Saturday, 12th February 2011, Northcote Social Club
A band with a story like the DC3 is bound to be interesting. So, gather round kids, for a short educational intro.
Henri Grawe plays guitar and saxophone, and has quite an impressive curriculum when it comes to music. Douglas Lee Robertson plays bass and, with the band Ice Cream Hands, who is an old favourite in Melbourne’s indie scene. Damian Cowell finally, rants, preaches and is in charge of general noise-making.
You could say David Walsh has a role to play in the band’s story as well. In 2010, the art collector commissioned Cowell to create an album (resulting in Vs. Art), the occasion being the opening of Walsh’s amazing art museum MONA in Hobart. During the writing, Cowell put his role in ROOT! on hold and began working on a new project with Robertson and Grawe, and lo and behold, The DC3 is born. The band released their first single I Was The Guy in TISM in December 2010 and played their first gig shortly after in January, at MONA. Tonight saw their Melbourne debut.
Supporting the DC3 is the ever so charming Pinky Beecroft, wearing a scruffy wig for the occasion. He sure knows how to whip up the already excited crowd: “I think The DC3 are the best Aussie debut since Wolfmother, and actually, they remind me of them. They’re also a three-piece with weird hair.”
But before The DC3 has the stage, PB Croft and the White Russians rock their bluesy, energetic, full of impressive-and-slightly-lengthy-guitar-solos rock. The enthusiastic audience is even treated to a White Stripes tribute (perhaps to commemorate their recent break-up), with PB Croft playing the all-too-well known riff to Seven Nation Army. “See, I can do that, fuck Jack White,” he comments.
We are treated to several songs with themes we can all relate to: from a crippling hangover to falling madly in love with a person that doesn’t know you exist. After ending the performance on a high note, with the wig at his feet, and his keyboard tangled up with the microphone, he says thank you dutifully and wishes the people of ‘Northcote city’ goodnight.
Meanwhile, ROOT! merch and DC3 t-shirts (first orders come with a free poster!) are selling well. Everywhere around, people are whispering excitedly. When a band describes their music as “intellectually engaging” expectations are bound to be high. From behind the closed curtains, the sound check of bass and saxophone can be heard, adding even more to the buzzing anticipation of the crowd.
Finally, a voice from behind the curtains starts a speech, encouraging the audience to “buy a lot of alcoholic beverages”. We listeners are also treated to a list of things we are suggested to give up, including Zumba, fake lesbianism, plastic wristbands and Oprah Winfrey (what’s wrong with Oprah Winfrey?!). Finally the curtains open and three gentlemen in suits appear. One happens to have a sparkly silver guitar. This could get interesting. The DC3 hit it off with the song Shut The Fuck Up, with lyrics largely consisting of these exact words. Cowell paces back and forth to these sampled words, adding some extra “shut the fuck ups” (because there’s never enough of those). To Grawe’s guitar riffs, Cowell shows us what is meant by ‘intellectually engaging’ in elaborate, critical and sharp lyrics.
Their hyped song, I Was The Guy In TISM hits the set list next, and the audience is treated to some hopelessly bad dance moves. “I’d like to apologize to everyone who I should apologize to. Whatever I said, I didn’t mean to. To everyone who liked what I said: I meant to.” These lyrics prove to be a prime example of the band’s defiant stance. Their music is what you get if you throw rants, sound bites, samples, guitar, the occasional saxophone appearance and groovy bass lines in a blender.
During the third song, two men in fluorescent yellow work clothing appear on stage with some wooden planks, and start to build a structure, to which gradually, song after song, more wood is added until some abstract, almost tree-like, tall sculpture arises.
I Hate Football is a striking song: samples of a speech by Hitler are set to the cheering and chanting of football fans in a social commentary on football. “I hate football, except when my team is winning, I hate people, except when I actually meet them, I hate TV, except when I’m actually watching”, lyrics that criticise an eclecticism that is found in the band’s attention-drawing plurality of sounds and samples. Describing himself as “pretence all the way”, Cowell is exactly that, but in his songs is fair enough to show introspection and self-criticism as well.
Fuck I’m Dead is played, and the wacky No Longer Popular Google Search Word Party (and yes, that title does indeed give a good impression of what the song is about).
And so Cowell rants and preaches his way through a setlist of satirical, critical, humorous… songs that are received by laughs and snorts from the audience. Oh, and in case you were wondering, the wooden sculpture turned out to be quite useful as a coat rack.
– Laura Macek
