Tuesday

Slipknot: A counter-culture


14 December 2011
by Poppy Reid

“We knew what we were and we just really, really, really, really wanted to cut the heads off of everybody, because of all the disbelief.”

It’s not easy for M. Shawn Crahan (aka Clown or #6) to speak of the events which lead to this conversation. Today is the Slipknot percussionist’s late father’s birthday, a day he usually tries to spend alone, “I try to make time for myself. Only children will know what I mean, if we don’t we will die.” But the month also coincides with the Anniversary Edition of Slipknot’s most infernal collection of metal fetor, the vortex that was Iowa.
 
Formed in Iowa in the late ‘90s, the nine-strong group’s rise to fame was almost immediate. Their 1999 debut went double-Platinum and the following four studio releases were all certified Platinum; but it was the sophomore record that defined an era for the group.

“I remember specifically living in that era,” says Crahan, 42. “We had no money and we had just gotten past the first record, there was a lot of talk, there was a lot of hype, but still no money.”
In the lead up to the recording of Iowa, Slipknot were treated like a product by their label and critics alike; much like the rubber masks the group painted, pulled and manipulated, they too were dragged across the globe with puppet strings tearing their weary limbs. Promotion and tour schedules hardly accommodated for sleep, a budget to eat, or the chance to develop their sound; most members battled drug addiction and inner demons that fueled chaotic live shows but burnt them from the inside out. So when Roadrunner Records pushed for an album of singles like Wait and Bleed, the band countered the request with an uncompromising second record.

“The whole thing was a threat, and because it became such a threat, it became a threat to ourselves,” Crahan’s emphasis on the word ‘threat’ highlights his understanding of the demons that shadowed the recording of the follow up. “When it got that deep and into it, then, wow,” he pauses, “it started getting dangerous.”

Released in August 2001 and named after the state that shaped them, Iowa went on to hit #2 on the ARIA Album chart and reach Platinum status - accolades that were met with neither surprise nor gratitude. “We cut everybody off, we cut the entire world off,” says Crahan. “We did exactly what we wanted to do and we went against the entire world.”

During this time, the group received minimal radio or MTV airplay. Crahan associates the exclusion with the economic cloud of fear that enveloped the nation after 9/11. “It was almost like people put blame on the way the world was acting, on something like us.” Despite this, Slipknot’s following had never been stronger. A demagogue for his christened army of ‘Maggots’, Crahan has created such an outlet for them over the band’s 16-year career it’s natural Slipknot have remained an impossible-to-top metal band in the 21st Century.

“It was like a way of life, almost like a cult,” he remembers. “It was just very frightening.”

The tour following Iowa’s release was financially no better than before, with nine incomes to furnish, Crahan was revolted against when he opted to pay videographer and personal mentor, Neil Zlozower to accompany them on the road and document the band.

“When I look back now on how hard it was to convince people, I mean people were mad.” But there is no escaping Crahan’s authority; as the founding member along with the late Paul Gray, Crahan notes, with that emergent, hypnotising tone, he had always foreseen the band’s success.

“I was always like, ‘look, I have my eye on the prize, I know what tomorrow is. It’s just far off and we’re gonna need this, you’ll see, you’re all gonna thank me later’.”

Most of the footage from that time can be seen on the band’s various documentaries including Crahan’s most recent work, Goat (included in the Iowa reissue). However, one seminal moment caught on camera was taped backstage after he cut his finger on the drums during a Conan O’Brien performance; it was never used due to moisture damage but Crahan relays the experience through a trance-like stream of consciousness, almost as if trying to relive it.

“We basically just gave everything we had into four or five minutes, like it was an entire show. We were completely exhausted sitting in this room, pondering the fact, did we do good (sic) on national TV or did we do bad? What just happened?

“And my son comes in...I had talked him into not being scared of my mask; ‘Look, see, Daddy’s just wearing a mask, it’s just a mask.’ And he’s looking at it and he’s touching it. You can tell he’s fascinated, he’s always fascinated, and I go ‘Look, Daddy cut his finger.’ He instantly pushes down on my wound as hard as he can,” Crahan pauses after each of the next six words, “and then he licked the blood. I looked at the cameraman and I go, ‘that’s my boy.’ I get this look, and my eyes turn into this thing.” The anecdote defines a time for Crahan, where the person he remembers is unrecognisable to him now. “Even my own son pushes down on my wound to make it hurt?” he asks himself. “But then makes it alright by licking my blood? Because he is of my blood. It’s just like, ‘What the hell?! Where are we?’”

In the early noughties, at the height of Slipknot’s success, Crahan was never unhappier. “It was very, very hard for me to watch myself in that era of my life. It was very disturbing.” Whilst piecing Goat together with Zlozower, Crahan says the biggest task wasn’t collating months of footage for an hour-long screening, it was facing the vice-stricken adult he used to be.

“I wasn’t exactly a kid, I was 32 years old,” he says. “I couldn’t watch how I was acting and how I am in that film.

“[Zlozower] had to convince me, almost beg me to leave in certain snippets of myself in there because I could barely watch myself. I can’t believe my demeanour and where my head is at.” Despite being viewed as a tight-knit brotherhood, they battled their inner hells alone, only cementing as a unit for live performances. “It takes me right back to that time, of how dark it was, and how out of our minds we were,” he stresses. “I can see it in my eyes, I can see it in my energy, in my body, my emotions.”
Crahan’s turmoil may have been clear to him but to the public, Slipknot were at a metal-trailblazing pinnacle. They had raised the bar to create a standard which still hasn’t been rivalled. When the group featured as cover stars on September 2001’s Rolling Stone, Crahan silently protested the industry feat.
“I’m like, screw you!” he says. “I’m unshaven, I closed my eyes and I put my arms up. It’s my way of saying to the world ‘well what do you expect? I got my picture on the Rolling Stone. Well I knew I would, didn’t you?!” he almost chuckles at the memory. “What? I gotta look into your face?”

Sadly, the following twelve months after that particular shoot were nothing to Crahan when compared to last year. Their upcoming Australian tour won’t feature a visible bassist - Paul Gray died of an overdose in a hotel room in May 2010 (interestingly, in his hometown where his wife and daughter were and still reside). For the most part, Crahan speaks as an evangelist from the ‘Church of Slipknot’, offering honest accounts of the band’s reckoning. Yet when asked about the death of Gray, he’s clearly still searching for answers.

“It’s not something that I can really understand yet. It goes deep with me,” he says. “I can hardly even fathom the idea of him passing away without knowing his child.” His wife was six months pregnant with daughter October when he died. “Knowing that you’re in love and that you’re having a baby, and then you die before you see it?” Crahan’s voice turns hoarse. “I mean shit, I can’t cope with that, I’m surprised I’m even sharing that with you.

