“We’re Hunting Grounds. If you want to stand up the front, you can. If you don’t, you can go fuck yourself,” declares Michael Belsar (guitars/vocals), introducing his band of six not-so-merry men. The band has established a reputation for their boisterous shows, but tonight seems to be an exception. Determined to play a set consisting almost entirely of new tracks, while some members of the band are quite notably drunk and others apparently bored, tonight’s set is far from the escapades of effervescing energy that we’ve come to expect from the Ballarat sextet.
Where wild garage rock riffs had previously reigned supreme on their two EP’s, 2010’s Howl and Brothers In Violence, smooth synths now roam aimlessly across more subtle rhythms and gentler melodies. Co-vocalist/guitarist, Lachlan Morrish, seems to have abandoned his fearsome shriek in favour of tamer, more melodious vocals that lack the unique charm of his visceral screech. The new tracks may display a maturity of songwriting, but they’re not erratic or dangerous like the songs from the EPs, and that’s what originally made them so exciting. Old fans will be keen to hear more, but tonight’s set probably won’t be winning them any new fans.
A brief cover of “Clint Eastwood” by Gorillaz morphs into the rambunctious “Cabin Fever” from their second EP. With a prowling bassline, cacophonous percussion and eerie synth lines engaging in a musical dual with the growling guitars, these are the kinds of tracks that make this band so thrilling. The lads’ rollicking cover of Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage” is as mental as the original. Both Belsar and Morrish scream a verse each, whilst keyboardist Galen Strachan takes the rapping verse, while Morrish surfs atop the crowd. “I Hear It’s Love” from their debut EP is dismembered, branching off into a drum orgy, as anyone who isn’t married to a guitar leaps to pound at the skins.
Yacht Club DJ, Gaz Harrison, bursts onto stage and yells at the crowd “they said they’d promise not to play the last song on the tour if they couldn’t get a girl to come on stage and lick” guitarist Tim Street’s back. This sets off a detour of several minutes where Gaz attempts to fulfill this promise, until finally, one girl bounds on stage, lifts up his shirt and licks the glistening sweat off his sun-kissed back. He doesn’t let her go without giving her a kiss, just as the rest of the band launches into closing track “In Colour”. If this track is anything to go by, their upcoming debut album will undoubtedly be something very special.
The mash-up maestros, Yacht Club DJs, consisting of one man hiding behind computer screens and another who is will take any opportunity to swing from the ceiling, know how to throw a party. Harrison cheekily provokes the crowd and encourages disorderly behaviour, while his partner-in-crime, Guy Chappell, keeps the bizarre musical mixes rolling. Mainstream dancefloor hits bleed their way into tracks like Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love” and the Jackson 5’s “I Want You Back”. The dancefloor hits invite an eruption of rowdy cheers, while the classic rock tracks rouse broken sing-alongs.
Harrison introduces “I Wanna Be Your Dog” by The Stooges, declaring it to be his “favourite song ever!” Nearly half of the track is played and the frustrated crowd almost comes to a standstill until Iggy is cut off by some mechanical, auto-tuned pop sensation. Samples of The Rolling Stones, Marilyn Manson, Sugar Ray, Silverchair, Dolly Parton, B-52s, INXS, House of Pain, Elvis Presley and everything in between, somehow coalesce into bizarrely cohesive and oddly engaging mash-ups.
Curiously, “I Want You Back” makes another appearance, this time trudging atop the melancholic opening chords of Smashing Pumpkin’s “Disarm”. It’s not exactly danceable, but the crowd is determined to try.
Supporting their recent mixtape, spookily entitled They Mostly Come At Night…Mostly, clips extracted from various classic horror films are intertwined with a peculiar collection of random folk and ballroom dancing videos, which are projected across the wall behind them. Finally descending into a riot of crowd surfers and general mania, Yacht Club DJs leave most of the crowd with no shortage of classic pop and rock hits frolicking through their minds, and the rest of us thankful for the public holiday tomorrow.
– Lara Moates
