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BigSound 2013: Bed Wettin' Bad Boys, Songs, Rainbow Chan – review BigSound 2013: Bed Wettin' Bad Boys, Songs, Rainbow Chan – review
(5 days later)
There's no denying ramshackle Sydney punk band Bed Wettin' Bad Boys' attempts to distance themselves from the upbeat music industry shenanigans of BigSound in Brisbane's Fortitude Valley. "We'll be making available some analogue digital downloads later," announces Nic Warnock (vocals, guitar). "They're called vinyl." He pauses. "We're also selling business cards disguised as T-shirts, with all our contact details on them."There's no denying ramshackle Sydney punk band Bed Wettin' Bad Boys' attempts to distance themselves from the upbeat music industry shenanigans of BigSound in Brisbane's Fortitude Valley. "We'll be making available some analogue digital downloads later," announces Nic Warnock (vocals, guitar). "They're called vinyl." He pauses. "We're also selling business cards disguised as T-shirts, with all our contact details on them."
Earlier, Warnock remarks during one of several brief equipment breakdowns: "Well, that'll be the last of the BigSound delegates departing right now."Earlier, Warnock remarks during one of several brief equipment breakdowns: "Well, that'll be the last of the BigSound delegates departing right now."
He's one of three singers in Bed Wettin' Bad Boys – a riotous, vigorous celebration of inner Sydney suburban despair and refusal to succumb to the 9-5 (or whatever it's called these days of shared working hours). The music they create is glorious: a pre-punk/punk amalgam of noise and fury and melody, presented in a haze of blurred chords and straining vocals.He's one of three singers in Bed Wettin' Bad Boys – a riotous, vigorous celebration of inner Sydney suburban despair and refusal to succumb to the 9-5 (or whatever it's called these days of shared working hours). The music they create is glorious: a pre-punk/punk amalgam of noise and fury and melody, presented in a haze of blurred chords and straining vocals.
Don't let Warnock's self-deprecating (yet weirdly cocksure) persona fool you: his band's debut album Ready For Boredom is a contender for not just Australian album of the year – and it is certainly, clearly Australian: something to do with its rowdiness and reticence, and those throaty vocals – but for album of the year anywhere. Its songs blister with the same sort of classic rock swagger and punk attitude that once made Minneapolis' Replacements feel like the most vital band in the world. "I'm going to make you feel brand new," they sing on Any Day Now and they're not making idle promises.Don't let Warnock's self-deprecating (yet weirdly cocksure) persona fool you: his band's debut album Ready For Boredom is a contender for not just Australian album of the year – and it is certainly, clearly Australian: something to do with its rowdiness and reticence, and those throaty vocals – but for album of the year anywhere. Its songs blister with the same sort of classic rock swagger and punk attitude that once made Minneapolis' Replacements feel like the most vital band in the world. "I'm going to make you feel brand new," they sing on Any Day Now and they're not making idle promises.
Thursday night in Brisbane, alongside fellow singers Joe Sukit (who also plays bass in Sydney's inspirational melody-punks, Royal Headache) and younger brother Ben (guitar) – plus the unforgettable sight of Doug Gibson hammering his drum kit so hard, you fear for the stage floor underneath – Warnock roars and thunders his way through nine raw-as power-pop nuggets, the intermittent pleas for someone to lend them "a bloody drum key" only adding to the set's charm. The patrons in Fortitude Valley institution, the scuzzy rock dive Ric's, barely have time to register what's happening before it's over, leaving behind a cluster of throbbing heads and bemused smiles. Often, it's most difficult to recognise what's happening on our own doorstep.Thursday night in Brisbane, alongside fellow singers Joe Sukit (who also plays bass in Sydney's inspirational melody-punks, Royal Headache) and younger brother Ben (guitar) – plus the unforgettable sight of Doug Gibson hammering his drum kit so hard, you fear for the stage floor underneath – Warnock roars and thunders his way through nine raw-as power-pop nuggets, the intermittent pleas for someone to lend them "a bloody drum key" only adding to the set's charm. The patrons in Fortitude Valley institution, the scuzzy rock dive Ric's, barely have time to register what's happening before it's over, leaving behind a cluster of throbbing heads and bemused smiles. Often, it's most difficult to recognise what's happening on our own doorstep.