“It’s the most hurtful thing of all time... He deserved to see his little girl and for whatever reason, fate did not work out that way and that to me is unfair,” he continues. “That makes life so circumstantial and random and I don’t like that. I have a hard time accepting that and I have a hard time wanting to be a part of that thought process.”

Slipknot embarked on The Memorial World Tour in June this year and the Paul Gray effigy featured onstage will adorn every show date, while past guitarist Donnie Steele will play Gray’s bass parts from behind a curtain.

“All of Europe, Russia, Australia and America will be a part of a grieving process, a part of that idea,” says Crahan. “Then I think our building blocks will start, I think it’s gonna take that long...But don’t be surprised if there’s still a picture of Paul Gray on a new album.”

In the lead up and aftermath of the re-issue, Slipknot have voluntarily relived a time when the courage to start a mutiny simultaneously built the group to monolithic proportions in the eyes of their Maggots but also deteriorated their hold on reality. A decade later, it also serves as a reminder to those who have supported them and those who have attempted to cross them.

“We’re not a band, we’re a culture, I don’t care whether people like to hear that or not. Some people in other bands don’t like that and I doubt it’s jealousy, but that’s part of why they didn’t make the culture,” says Crahan. “I have a culture, I am part of a culture. Sure, we’re a band I guess, but we’re a fuckin’ culture, get used to it.”

The Iowa 10th Anniversary Edition is out now through Roadrunner Records

My Chemical Romance: A decade under the influence

14 December 2011
by Poppy Reid

Drug addiction, highway accidents, destroyed instruments, a death hoax and a thieving drummer coloured a tumultuous 2011 for My Chemical Romance. But the band’s silent linchpin, Ray Toro – who plays guitar like Randy Rhoads and sports an afro that has multiple fan-founded Facebook accounts – is celebrating. The year that tested their tenacity more than ever is the same year that marks MCR’s decade anniversary.

“We’ve been through some tough stuff this year,” says Toro. “All those things that happened, you can take it either of two ways: you can let it get you down and defeat you, or you can rise up from it. The cool thing with us is that we’ve always risen. We’re still around now and that’s incredible.”

The most recent hurdle was in September during their US tour with Blink 182 when Michael Pedicone – the fill-in for departed drummer Bob Bryar – was kicked out for stealing and trying to frame a crew member. “We were hurt, we were deeply, deeply hurt and that’s all I’ll say on that,” Toro says dismissively. Adamant that MCR will never add another member, Toro says life post-Pedicone has never been better. “I don’t know what it is but for some reason we’ve just had bad luck, and things right now are easier than when it was just the four of us who started [the band].”

Looking back to when the New Jersey four formed in 2001, just one week after the September 11 attacks, they couldn’t be a less similar group now. In fact, each album release since their story-telling 2002 debut, I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love has staged a rebirth where the band has enveloped themselves and their fans in a world of their own making. Since then, MCR have explored the deal with the devil trope (Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge), mortality and the afterlife (The Black Parade), and post- apocalyptic totalitarianism in last year’s most ambitious and meticulously-created record to date, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys. This high water mark redefined perceptions and created a fresh rallying output for escape-seeking youths while admonishing their connection with the term ‘emo’.

“It felt like a power cleanser,” he says. “We were saying ‘hey, you know it’s okay to wear colour’. Danger Days opened up what people perceive of us, not only the image but also the intent behind the band.

“Ten years in, I feel the band has proven everything we wanted to prove. When we came out with our first record there were a lot of naysayers, people were very quick to lodge us into a genre and give us a timeline, and a date, and a death sentence, rather than connecting to any musical movement.”

MCR were even accused of having a hand in the death of a thirteen-year-old girl from the UK in 2007, who allegedly joined a suicide cult after becoming obsessed with the band. “I feel like those people have been proven wrong, and very wrong,” says Toro. “Out of the last ten years we’re one of the bands that people didn’t think would stick around, that did stick around rather than decide to call it quits.”
To the band, the story-telling and realm creation bundled inside each musical movement is not only an act of catharsis, personifying all they’ve experienced, but is also a method which proves more profitable the more eccentric and intense the concept.

“It’s all about momentum and capitalising on that,” admits Toro. “I guess that’s why we keep changing it up.”

Despite the recording of some demos throughout their tour with Blink, Toro says any agreement on a fifth album concept is a long way off. “I like to use the term ‘flighty’. Our ideas are always all over the place.” One thing he is certain of however, is what it will take to match the more than 4.4 million-selling juggernaut that was Danger Days.

“I know from our past concepts that it’s always going to be more than a record, more than just a collection of songs,” he says. “I dunno, it may be a whole new world or it may tap into stuff we’ve tapped into on prior records... we’re always searching for that next thing.

My Chemical Romance will tour with the 2012 Big Day Out festival and perform three sideshows in Brisbane, Sydney and Melbourne throughout January.

Live Review: Foo Fighters, Tenacious D

                                                                               Photo credit: Ken Leanfore
09 December 2011
by Poppy Reid

Thursday December 8
Sydney Football Stadium, NSW

More than 47,000 fans packed Sydney Football Stadium last night for an unadulterated night of rock ‘n’ roll madness from one of the biggest mainstays to come out of the ‘90s.

Warming the crowd amidst pitiable spits of rain was beer-bellied duo, Tenacious D. Opening with Kielbasa, Jack Black hilariously spieled into the set’s comic routine where each track weaved into their onstage antics.

“That was not good enough for Sydney. We said we would provide the lightening and the Foos would provide the thunder!

Between tracks about Roadies and Star Wars references, Black and guitarist Kyle Gass offered up ‘an interpretive dance of metal’ and the highlight, Fuck Her Gently. “This one goes out to all the ladies,” Black said. “But we’re singing it to the dudes for the ladies.”

When the Foo Fighters bounded onto the 25ft hydraulic stage, the stadium crowd had doubled to greet an effervescent Dave Grohl, whose head banging in opening hits All My Life and The Pretender were more joyous than aggressive. But so it should be; since the band’s Goat Island gig in April this year, they’ve released a Grammy nominated album (which was recorded on analogue tape in a garage) among six other nods, screened two documentaries and won an MTV VMA.

This concert was always going to be a highlight for most rock-loving Australians; they’re the closest tour offering to AC/DC this year and as Grohl performed his best Young-inspired duck walk, it was clear they knew it too.

During My Hero about ten swift-moving Foo fans broke through a security barricade into the front GA area as Grohl ran half the football field’s length down the centre runway.

“You know we don't play those fuckin' one hour 45 minute shows,” he yelled. ”We don't do that shit. We play until the neighbours call the fuckin’ cops!”

This tied in perfectly with the first line of Learn To Fly where Grohl sang: “Run and tell all of the angels. This could take all night.” He even commented on the crowd demographic when he changed the lyrics in Breakout to “I’ll chase your crusty 40-something ass down.”


