As if the promise of being treated to a special reunion gig by local heroes Bodyjar over the weekend wasn’t enough, fans of the golden age of Australia’s punk rock scene would have been giddy with anticipation to see such an unlikely lineup come together at the Corner Hotel for a special one-off show, celebrating the special vinyl re-release of the Jar’s breakthrough album No Touch Red.
One Dollar Short were scheduled to play main support, after a dramatic fall from prominence immediately following the release of their one and only album in 2003, and Antiskeptic, while ostensibly still a band, rose quietly from retirement and obscurity to slot in first on the main stage.
And there, at the bottom of the bill, in type just small enough to have you doubting whether you could in fact be hallucinating, were Game Over. For many, the unassuming side stage at the Corner would have served as their first introduction to live music in Melbourne, so it was both appropriate and comforting to see Game Over setting up there at 8pm.
Blasting their way through two short sets, it wasn’t until their second leg that the fans came out of the woodwork, crowding around the stage like eager middle school students at a Sunday afternoon all-ages show. Announcing with a smirk “we used to be called Game Over,” and then adding before almost every song “this is an old song,” Adam and the gang wasted no time in pulling out the hits from their two albums, instigating a vigorous mosh pit directly before the stage that was as irreverent as it was infectious.
Playing loud, rough and fast, they are, of course, more than forgiven for being a little sloppy; after all, isn’t all the best punk rock a little sloppy? For a bunch of guys sporting a good ten years (and an indeterminate number of kilos) since their last gig, they put on a show so ball-tearingly good in twenty-five minutes it made other bands look lazy. “Sci-Fi,” “Don’t Sell Me Out” and their unmistakable cover of “Khe Sahn” were the jams that were met with the most gusto from the crowd, even enticing Adam into some crowd surfing of his own. Others were so overcome with nostalgia they couldn’t help but look on with ear-to-ear grins at the frivolity unfolding before them. Game Over’s set was reminiscent of a better time – a simpler time – when punk rock was nothing about image and everything about camaraderie and letting loose.
Antiskeptic, on the main stage, ran through a collection of their most enduring tracks. Underrated even at their peak, it was great to see the boys back, out from under the guise of their punk rock heritage and free to explore their textured songwriting in an environment where expectations were so relaxed. Selecting mostly from their album Aurora, front man Andrew Kitchen and his rejuvenated lineup played with precision and engery, but perhaps inspired by Game Over’s reckless abandon mere minutes before, never sounded like they were concentrating too hard.
Vocally, Kitchen wasn’t at his prime, taking the easy way out of tracks such as “Clear to Pass,” but the band sounded so tight that it’s really only a minor gripe. Anthem “Beautiful in White” showcased Kitchen’s keen sense of melody and technical embellishments, while “60% Intentional” closed out the set, much to the satisfaction of the loyal fans. The boys also took the opportunity to showcase a new track, entitled “Kids Aren’t Scared,” which featured more of the same guitar noodlery and a big pop-punk chorus. On the strength of that one new track, Antiskeptic’s upcoming new album should be something worth looking forwards to.
Time, however, hasn’t been so kind to One Dollar Short, sadly the night’s one disappointment. Their one quality that they may have hoped to hang their hat on – a sense of nostaligia for a forgotten era of Aussie music – was buried under the weight of a stale performance, some childish stage banter and vocalist Scott’s one-note delivery of the band’s catalogue. Compounding their problems was the fact that the sound was badly mixed, all but drowning out the guitars in a woofy wall of bass and kick drums without any clarity or definition.
They band ran through a healthy mix of their most recognisable EP tracks (“Board Game,” “Is This the Part?”), throwing in one or two album cuts such as “Unsung Hero” for good measure, albeit without much fanfare. Of course, “Satellite” still has its staying power and was always going to close out the set, which it did amiably. It was the one moment that the crowd seemed to really respond to One Dollar Short’s paint-by-numbers brand of pop punk, and somewhat redeemed the first part of their show; for the first and last time during their set, the band seemed truly energised and excited to be playing on such a unique bill. The song’s tempo changes and compact songwriting were met with elated singalongs from the crowd – there may even have been a fist pump or two. Just like it’s hard to stay mad at your old friends or deceased relatives, One Dollar Short deserve to be looked back upon with fondness rather than cynicism, if only for the strength of their best two or three songs alone.
But the evening was always going to be about Bodyjar. Billed to be playing their No Touch Red album from front-to-back, hardcore fans finally got the chance to hear some of their less common tracks in a live setting. “Sequel” has long served its purpose as the band’s signature opening tune, and hearing those meaty power chords again for the first time in a few years was all the convincing the eager crowd needed that this would be yet another great gig from Bodyjar. The sound desk had done their job, levels were fixed, drums sounded crisp and loud, and the mood was right for a ripping show. Cam and the boys have always had a great deal of stage presence, standing up close and personal before their audience and attacking their instruments with a physical strength that is utterly engaging. Vocally, Cam and guitarist Tom are yet to disappoint, hitting each and every harmony and never reaching beyond their range.
In the melodic punk rock genre, the success or failure of a live performance hinges entirely on a band’s efficacy and efficiency. No Touch Red was a landmark in this regard, pairing for the first time the technical skatepunk leanings of the band’s early years and the irresistible pop sense that would bring them mainstream success with their later albums. Bodyjar are experts at shifting dynamics, whether it comes via an unusual tempo such as the one in “Lights Out,” a jarringly effective key change like that of “Return to Zero,” or wandering instrumental interludes like those in “I Can’t Help You,” not a single second of their songwriting is wasted.
Cam and bassist Grant in particular constantly joked about the band’s age, including an aptly tasteless joke about wet dreams and dry farts, and although the show was sold out, it was an intimate gig in which everybody was able to get involved. Punters instigated circle pits that never really took off, but the crowd surfers were many and often; far from aggravating the crowd, however, they were gracefully welcomed even by the fans in the very front row.
Old drummer Ross and guitarist Ben joined the band for “Letter Never Sent.” Ross’ hard-hitting style is unmistakable even today, ensuring the band didn’t miss a proverbial beat. After rounding out their rendition of No Touch Red with Grant’s knowingly horrendous pretend hardcore track “Let ’em Loose” (allegedly written about a horror tour of Canada prior to recording their album), the boys ripped into a small handful of other tracks which seemed almost like a second gig; the tempo perked again as the familiar chords of “Not the Same” rang out, the closest thing an Aussie band has ever come to a breakthrough pop-punk smash shit.
“Lights Out” and “One in a Million” followed in quick succession before Ross came back once more for “Seventeen Years.” The lack of an encore was the only small disappointment in what was otherwise basically a perfect set from Bodyjar, elder statesmen and consummate professionals. Everyone left smiling, with a painfully loud ringing in their ears, and punters wore their nostalgic souvenir T-shirts out in the street with an air of great pride. Here’s to hoping there’ll be more Bodyjar gigs in the near future – if an overheard conversation between Cam and a friend in the side bar is anything to go by, we may not be waiting too long between drinks.
– Darren Gubbins
