatles-esque mop on drums. Long hair always has potential to visually enhance a show, and it was great to see the players whip it around as they played. The vocals coming from the girl on guitar came totally unexpected. She was channeling some heavy stuff, because the coarse shrieking didn’t sound natural. It was weird seeing these demons tear through violent songs, only to transform into cutesy “aw shucks” embarrassed kids between songs. I’ll award points for intensity, but then dock a few for the lack of confidence between songs. Fake it til you make it!

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I glanced sideways at my friend Paris. I’d met up with her for dinner last week for a catch up seeing as she had just returned from a big stint abroad. She’d mentioned that she was keen to catch more live music and I invited her to this, the next gig I was planning to go to. Clearly I hadn’t put much thought into that, and now the poor girl was getting irreversibly scarred from this experience I’d recommended.

The Vottones Meow

Next up were Vottones. wow… what a band!

They delighted in vulgarity. Raw, unrepentant filth. I didn’t understand much of what was said, except for lots of “fuck you”s, an MC5 cover, and repeated chanting of the line “I AM DIARRHOEA”. Class, pure class. This is what I’ve come for.

At one point the singer gestured to his chest as he introduced a song. Is he pointing to his heart? Because if so, it’s the wrong side. Moments later I see that, no, not the heart. He is definitely pointing to his nips with both hands. Just to hammer the point home, he walked along to the bassist to jerk his shirt up and put his microphone to a saggy man-breast while he played. What is this, singing titty hour?

The Vottones Meow

Abusing the bassist didn’t stop there. The band riffed the tune to Sabbath‘s “Iron Man” as he removed his own shirt, grabbed the mic and stepped down into the crowd to sing. Although he didn’t stop there. He walked through the audience and out of the venue. It got to the point that he’d walked so far the mic lead had pulled out, but that didn’t stop him from furiously shouting into it. Upon returning to the front of stage, the singer jumped down and gave poor bass-man the wedgie from hell. As in, pulled the stressed undergarments so hard that he practically tore them in two. He then crouched down and put his head through the undie hole and allowed himself to get dragged around by his new noose, continuing to play guitar.

They also invited someone from the audience up onstage for a guitar duel at one point. I think they knew him – he could definitely play guitar well – but he could have been a random for all I know. I’ve been in that situation myself, pulled up onstage to play guitar for a band (although I don’t know how to play guitar).

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People think I’m weird for going to these kinds of things. And they’re 100% correct. But they don’t know what they’re missing out on. Last year I saw a guy dressed as an astronaut duet with puppets. A few months ago I played guitar with the legendary Guitar Wolf. These are the experiences that make you know that you are truly living. Sometimes the path to enlightenment involves watching half-naked foreign men violate all concepts of decency in dimly lit bar on a Wednesday night. I don’t make the rules – that’s just how it is.

The hilarious thing is that after the set the guys from Vottones got changed from their leather rock gear into standard clothing. It’s weird to see a man walking around in baggy jeans and a cute sweater, knowing that just 10 minutes ago he was a vile rock lord. It shatters illusions to see that he was a nice guy in comfy clothes commenting on how good the chicken on the menu tastes.

The DHDFD’s came across as a weird cross between Deja Voodoo and The Datsuns. I know, it doesn’t make sense to me either, but that’s how it was – both terribly dero and stylistic. Scott on vocals was rocking the timeless outfit of only stubbies and a trucker cap, while his bandmates either side of him wore dress shoes. It was snotty punk with odd tangents. “We wrote this one after snorting meth, thinking that it was speed”, Scott explained, before popping a Gollum squat on a table amidst the audience for the next song. I would consider this set mad enough on any given day, but sandwiched between two crazy Japanese acts made it look mild by comparison.

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Next up were the headliners- the almighty King Brothers. During soundcheck the drummer let loose and I found my attention snatched away from the conversation I was having with Paris. Dude has chops! It’s unfair really – borderline cheating. I came here to witness energy, aggression. Wild, untamed insanity. Stage dives and gimmicks. But musical talent? That’s just not punk rock!

The King Brothers Meow

The trio dressed sharply in suits, adding an edge of sophistication to their set. The started off with a bang, with the bass and guitar players climbing onto speakers and jumping off in unison.

The lead vocalist with greying hair dominated as the life of the party. “COME CLOSER!” he shouted, beckoning to us. “COME CLOSER!” As soon as a mass of bodies had collected in front of him he sprang off the stage, the first of countless croudsurfing sessions during the set.

The King Brothers Meow

I’m not sure who was most standout in the King Brothers. The floor adverse singer certainly deserves a mention. A madman front and centre, demanding attention and acting out like a toddler. He shouted and swore, climbing on things and calling for people to put him up and carry him around. But then the other two onstage held it down professionally, with their unceasingly good brand of rock. Usually either the music or the show suffers at expense of the other, but in this case both the madness and the talent impressed.

The most excellent moment was when the vocalist ran into the crowd, snatched a girl’s drink, sculled it down, grabbed a dude nearby for a quick pash, and before you know it was back onstage.

Towards the end the band picked up the drumkit and re-assembled it in the middle of the floor, continuing the set in the centre of the crowd. Our madman friend, shirtless by this point, circled his bandmates above their heads, doing donuts whilst crowdsurfing.

It’s an overused cliché, I know. But dammit I was speechless after that show. I just stood near the bar, mouth slightly ajar, trying to process everything I’d just experienced. Just… just… uh… woah. That was rock and roll. That was a show.

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It’s bittersweet really. I had such a blast. I thoroughly enjoyed every wretched minute. But I am sad knowing that I’ll unlikely ever see a show that good again.