An unexpected highlight came when Grohl introduced each band member while cameras zoomed in on pianist Rami Jaffee holding a joint; “Sydney wassuuuuuup,” he croaked through a haze of smoke.
When Grohl introduced their shirtless drummer he said (to hoards of screaming women), “I honestly believe the reason we play stadiums is because we have a drummer named Taylor fuckin’ Hawkins.”
Hawkins looked worn and tired but proved his chops throughout and even managed to sing two full tracks in Cold Day In The Sun and Pink Floyd cover In The Flesh.

Warring instrumentals were a constant throughout the set, right after Pat Smear smashed his guitar against an amp (and kept playing the jumble of spiking strings) Grohl and guitarist Chris Shiflett played out an indulgent solo-battle in Long Road To Ruin.

Grohl was as entertaining between tracks as he was when piercing our eardrums with that 17-year trained scream. His explanation of rock ‘n’ roll was endearing, as was his take on 21st Century bands. “Don t get up on the stage with some fucking computers and call yourself a fuckin’ rock ‘n’ roll band… Next time one of those fuckin’ bands gets up and they plug in their shit, tell ‘em your good friend Dave said this.” Monkey Wrench was met and played with as more fervour than a thousand fervour-generating computers.

Of the few recent Wasting Light tracks, These Days received the most applause; perhaps because Grohl’s precursor was “it's my favourite song that I ever wrote in my whole entire life,” or because the upcoming music video for it will be live footage from this Australian tour.

It’s commonly a boring moment when a band leaves the stage only to return minutes (sometimes seconds) later to play an expected-encore. But Foo Fighters kept us guessing as they screened footage of Grohl and Hawkins backstage. While Grohl was sculling beer and eating chicken, Hawkins faux-convinced him into a six-song encore.

A healthy burp was omitted before Grohl sang Wheels on the runway’s raised platform to fans in the cheap seats. “Let's hear it for the sad ass motherfuckers in the back seats,” he said. Of the five-track encore the Queen cover Tie Your Mother Down was a favourite for Jack Black’s accompanying scissor-kicks and Everlong for its reminder of just how many years this band has graced our sound systems with each of their unwavering rock ‘n’ roll offerings.

Album Review: Rihanna, Talk That Talk

23 November 2011
by Poppy Reid

Releasing an album a year for the past six years, Rihanna’s consistency has been matched only by her versatility.

Originally marketed as a reggae singer when she came into public consciousness with her 2005 single Pon de Replay, the Bajan singer has since weaved ‘80s new-wave, dance-pop, R ‘n’ B, rock-pop and even gothic-horror in her following four releases. While her sixth album is undoubtedly a departure from last year’s Loud, Talk That Talk attunes all her past influences in what presents itself as a hybrid of past dabblings.

Second single You Da One reverts back to the 23-year-old’s roots with sunny reggae and dull percussion while Where Have You Been begins with a tip of the hat to her 2009 Rated R record; dark Disturbia-reminiscent undertones and deep vocals oddly segue into a dubstep backing one minute in for what translates as a trend reaction to Beyonce’s Major Lazer sampling in Who Run The World (Girls).

It’s clear Talk That Talk was a passion project for Calvin Harris, his production and creative trademarks can be heard right through the record; even the electro-house track he features on (We Found Love) could have been his own, with Rihanna acting as the cameo.

Her Jay-Z collaboration, I Got A Story To Tell is a delightful throwback to ‘80s R ‘n’ B, the pair sample Notorious B.I.G to offer all that was celebrated and ballsy about the genre when it first hit the mainstream.

Cockiness (Love) is perhaps the only dubious inclusion as Rihanna joins the Katy Perry’s and Ke$ha’s of the U.S. commercial realm with lyrics like: "suck my cockiness, lick my persuasion…I love it when you eat it.” Conversely, the starlet could sing about brown paper bags in her inimitable tone with androgynous inflections and we would still call it perfection. If Rihanna has taught us one thing over her six-year career, it’s that lyrical aptitude is irrelevant.

Rihanna’s slow-paced tracks predominantly hit the mark and rival her past ballads, especially on We All Want Love which was recorded in multiple hotel rooms while on tour. Drunk On Love samples Intro by English duo The XX and while the indie kids were an intriguing selection they seem to carry her throughout, turning what could have been a whining bore into a driving force-fight of classic and modern R ‘n’ B.

Talk That Talk has enough in-your-face choruses, ooh na na’s and moody middle eights to satiate her Navy (Rihanna's pet name for her fanbase) but with Rihanna's various facets all on show here, this 11-track album can be difficult to tackle in one setting. Thankfully though, the brand that is Rihanna is packaged and marketed for a drip-fed, single-minded approach.

KOЯN: The Path Of Totality

23 November 2011
by Poppy Reid

14 years after industry experts declared an ‘electronica revolution,’ KoЯn announced an entirely dubstep-influenced album. The Californian nu-metal band have been offering whiplash- inducing aggression since the early ‘90s but are now adding fuel to the fire (or glow stick) once ignited by acts like Prodigy and The Chemical Brothers, whose pioneering efforts came a decade and a half too soon. After a blatant cool-hunt lead by frontman Jonathan Davis, Korn teamed up with today’s dance music innovators like Skrillex, 12th Planet, Kill The Noise and Noisia, who are among the electronic partisans charging mainstream radio of late. The product of this unlikely hybrid is upcoming tenth album The Path Of Totality.The band are currently road-testing the new sound across the US and have just stepped offstage at The Paramount Theatre where their 1,500-strong focus group offered a “mixed” response, according to Korn’s tired but nonchalant guitarist, James ‘Munky’ Shaffer.

“I mean ten albums?! You gotta evolve,” he exclaims. “I remember when Metallica came out with the black album [1991’s Metallica] and everyone just freaked out. They were like, ‘oh my God, they cut their hair!’ And then that album ended up being one of the best albums in their catalogue. They’re still a great band thirty years later, they’re still pushing the boundaries.”

While stylistic progression is often celebrated, pushing boundaries and breaking moulds sealed over almost two decades is sure to incite some ostracism. However the 41-year-old ensures the hype surrounding the sound departure is just that.

“There’s a preconceived notion that we’re putting out a dance album,” he laughs, “which is completely wrong; it’s a Korn album. It just has certain characteristics that have progressed creatively, but that’s what we needed at this point in our life.

“Trying to work out how it will play out [live] has been a challenge for us too,” he admits. “You want your fans to walk away from the concert having enjoyed it and hopefully opened up their minds a little bit to something different as well as satisfying them by giving them some stuff that they know – it’s a balancing act,” he says before hastily adding, “but whenever there’s a challenge, you know you’re hooked onto something good.”

A certain confidence also came when many of the album’s collaborators revealed they were fans of the band. “Some said ‘you know, I’ve been listening to Korn since I was 13’,” says Shaffer.

Skrillex, who also co-produced The Path Of Totality, once fronted post-hardcore band From First To Last; the 23-year-old ditched the mic for a laptop in 2002 after observing the rising electronica trend in music culture.

