To celebrate 30 years of dirty swamp rock revelry, Beasts Of Bourbon hit the Factory Theatre with three gigs, three different line-ups and three different set lists.
Friday night saw Tex Perkins, Spencer P. Jones, Kim Salmon, Tony Pola and Brian Hooper playing their way through favourites from albums The Axeman’s Jazz, Sour Mash, Black Milk and as the line-up suggests, The Low Road.
Sydney south coast two-piece Mother & Son kicked the night off with a deluge of psychobilly surf rock to a small but attentive crowd. As the set progressed, so too did the number of patrons until a comfortable swell was reached.
This seemed to have no affect on the energy that the lads brought nor in the confidence of their playing. For it was a consistent stream of guitar rippery from the get go. As the guys rolled between clean reverb tremolo to crunched out distortion with the ease of changing socks, a Tarantino-esque vibe ensued and the scene was set for the remainder of the evening.
The room now belonged to the ones that had been there from the beginning. The weathered faces, the black jeans, the leopard prints and the beards that were attached to actual men.
The thing about this on again/off again band who neverhad a huge level of success but had kept gigging for years on end, is that they, like Beasts Of Bourbon ended up gaining an extremely loyal fan base that can themselves become an important element of the show.
When the Beasts took to the stage with “Just Right”, it was evident that the band had lost none of their swagger and dirty appeal that took them to the road some three decades ago.
Stomping through songs like a pack leader from True Blood, Perkins’ vocals are undoubtedly getting better with age. From the Southern fried funk of “Finger Lickin’” to the cool “Cocksucker Blues”, Jones shows great versatility in his playing and the relaxed demeanour of a man beyond judgement. The same goes for Salmon who shared axe duties in similar stride and vocals on occasion.
The rhythm section of Pola and Hooper kept blood pumping, legs squirming and booze swilling at a steady pace without fault.
The set rounded off at a baker’s dozen but the crowd were hastily rewarded with a mosey down memory lane care of “Execution Day”, “Something To Lean On” and a spit fuelled “Hard Work Drivin’ Man” to name but half.
The fact that the band didn’t work up a noticeable sweat throughout the gig is either a testament to their well-seasoned professionalism and ability to use the precise amounts of energy to work their way through the set or an unfortunate case of horribly inefficient sweat glands.
Whichever is the case, they breezed through the gig and by the end of the night, a room full of long time fans were reaffirmed.
