Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

Melbourne-based Immigrant Union opened proceedings to a very full room.  Fronted by the Dandiest Warhol, Mr Brent DeBoer on vocals and electric guitar, their sound was a pleasant wash of southern blues blended with country twang and hints of psychedelia.

It would seem like unfair, easy criticism to draw comparison to The Dandy Warhols’ sound, and whilst not completely derivative, the formula was unmistakably present throughout.  Pleasant minor/major country tones abounded through layers of guitar resonance that was backed nicely by simplified (though not simplistic) floor of bass and percussion.

The tunes were given extra depth and interspersed nicely largely thanks to Peter Lubulwa on electric piano and the acoustic guitar/vocals of Bob Harrow.  A very promising group and one to keep an eye on.

Since the late 90s, bassist Robert Levon Been and guitarist Peter Hayes have been at the forefront of the fuzz/stoner-rock engine that is Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. As they appeared on stage to commence their set with ‘Hate The Taste’, the room was sharply reminded why they haven’t slowed down in 15 years.

The unmistakable opening riff of ‘Beat The Devil’s Tattoo’ had the unruly crowd writhing almost too soon, and it was all up from there.  Hayes wailed gloriously on harp and slide for tunes like  ‘Ain’t No Easy Way’ whilst strutting around a never-ending parade of Gibson 335 guitars.  Been cocked his big bass under his arm in his signature style as though it were a sniper’s rifle.

The two bandmates traded instruments, microphones, and even traded sides of the stage.  It was very loud and it was very bright (the lighting tech was perhaps a little heavy on the strobe button throughout).

Sampling from the more sombre tones of their new record Specter At The Feast and delving right back into the catalogue with tunes like ‘Spread Your Love’, ‘Returning’, ‘Conscience Killer’, ‘Rival’, and ‘Berlin’, all the obligatory hits were ticked off the list with gusto.

There were also some more introspective moments throughout the almost two-hour show. ‘Let The Day Begin’ (a cover of The Call’s tune of which Been’s late father was a member) was a fine example that perfectly captured the tone of this group, and that tone is undeniably visceral.

Leah Shapiro underpins the entire performance with her ferocious approach to percussion and occasional backing vocal. She’s no side-event, her distinct, attacking style of playing allowing the huge guitar wash to be driven forward and held together.

After a brief encore, the mood was softened with some touching acoustic versions of ‘Shuffle Your Feet’ and ‘Complicated Situation’ before the amps were taken off standby and put through their paces to close out the night.

It would be remiss not to mention the unfortunate vibe that seemed to have many post-show tongues wagging in the taxi queue.  The feeling in the room could only be described as overtly aggressive. The crowded brimmed with inconsideration for the folks around them and were met by an equally abrasive approach by the venue staff.

Whether it was the storm pouring down outside or something else in the air, who is to say?  But for many, the shine of this wonderful performance was dulled significantly by the bad juju in the auditorium.

If Sydney were a four-year-old child, it would have been appropriate to send The Hi-Fi punters to the ‘naughty corner’ for a time-out.

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