While the album might seem a bandwagon passenger at face value, its themes remain quintessential Korn. The record is less blunt than previous efforts but still echoes their distaste for the ego and colourful views on secret societies – especially on the track Illuminati – although Shaffer refused to go into any great detail about its meaning.

“Did you just ask me if I am part of a Masonic cult?” he says, offended. Shaffer takes a moment before adjusting his tone. “Well if I was I’m not supposed to tell you. Rule number one in Fight Club.”

Despite many Korn-haters linking the band with US Freemason societies, the likelihood of this is small considering bassist Reggie ‘Fieldy’ Arvizu and former guitarist Brian ‘Head’ Welch’s devotion to Christianity which caused him to leave the band in 2005. Shaffer even says he would reform the original lineup if the chance arose and that talk of a reunion tour occurs “almost every day.”

“If Brian and David and everybody were into it and the timing was right, yeah it would be really exciting to have everyone together again,” he says. “But it’s one of those things you have to all get in a room and talk about.”

For now though, Shaffer is excited about the new path his band have taken and has prepared for the possible fan backlash in the only way a Korn member knows how; with the same heedless aggression that will always be their trademark.

“People get scared if they don’t understand; if it’s a new image or something different,” says Shaffer. “They’ve got to be willing to accept it, and if they don’t they can fuck off.”

The Path Of Totality is out through Roadrunner Records December 5

Album Review: The Getaway Plan, Requiem


15 November 2011
by Poppy Reid

After receiving the national nod of approval in the mid-noughties with their debut studio album Other Voices, Other Rooms, The Getaway Plan’s fall was as fast as their rise when they announced their split one year after the record’s release in 2009.

It was the full year of constant touring that took its toll on the once bright-eyed 17 and 18 year olds, the break up saw them join the ranks of many whose fast rise to the top is met by a swift fall that crushes potential longevity.

This month though, vocalist and guitarist Matthew Wright, guitarist Clint Splattering, bassist Dave Anderson and drummer Aaron Barnett mark their return with Requiem, a darker, less commercially accessible reincarnation that sees the band enter a creative phase, both sonically and lyrically. The album also marks their first with We Are Unified, the rebranding of long-time Getaway Plan advocates, Boomtown Records.

Over 11 tracks, the secret to Requiem’s success is unfolded in every puncturing horn section, every gospel choir undertone and every necessary pause that follows when Wright hits falsetto. It’s also in the album’s production where David Bottrill (Tool, Mudvayne) was brought in late during the recording with his mind set on the unconventional. This speaks volumes in tracks like S.T.A.R.S where sharp strings and echoing guitars match Wright’s sombre vocals early on, sounding even more elegiac when the Boys Choir from Sterling Hall School chime in later; or on the should-be-second-single Heartstone which makes pounding military-style drums seem apposite when laced with lyrics like, ‘it won’t be too long ‘til the end of the world.’

Phantoms could be the Streetlight of Requiem but the underpinning of transient chord changes take it to another level. The track is genius in its approach but detrimental for the same reasons; no matter how many Gotyes or Angus & Julia Stones break into the Australian commercial sphere after taking the road less travelled, most are ostracised if they don’t fit through the machine’s cookie-cutter cogs. Child Of Light is another example of this, where a plethora of sounds from string and wind instruments offer sparse and controlled nuances to the hovering soundscape.

Requiem could have been listed as a late contender among the top indie-rock albums of 2011, if it weren’t for one annoying oh-so-close misfire. The acoustic-led filler, Oceans Between Us upsets the calculated balance of rolling guitars and ascending vocals, disrupting the swirl of ingenuity nine tracks in.

Although an anticipated new sound was promised, Requiem doesn’t flow far from Other Voices/Other Room’s vein; a welcome rush of a reinvigorated trademark.

Requiem is out now through UNFD/WMA

Monday

Live Review: Kings Of Leon

                                                                             Photo credit: Ken Leanfore

07 November 2011
by Poppy Reid

Friday November 4
AllphonesArena, Sydney, NSW

The opening concert of King Of Leon’s postponed return to Australia needed to be a cascading, triumphant exhibition - and that’s exactly what it was.

Emerging onto a red haze of dry ice following fellow Southern American soft-rockers Band Of Horses (who really ought to be headlining their next visit), Kings Of Leon were met with deafening appreciation by fans at AllphonesArena on Friday night.

They opened with Radioactive, the first single from their recent fifth album, Come Around Sundown; its intense chords carried the catchy upward swirl of frontman Caleb Followill’s grainy vocals, the spiral settled only for the wandering ‘ooh ooh’s’ from rear-stage songbird and drumming brother, Nathan Followill.

Reaching back to their second album Aha Shake Heartbreak for following track Four Kicks, Caleb resumed the generic power-stance as he strummed with rapid authority, strobe lights endeavoured to keep up but fell short, exacerbating his precision. Switching to acoustic guitar for Fans brought Caleb’s vocal nuances to the forefront, perhaps the fact he sipped on water while fellow guitarists Matthew and Jared drank from red paper cups contributed to his articulate agility; although some seemed disappointed that this set wouldn’t see a repeat of their July gig in Texas.


Throwing guitar picks into the crowd every few tracks, the excitement surged across the arena through early track Back Down South where touring member Christopher Coleman played two of his five instruments simultaneously to the set’s first immaculate sing-along, Revelry, introduced by Caleb with a: “thanks a lot for coming back.” 

Each track built gloriously onto the last, the audience even cheered when lead guitarist Matthew spat on the stage at the end of My Party and smoked a cigarette through Knocked Up. He was the band’s hilarious rockstar, the racing track Closer saw him play the intro with his teeth while Nathan played his bass outward from his chest like a shot gun.

“Has everybody had a good time tonight?” Caleb asked the obligatory question knowing full well they had executed Sydney. “I want everybody to scream.”

They finished the main set with a roaring rendition of their mainstream hit Sex On Fire and after the traditional interval ritual the band re-emerged for a four-track encore. The Bucket, Manhattan, Use Somebody and Black Thumbnail were celebrated with a slow-building blur of smoke, fireworks and Caleb’s long-awaited antics as he kicked over his mic stand. The encore was the gig highlight, the band teased us with slow-burning tension which erupted just when we anticipated it most. Similar to their set, Kings Of Leon have been quietly cementing their place in the wall of greats through subtle tenacity and performances such as this.

Album Review: Jane's Addiction, The Great Escape Artist


04 November 2011
by Poppy Reid

With lyrics like “You were the foreskin, I was the real head,” sung over MIDI effects just two tracks in, Jane’s Addiction prove that even through multiple hiatuses, lineup changes and rehab stints, they remain accessible and diverse with each hedonistic album release.