Photographer Connor Crawford recently posted a photo from King Brother’s Auckland show, captioned “King Brothers are the greatest band in the world”. I can 100% see where he comes from. Up until now Iron Maiden and Guitar Wolf both laid claim for my greatest live shows, but I think that I may need to revise this now.

And as for my friend Paris? Well yeah, she may need to get therapy at some point down the track, but she had the time of her life, and was grinning from ear to ear by the end of it.

 

Words and photos by Joseph James

EP Review: The Amblers – The Dustling Man

The Amblers The Dustling Man
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That first guitar lick will tell you everything you need to know about The Amblers, a blues rock duo hailing from Johannesburg.

It’s a lazy, crunchy riff, freshly graduated from the school of Angus Young. But there’s something more to it too, like if AC/DC grew up in the American South.

The blues rock influences are evident too – you have your Rolling Stones, White Stripes, and Royal Blood. Dirty blues rock, y’know? These all tie in to give that dangerous edge. Sure, the riffs and beats follow a formula of sorts, but there are unpredictable elements that only emerge for a bar here or there. If you listen closely you can also hear some nice clean playing underneath the layers of distortion. These parts are heard to pick out, but would certainly be welcome more prominently in the mix.

Fuzzy and raw, the opening track reeks of cool. Resplendent with laid back riffs, rocking solos, sloshy drum cymbals – these guys know what’s up.

The title track is the one to get your toe tapping. Similar to the first song, with a faster riff, and more of a four of the floor stomping feel than the stop start vibe of the first track.

The song “Tired”, on the other hand, is slower and balladesque. The distinctive guitar remains, but organ is dominant during this track. Organ with so much vibrato I picture the underwater scene from Pinnochio. You know when cartoons speak underwater and their voice ripples and undulates as they talk? Another neat addition is crisp piano notes playing on the beat, clinking to accent where you’d sometime expect the drummer to play the bell of the ride cymbal, or a cowbell.

Drummer Jason Hinch shows off most of his chops during the last track, “Keep Me Screamin’”. The verses follow the vocal line – guitar line alternating delivery of Sometimes. The cleaner guitar tone feels welcome after three tracks of intense fuzz, but still retains the same energy. 

For a duo, these guys sure pack a punch. Intimate listening reveals layer upon layer of subtle details that drown under the intense distortion. In fact, I can’t figure out how they would possibly pull these songs off live. Fuzzy, filthy and fleshed out, The Amblers will have you rocking out more than you’d expect possible from just two guys. They’re currently in the studio working on a new album, and that is something that excites me very much.

The Amblers


The Amblers links:

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/wearetheamblers

Twitter: https://twitter.com/The_Amblers

Deezer: http://www.deezer.com/en/album/45793922

iTunes: http://itunes.apple.com/album/id1267131916?ls=1&app=itunes

 

Joseph James

EP Review: His Master’s Voice The Devils Blues- Woman

His Master's Voice The Devils Blues Woman EP Cover
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I first heard of His Master’s Voice when Mathias Hallberg reviewed Into Orbit’s latest album release show. I had been in the South Island at a sporting event, and came back to Mathias raving about this bluesy band from Auckland.

Needing to make up for missing the show, I made a point of seeing the band next time they visited Wellington, and Mathias was 100% right. They’re damn good.

The band sent me Woman yesterday. I’ve been playing it on repeat non-stop since.

His Master's Voice - The Devils Blues. Family of Strangers Tour. Valhalla, Wellington

Image: Will Not Fade

Take the blues and revive them with dosage of danger. Add filthy southern rock riffs. Swirl in a generous serving of Sabbath, Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple. Drop in a few drugs. And then, amidst the swirling haze, you will find you have produced His Master’s Voice.

They play with such a swagger. Whether laying down a doomy groove, or ripping into a fast-paced swing section, the music is saturated with infectious feel.

My personal favourite is first track, “Burning” – a slow burner with a smooth, rolling riff. That is, until frontman Jesse Sorenson cries out “Come the groove!” And that’s exactly what happens. It all kicks in. If the bass line doesn’t get you moving then wait til the tambourines start ashakin’ and the primal drums kick in. And then, just to send you over the edge, we have a guitar solo.

There is no denying how much Black Sabbath have influenced His Master’s Voice’s sound. The title track on this EP reminds me of “Electric Wizard”. Sorenson channels his inner-Ozzy as he wails over a sweetly picked guitar melody. The rest of the band joins in, and the soaring guitars and organs elevate the music to the next level.

The only problem with Woman is the duration. 20 minutes is not enough! But I’ve been playing it on repeat and I can’t see myself tiring of these songs anytime soon. But honestly, what more do you need? Groovy blues with a heavy edge. Music that will possess you to dance. It’s just fantastic.

His Master’s Blues have pulled it off again, and Woman comes with my highest of recommendations.

His Master's Voice - The Devils Blues. Family of Strangers Tour. Valhalla, Wellington

Image: Will Not Fade

Woman is due out digitally on Bandcamp on 1 October 2017, and will also be available through the usual streaming platforms. The CD will be available at the EP release show at The King’s Arms on October 28th.

His Master’s Voice links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thedevilsblues
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thedevilsbluesnz/
Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/user/thedevilsbluesnz
Bandcamp: www.hismastersvoice.bandcamp.com
Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/brando28
Reverbnation: https://www.reverbnation.com/hismastersvoice
Merch: www.thedevilsmerch.com

His Master’s Voice are:

Jesse Sorensen – Vocals and Guitar
Brandon Bott – Bass
Az Burns – Guitar
Renè Harvey – Drums
(Plus Paul Lawrence – Keys on ‘Evil’ and ‘Woman’)

 

Words and photos by Joseph James