Just round the corner, in front of a sparse crowd at the more upmarket Electric Playground, fellow Sydney band Songs are becoming more and more locked into their own distinctive – no less mesmeric – groove. A four-piece, featuring Max Doyle and Ela Stiles on vocals, the impossible-to-Google Songs clearly value the possibilities of spontaneity. At the heart of their set tonight is the 20-minute psychedelic slow-burner Looking Without Seeing (taken from Songs' second album, 2013's Malabar), ebbing and flowing around Stile's stately bass and the twin guitars of Doyle and Cameron Emerson-Elliot, stopping and restarting without embarrassment or loss of mood. The air almost crackles with electricity. Reminiscent of Spacemen 3's incendiary chilled-out mid-80s rock number Revolution, Looking Without Seeing is a song to lose yourself within.Just round the corner, in front of a sparse crowd at the more upmarket Electric Playground, fellow Sydney band Songs are becoming more and more locked into their own distinctive – no less mesmeric – groove. A four-piece, featuring Max Doyle and Ela Stiles on vocals, the impossible-to-Google Songs clearly value the possibilities of spontaneity. At the heart of their set tonight is the 20-minute psychedelic slow-burner Looking Without Seeing (taken from Songs' second album, 2013's Malabar), ebbing and flowing around Stile's stately bass and the twin guitars of Doyle and Cameron Emerson-Elliot, stopping and restarting without embarrassment or loss of mood. The air almost crackles with electricity. Reminiscent of Spacemen 3's incendiary chilled-out mid-80s rock number Revolution, Looking Without Seeing is a song to lose yourself within.
Elsewhere, Songs sound reminiscent of Brisbane's own Go-Betweens and even a little deviant – for example, the Warhol-esque S&M connotations of the jangle-laden, failed romantic pop of Alone When I'm With You.Elsewhere, Songs sound reminiscent of Brisbane's own Go-Betweens and even a little deviant – for example, the Warhol-esque S&M connotations of the jangle-laden, failed romantic pop of Alone When I'm With You.
Earlier in the evening, the restrained, somewhat clipped beats and one-finger Casio keyboard solos of Rainbow Chan occasionally seem to be at odds with her fulsome, exploratory voice and infectiously enthusiastic dancing. But the result is enchanting. Her set on the dance stage at The Rev is rare good fun: pop and dance experimentation matched to layered found sound and soaring vocals, opening track Skinny Dipping being a fair indication of the mischievous bent of Chan's lyrics.Earlier in the evening, the restrained, somewhat clipped beats and one-finger Casio keyboard solos of Rainbow Chan occasionally seem to be at odds with her fulsome, exploratory voice and infectiously enthusiastic dancing. But the result is enchanting. Her set on the dance stage at The Rev is rare good fun: pop and dance experimentation matched to layered found sound and soaring vocals, opening track Skinny Dipping being a fair indication of the mischievous bent of Chan's lyrics.
This solo, Sydney-based electronica artist has already been compared to Björk – the sadly inevitable fate of any female artist exploring classical grain and pop texture together with dance. Their voices sound nothing alike and the music is more retro-futurist mid-80s rudimentary Pet Shop Boys territory. Aside from an inexplicable lapse into bad taste (a hipster rapper with bad hipster hair leaps on stage and proceeds to mess up his one rap), this is a classy showing from a rightly confident new artist. The disembodied vocals at the start of In A Foreign Tongue (performed with a guest violinist) even recall Laurie Anderson's minimalist performance piece O Superman – never a bad touch point.This solo, Sydney-based electronica artist has already been compared to Björk – the sadly inevitable fate of any female artist exploring classical grain and pop texture together with dance. Their voices sound nothing alike and the music is more retro-futurist mid-80s rudimentary Pet Shop Boys territory. Aside from an inexplicable lapse into bad taste (a hipster rapper with bad hipster hair leaps on stage and proceeds to mess up his one rap), this is a classy showing from a rightly confident new artist. The disembodied vocals at the start of In A Foreign Tongue (performed with a guest violinist) even recall Laurie Anderson's minimalist performance piece O Superman – never a bad touch point.
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