Despite spearheading grunge since the early ‘80s, The Great Escape Artist is the Californian quartet’s first album in eight years. Record number four sees the band team with producer Rich Costey (Weezer, Muse, My Chemical Romance) and TV On The Radio’s Dave Sitek (The Foals, Yeah Yeah Yeahs) who pitched in as writer, programmer, keys and bass player. In fact, with the many bases covered by Sitek, he’s ended up playing on more tracks than the band’s other unofficial frontman, Dave Navarro.
The Great Escape Artist is also the first time in the band’s 25-year career where the use o f synths, MIDI edits and effects can be heard. As the album title suggests, the band have become heavily addicted to swapping one dependence for another, this time around they’re fiends for a fresh distraction, and thankfully it doesn’t translate as a desperate attempt for relevance, as Jane’s Addiction have never been an act to seek it.

Just as Ziggy Stardust and Iggy Pop centralised their efforts around escapism through bizarre, antagonistic vocals and sophisticated chord progressions, this record follows a similar line, with tracks like Twisted Tales and Ultimate Reason weaving and merging into one another.
Elsewhere, early track Curiosity Kills stands alone as reverberating, organised fervency with frontman Perry Farrell delivering impeccable vocals that parallel the band’s early work.

Just when you thought 2003’s Strays was as varied and youthful a fusion as Jane’s Addiction had the ability to produce, The Great Escape Artist retains their spot on a pedestal of their own making.

Sunday

Kelly Clarkson: Stronger

30 October 2011
by Poppy Reid
"Tea is the shit y’all.”
Kelly Clarkson has just fixed herself a cup of tea and is making her way over to a couch in Sydney’s Shangri-La Hotel, hair and makeup artist and manager in tow. In the country for just a few days to perform at the NRL Grand Final and to promote her fifth album, Stronger, it’s hard to believe it was over a decade ago when this ebullient Texan became the original American Idol.
Clarkson, 29 was thrust into pop- stardom overnight when she took out the incipient title in 2002. The ingénue maintained her disposition throughout the past 11-years and now boasts five albums, 59 million records sold, countless accolades including two Grammys and three MTV Video Music Awards, and a labeling as one of the world’s best selling artists. Her rise could be perceived as an interminable record company marketing strategy, but her intransigent nature as Miss Independent (pardon the pun), that has seen her butt heads with canonical figures throughout her career, is enough to believe her dismissal of pop culture fame.
“I’ve worked with a manager, a previous manager,” she says, “Who wanted me to be the biggest star in the world and I said, ‘one problem, I don’t want to be’.”
Clarkson is referring to Jeff Kwatinetz whom she fired in 2007 for trying to mould her into the exact protégé Simon Fuller had intended for all his Idol contestants.
“His goals were different, I’m not Madonna, I’m not Britney Spears, that’s not my goal. I don’t want that kind of pressure put on me because it’s not something I want,” she affirms. “I just want to maintain me and I don’t want to ruin it trying to be somebody else just because somebody thinks I have the capability.”
Clarkson is part fresh-faced American dream, part brutally forthright country queen. She is the product of ten years of sensationalist tabloid interest that she spent every moment shying away from; a dichotomy she says only fuels the press’ need to badger her. “With other people, they’re either getting out of rehab or they date so many people, or there’s drug addictions, or they’re drunk coming out of a club - there’s so much going on with other artists I think I must throw people off their game,” she laughs. “I live in Nashville, Tennessee and in Texas. I don’t live in the natural industry world so I just think people don’t really know what to do with me; it’s weird.”

Media’s inability to categorise her shaded personal life has lead them scrambling at attempts to fabricate her social life. Although Clarkson pointedly refuses to read her critic’s opinions, there have been a few to slip through the cracks. “I learned that on Idol, she says, “not to read stuff ‘cause it’s either gonna give you a big head or it’s gonna make you want to kill yourself.” One particular rumour that did penetrate her bubble-of-steel is also the one jab she takes the most offence to.
“I’m so unfiltered, if I was a lesbian I would be like ‘you know what I’m gay! I’d actually probably have more luck. “I think it’s insulting to the gay community; just because you’re single doesn’t necessarily mean you’re gay.”
The track and music video for Stronger’s first single, Mr. Know It All is Clarkson’s retaliation against this. She handpicked magazine clippings herself with titles like ‘Kelly fights with label’, ‘Why so single Kelly?’ and ‘Is Kelly Clarkson straight?’ to make a floor-to-ceiling collage of bad press. “They’re all complete jokes to us, we totally make fun of [the press]... You have to, for ten years it’s been happening.” The rest of the album follows a similar theme where Clarkson questions unlettered opinions over “pop rock with some stank on it.”
She even includes a Bible reference in the track Honestly, where she relates her life to that of Jezebel. “She gets stoned and then Jesus from the Bible says ‘whoever hasn’t sinned then you can throw the first stone’ - This isn’t quite how the quote reads, but whatever,” she adds. “It’s like with Britney especially because the poor girl gets kicked left and right - people are like ‘oh I can’t believe you did that’ but the person saying that probably has a thousand things that they’ve done similar or in the same kind of vein. It’s a song that says ‘ okay cool you can do that, if you can do it honestly’.” 

Having just dropped her fifth album into the clammy hands of her zealots and the trigger-happy index fingers of her critics, Clarkson intends to straighten her blinders and assert her hopes for the album’s future solely on her fanbase.
“I hope that people get inspired from the album,” she says wishfully. “I hope it’s an album that people can turn on and feel good about life.”

Monday

Tonight Alive: Landed

17 October 2011
by Poppy Reid
Seated on Sony Music’s delegated interview couch in Sydney, Tonight Alive’s self-assigned promo duo, Jenna McDougall and Whakaio (say it as if you’re about to cuss the F-word) Taahi look as though their smiles might emit an explosion of rainbows and Skittles at any given moment. They’ve just finished hosting a slot on Channel [V] and their debut album What Are You So Scared Of? is mere hours from dropping – probably not the best moment to bring up the plethora of Paramore parallels that have been following the five-piece since forming in 2008.

“I think it’s a lazy comparison,” says 19-year-old McDougall, a little irked. “It’s easy to say that. Especially when journalists write something about us and that’s the first thing they say; you wouldn’t really say that about a male fronted band.”
                                                                                   Photo credit: Ken Leanfore


But for McDougall, guitarists Taahi and Jake Hardy, Bassist Cam Adler and drummer Matt Best Tonight Alive was always going to be a femme-fronted pop punk band. After Taahi joined Hardy and Adler’s cover band in Year 11 he spearheaded the auditioning and forming of a band powered by jovial angst and unabashed pop punk referencing.

“I kind of kicked out the singer,” laughs Taahi, 21 “Then we got Jenna in and I kicked out the drummer, and then we got Matt.”

Undoubtedly still completing their green years, the band’s bright-eyed and baby-faced disposition garnered them a major label record deal this year, globetrotting support tours with their genre’s luminaries and a six-week recording stint in L.A. with producer-great, Mark Trombino (Blink 182, Jimmy Eat World). While it may seem like every kid with aPunk-O-Rama boxset’s wet dream, Tonight Alive are a long way from gaining any kind of independence.


“I guess the only hard thing is money, ‘cos we can’t work while we do this,” says Taahi, oblivious to the fact he actively doesn’t consider Tonight Alive work. “We all have nothing in our bank account at the moment but this is what we love doing.”

Unfortunately it’s the parentals that have been funding the band’s dream since they collectively decided to forgo HSCs and university degrees to make Tonight Alive top priority. “It’s tough having to always borrow money off my parents,” says McDougall. “But it’s all I have right now.” Desperate times did indeed lead to desperate measures whilst in Brisbane touring with Simple Plan recently. “Since we’re all broke the band made a bet with Whakaio,” begins McDougall before Taahi cuts her off to explain the wager in between chuckles.

“When I’m onstage I always stand in this massive power stance like an idiot, and all my jeans are split in the crotch. Before we were gonna go on [stage] they said ‘why don’t you just cut the leg off, we’ll give you 70 bucks.’ “So I just had one full leg and one booty shorts leg, my undies were out and everything, and I went out and played to a sold out Tivoli.”

The band sold out a few venues of their own this year; while touring their Starlight EP Tonight Alive played two back-to-back shows at Sydney’s Annandale Hotel this July, a moment which Taahi says marked the point where he realised Australia was listening. “I remember just looking over at our drummer Cam and we both knew what we were thinking: ‘what the fuck did we do to deserve this?’”
Since then, Tonight Alive have become the poster kids for follow-your-dreams inspiration arrangements, even landing the Ambassador position for My School Act, an online music and talent competition for high school students. “We were in high school when we started the band and we did stupid little competitions to try and get ahead,” says Taahi. “But this one is a really good opportunity that we would have loved to have had when we were in school.”

The band understand they were flown into the spotlight and were developing their own sound before they’d even fully developed themselves. “I think I’ve been experiencing things that a lot of kids my age won’t experience for a long time,” admits McDougall. “There’s expectations that you put on yourself, adult expectations,” adds Taahi, “We’re in an adult world,” McDougall tells her bandmate.

They may be small fish in a big pond with media endeavouring to pigeonhole them at every turn into boxes they think the public can handle, but Tonight Alive are determined to stand their ground and carve their own path using stern revolt and an integrity moulded since their early teens.

“We just concentrate on our own sound and playing shows,” says Taahi. “Hopefully with the release of this album we’ll go in our own direction.”

What Are You So Scared Of? is out now through Sony Music.

Thursday

Panic! At The Disco


14 October 2011
by Poppy Reid

When Panic! At The Disco’s Brendon Urie was 18-years- old, he told his parents he had no plans to further his education and would be moving out with three other wide-eyed dreamers into a room, in a basement, to live on a diet of theatrical pomp music and callow faith. “I was definitely acting like a little asshole, I wasn’t the nicest kid,” he says from a hotel room in Sydney.

Eight years later, the Las Vegas lads turned their nascent hope into a two-million-selling debut, A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out, an ARIA #1 with 2008’s Pretty.Odd and a third record which subsequently split the quartet directly down their monolithic middle.

Urie and drummer Spencer Smith kept the moniker and the sound whilst guitarist Ryan Ross and bassist Jon Walker went on to become The Young Veins before dividing again to seek an even more self-governed path as solo artists.

“They basically told us, ‘hey we’re gonna start this new band,’ and we said, ‘that’s totally cool, whatever you guys want to do’.” The 24-year-old had felt the need for the split as soon as the band had started work on the most recent album, Vices & Virtues in 2009.

“We realised it was really for the best because we didn’t want to go into a studio where we’d have to compromise a bunch of our ideas because we didn’t see eye to eye.” With Ross as the band’s principal lyricist -“[Ross] did 99% of it,” Urie quips - media’s censorious eyes were on Urie and Smith to see how they would follow the success of their last two offerings.
“We didn’t really like to think about it, it gave us anxiety a little bit,” he says. The pair approached the pressure in much the same way they have approached their music from the beginning, using cathartic self-reflection to study their own behaviour instead of others. “If you start dictating what you do by what other people are saying it just seems cheap,” he adds.

Understandably, Urie was at first uneasy about leading the band’s lyric march but after teaming with Pretty. Odd producer Rob Mathes and songwriter-producers Butch Walker (Avril Lavigne, Weezer) and John Feldman (Good Charlotte, Foxy Shazam), Urie says the creativity flowed easy.

“I think I was a little anxious,” he admits. “I didn’t really know how I wanted to go about it but it just kept happening song by song by song.” One track even played a hand in Urie and Smith’s emancipation from the former Panic! The Calendar began as “a guy and a girl story,” and although lyrics like ‘Put another ex on the calendar, summer’s on its deathbed,’ paint a similar picture, when the pair changed the meaning to denote themselves and their critics the track’s purpose changed.

“We changed it from a boy and a girl to the story of us and that tied it all together,” he says. “It was a therapeutic thing to do to get things off our chest that would have been more difficult to do if we hadn’t written it in a song.”

Despite Vices & Virtues being widely received as the first opus from Panic! as a duo, they weren’t a twosome for long. Guitarists, Ian Crawford and Dallon Weekes soon joining the ranks; Crawford left fellow Nevada band The Cab around the same time as Ross and Walker’s departure and Weekes had previously played bass for indie band The Brobecks.

“We felt so fortunate that we found people with the same sense of humour, we also seem to have a similar taste in music and where we see the band going.” But Urie assures he and Smith won’t be too quick to jump into bed with them; he maintains they’ll make sure they’re certain so as to avoid a Ross- Walker repeat.

“It’s kind of like a marriage, we didn’t want to rush into a pre-nup or any kind of agreement,” he laughs. “But we’ve been dating each other for a while and y’know we’re dating and I think it will eventually happen.”

With Vices & Virtues peaking at #6 on the ARIA Album chart and their first two singles weaving their way to the forefront of the commercial airwaves, Panic! At The Disco’s return to form has been met with a widespread nod of approval from the critics they could care less about.

Tuesday

Live Review: The Amity Affliction

12 October 2011
                                                                             Photo credit: Jared Van Earle

by Poppy Reid

Sunday October 9
Big Top, Luna Park, Sydney, NSW

Since the #6 ARIA debut of sophomore effort Youngbloods, The Amity Affliction have been one of the most sensationalised acts in the Australian post-hardcore scene.

Emerging from the deep bowels of Brisbane’s most raw music scene, the six-piece earned their pedestal position through years of constant touring and creating a live atmosphere that juxtaposed their sound but reinforced their lyrics.

However, the band’s Sydney show of the Fuck The Reaper tour was not the best example of their positive, encouraging disposition; the live show gimmicks were there, the onstage antics were there, but their signature tight and precise sound came off bloated and tired.

Opening with RIP Foghorn, Amity began right on form; the sextet’s screaming counterpart, Joel Birch buckled his body in half and sang with intense conviction. A body board was thrown into the crowd for H.M.A.S. Lookback and some unskilled punters tried to catch a human wave while Amity’s technical proficiency seemed wholly in tact.

To be fair, the largely Youngbloods borrowed set didn’t falter until around the halfway mark for fan favourite Snitches Get Stitches; Amity may be renowned for forgoing precision for personality but not even their light-hearted take on the death wall (they asked us to high five each other instead) could disguise their lethargy.

The vocals from lead guitarist/clean vocalist Ahren Stringer paled in comparison to Danny Worsnop who’s band Asking Alexandria were received and performed like headliners before Amity took the stage. After Birch struggled to deliver his growls in final track Anchors the band wasted no time returning for their most popular single I Hate Hartley. The obvious encore was met with savage fervour from the crowd as the band fought powerlessly to match their energy.

The Amity Affliction are revered enough to warrant at least a handful of off-nights and I can almost guarantee any disappointed crowd member will be back to catch them again next time they’re in town; but unfortunately it has become a recurrence for the band in the live realm where as soon as their energy and accuracy wains so too does their integrity.

Monday

Lanie Lane: To The Horses

11 October 2011
by Poppy Reid

Sydney songbird, Lanie Lanie has flown far from home to make her U.S. debut this month, and as she speaks softly over the phone from Los Angeles you can hear the cringe in her voice as she’s asked for the umpteenth time that day about the man who pushed her into public consciousness, Jack White. “I don’t know the guy really, I only spent seven hours with him,” quips the 24-year-old.

Lane says it was more of a “right place at the right time” situation when her management had a connection with the General Manager of the White Stripes’ Third Man Records studio. “My management knew that he would like my music so he passed it on to Jack White who emailed me and asked me to go and record with him.”

It may sound as though she’s attempting to play down the two tracks she recorded in the Nashville studio, but Lane is well aware of the weight a White endorsed product holds, even if their only connection was through the music.

“We really didn’t talk about personal stuff or anything like that,” she says sternly. “It was all about making music and recording together, and having this bond through the song. If Jack White likes it you know the song’s gonna be good.” And just like that Lane joined the eclectic list of luminaries like Laura Marling, Cold War Kids and Insane Clown Posse who have all recorded at Third Man with White.

While plainly conscious of the positive consequence that came with White’s stamp of approval, the biggest and most surprising victory for Lane was the fact they shared common ground. “For me it was interesting just being able to work with someone who had a similar approach to life and music that I did,” she recalls. “He created a world of his own and I really want to bring people into my world the way he has.”

It’s this dichotomous world of Lane’s that will prove an easy fit for most; her debut album To The Horses touches on the heartache that comes akin with empathy in Heartbeat, living on your own terms in the record’s title track, and the drudgery of working a job you hate in first single What Do I Do. After four years working a “really gritty job” as a florist to support her dream of pursuing music full-time, Lane is thankfully too busy singing in all four corners of the globe to be messing about with florets.

“People romanticise floristry and I can only say that my sympathies are with the florists...I had to remain open because it’s not a strategic move having a career in music, it’s more like a long life decision of ‘this is what I want to do.’”

Encouraging her from an early age are her parents who played a sizeable hand in the country/rockabilly/pop and roots hybrid she is today. Her father taught her the basics of guitar and is said to be the most prominent influence on her taste in music; but as Lane remembers through stifled laughter, her mother’s Irish heritage also helped form her style.
“She said the other day ‘you know, people always go on about how it was your dad and his record collection, but you know actually I played a lot of those records!’ She loves having a bit of ownership of that, so good on her.”

Lane may possess a different sound than the aural-rape that has been clogging radio airwaves of late, but she’s not alone; with artists like Imelda May, Kitty, Daisy & Lewis and Mylee Grace among those spearheading a resurgence in rockabilly blues, Lane joins the ranks of those allowing their genetics define their creations.

“I feel like I must have something like that in my blood that makes me love the old time music,” she says.

Her debut may be the product of years of material, but Lane would prefer you see it from a distance. “To The Horses is about me living my life in terms of seeing the big picture and doing what I want the way I want to do it with the right people,” she explains. “I think having a collection of morals that are grounding of that sentiment is important.”

Lanie Lane’s unapologetic sensitivity is comparable only to her determination and musical genius. As an enigmatic female in a self-moulded genre, Lane speaks from the mind of a woman closer to 35 than 25. Just like a mature-aged maven, she is more than aware of what she has to offer.

“I’ve been through a lot and I’ve been able to write about it, and I’ll continue to do all of that.”

To The Horses is out through Ivy League Records on October 14

New Found Glory: Same Old Story


06 October 2011
by Poppy Reid

Jordan Pundik has made enough money as the frontman of pop punk progenitors, New Found Glory to quietly retire; as he celebrates “happy hour” from his backyard in San Diego, it even seems quite apposite from this end of the phone line. But as Pundik explains, when the band ignited their genre’s torch 14-years ago (when pop punk was still in-vogue), the five-piece made a decision to shy away from ephemeral influences and become immutable, a road destined to portend both criticism and applause.

“When we first started, [pop punk] wasn’t as cool,” says the 32-year-old. “Then it got cool, then it got mainstream and then it went away for a while; but we never went anywhere.”

Neither did their sound for that matter; New Found Glory have just released album number seven and with the onslaught of bands like Blink 182 and Good Charlotte heading up a pop punk resurgence, Radiosurgery has chosen an intelligent time to emerge. Like its predecessors, the album represents a time capsule of the band’s recent existence. Although Pundik is tight-lipped about which band member’s breakup inspired the record this time around, he did compare the album to surgery; an interesting fact in view of guitarist, composer (and boyfriend of Paramore’s Hayley Williams) Chad Gilbert, who underwent a thyroid operation in January last year after a cancer scare.

Radiosurgery is this non-invasive surgery without knives, without actually cutting you open,” he explains. “It’s like the person you can’t get out of your thoughts and it’s just tearing at you like the tumour. The music is sort of the surgery, if that makes sense.”

Much vaunted for their ability to articulate their feelings through risible metaphors, Pundik says writing his emotions down in the form of lyrics is the one and only platform where he feels comfortable.

“I’m not that great with sharing my emotions and confronting things, it’s really hard for me; but I feel like when I have the rawness of music behind me it’s a lot easier to do that.”

Pundik is pragmatic though, he’s actually thankful most of his fans may not completely comprehend the weight of his lyrics. “Even though we might have written a song about my grandfather passing (Sonny) and how much of an influence he was, it could mean something completely different to somebody else,” he says before a long pause. “Sorry where was I? Yeah, they could take that song and start thinking about their fuckin’ goldfish that died.” However, this self-therapy has been known to backfire on the singer at times. “Some people have said, ‘Why you gotta be so fucking angry all the time, huh?!’”

The band may have been condemned for not evolving over the years, but with a steady fanbase that has aged by their side, the unchanging sound has only affirmed their demurral. “They’re just not so much in the front at shows anymore though, they’re at the back hanging out at the bar,” he sniggers.

After almost a decade and a half of adhering to their own formula, the pop punk stalwarts clearly have more smarts and musical integrity than any of their backseat driving critics. “We’re just real guys,” he says, seriously. “I really feel like that’s why people can relate to our band y’know, because we’re a ‘no bullshit’ band. We’re not hiding anything, we wear our hearts on our sleeve.”

After realising how ‘emo’ he was starting to sound he adds, “I should have been a therapist, huh?”

Live Review: Simple Plan

                                                                             Photo credit: Jared Van Earle


04 October 2011
by Poppy Reid

Saturday October 1
Enmore Theatre, Sydney, NSW

Simple Plan fans are an impudent bunch, when Sydney’s Enmore Theatre filled with impatient, panda-eyed zealots sporting the routine side fringe, Converse kicks and even a few rat-tail haircuts, we all knew exactly what we were in for.

One and a half hours later, the crowd departs – shocked, baffled, jubilant, slightly deaf, but wanting to experience it all over again.

The French-Canadian’s Australian tour may have been to promote their punny fourth record, Get Your Heart On but the five-piece wreaked havoc as they not only took us back through over a decade’s worth of pop punk gems but also showed us they hold more sexual frustration than half a Viagra pill.
Opening with the band’s breakout single Shut Up their plaudits screamed mercilessly while their chaperones covered their ears; swiftly followed by latest single Can’t Keep My Hands Off You, only a select few looked disappointed that Weezer’s Rivers Cuomo didn’t make a physical cameo as most in the theatre weren’t even old enough to care who he is.

“I want you to leave here feeling like you are part of the band,” said frontman Pierre Bouvier before Addicted. As guitarist Jeff Stinco sucked on a gobstopper through pelvic thrusts and bassist Dave Desrosiers and rhythm guitarist Sebastian Lefebvre scissor-kicked through an array of different sized punk jumps, it was clear they loved a bit of overplay; Simple Plan were like The Wiggles for tweens – only on heat.


After confessing he thought the Australian accent was hot and kissed his own muscles in jest, Bouvier belted out what should be the band’s next single, You Suck At Love. Their sound has remained unchanged since 1999, and with deafening screams to have their babies, that’s exactly the way the crowd want things to stay. Bouvier dedicated Thank You to their support act’s frontwoman, Jenna McDougall before asking for a circle pit during Your Love Is A Lie, the crowd awkwardly obliged but went straight back into their safe jumps when they thought he wasn’t looking. The sound through this track was terrible with Bouvier changing mics and struggling to hear himself through following tracks Astronaut and Summer Paradise, perhaps in an effort to distract the audience, he stood behind Stinco and simulated pelvic gyrations – most forgot about any sound issues from this point on. Lefebvre helped drummer Chuck Comeau with percussion on a road case for Summer Paradise, and when he was done, rubbed the drumstick on his crotch before throwing it to a screaming tween.
“Who will let me stay at their house?” Bouvier shouted.

Simple Plan then treated us to a mash up of cover tracks from Cee Lo Green to Jason Derulo to Pink before inviting Tonight Alive’s Jenna McDougall onstage to stand in for Natasha Beddingfield for Jet Lag.

Bouvier’s between track banter for final tracks Welcome To My Life, and I’d Do Anything consisted predominantly of him trying his darnedest to get Stinco laid with comments about his sexual health and desperate availability. Desrosiers even revealed he’d “had sex for three hours once.”
Cringing parents exhaled a collective sigh of relief after the four-song encore (Loser Of The Year, I’m Just A Kid, Everytime and Perfect); they led their minors through the doors and prayed they were too innocent to comprehend the plethora of sexual innuendos and blatant titillation that just took place.

Big Day Out 20th anniversary: Through the lens

30 September 2011
by Poppy Reid

Over Tony Mott’s 30-year career in rock ‘n’ roll photography, he has carved himself a meaty slice of Big Day Out history with his archive of trademark images.

2008 -Rage Against The Machine were on at three o’clock in the afternoon and they were at the height of their angst. They just walked onstage and were just all left-wing politics; in the middle of the set, Zack (De La Rocha) stage dived straight into the middle audience, right across the pit and I got a shot of it.”

2004
– “The Flaming Lips - I got crap photos of them, they were a nightmare to photograph, they had the fucking worst lights I’ve ever seen but they were just brilliant onstage.

“They got practically every Big Day Out crew member and all their friends to dress up in animal clothes. Drew Barrymore was knocking up the drummer from The Strokes at the time so I had Who Weekly and everybody hassling me for photos and she said, ‘No I don’t want them’ so I played a trick on them. I told everybody they could have an exclusive and they got it.
She dressed up as a bear every night and danced onstage with the Flaming Lips and was dry humping The Strokes drummer who was dressed as a big rabbit. So I took a photo of a dancing bear and sent it to them. I got some very irate emails after that.”

2001 – “PJ Harvey was coming every single year and never came; she cancelled every time. When she did play she was just mesmerising - this little girl with such charisma, she was just fabulous and dressed fabulous.”

1995 - “The first time Silverchair played they were referred to as Nirvana In Pajamas. Courtney Love was on the road then and the crowd just went fucking off, to say the least. In Sydney there was a guy at the top of a pillar and it was literally swaying and people were just thinking ‘oh god this is going to be the end of Big Day Out, this guy’s gonna fucking die’.”

“They were on the rooftop of all the sheds in Melbourne and on the Gold Coast, the side stage was packed with a thousand people and everyone was there for Silverchair.”

1992
– “The first travelling Big Day Out is easily my favourite and I’ve never topped it. It’s the only Big Day Out where they never had a headliner, Iggy Pop, Nick Cave and Sonic Youth took it in turns. Every single finish they’d jam and do Iggy Pop’s I Wanna Be Your Dog, it was amazing.”



Sophie Howarth has been a staple in Big Day Out pits since the festival’s inception.


2011 – “I was asked by Henry, Iggy Pop’s manager to do a photo shoot for Iggy and The Stooges. My photo appeared on a CD cover this year for Sadistic Summer: Live At The Isle Of Wight.”

2003 – “This is the year I was asked by Big Day Out to be an official photographer. I felt I really earned this position.”

1992 – “I was there but with no camera or film - all in the film of my mind. I remember Nirvana in the Hordern. Hanging off a railing sweltering. The site at the Showground had a grassy, kind of magical Easter Show vibe to it. It was all very relaxed and spontaneous.”

The above photograph is from Sophie Howarth's book Peace, Love and Brown Rice, out now.