FROM STAGE TO SCREEN: HOW DEVO'S BOB 1 & CARTOON NETWORK BECAME COLLABORATORS

Bob Mothersbaugh, or Bob 1 as he’s sensibly known in iconic new-wave band Devo, was on tour with the band when the pitch from Cartoon Network Australia came through.

“We were in Seattle. I was in a hotel room and they sent me a packet about Exchange Student Zero,” says Mothersbaugh. “I read it and I said ‘This, I like this. This could be really good if they do it good.’ I just got that feeling.”

LA-based Mothersbaugh is in Melbourne as he sits down to chat with TMN. Across the table from him in the Park Hyatt lobby is Mark Eyers, Head of Kids Content at Cartoon Network’s Asia Pacific parent Turner. Eyers facilitated the creation of telemovie-turned-TV-series Exchange Student Zero, Cartoon Network’s first Australian-made series. The unconventional media company tapped Mothersbaugh to compose, along with TV and now radio host Rove McManus and Scott Edgar of comedy trio Tripod as two of the voice over artists.

Mothersbaugh’s screen credits, with Mutato Muzika - the production company he runs with brother and bandmate Mark - include films The Lego Movie, Hotel Transylvania, and 21 Jump Street, as well as TV shows including Regular Show, Rug Rats (which he scored for 12 years) and over 3,000 TV commercials.

The entire crew of Exchange Student Zero are in Melbourne for Screen Forever, a conference for screen industry professionals, and today will mark the first time they’ve all been in the same room.

First though, Mothersbaugh and Eyers are discussing how a member of one of the most progressive experimental bands of the late ‘70s came to spend 90% of his time composing for the screen.

As Mothersbaugh explains, Devo had been influenced by imagery long before the release of 1980 touchstone Whip It. In fact, they could very well have invented the ‘music video’ following a week-long visit from a Kent State University friend, who was making TV commercials at the time.

“Devo always had visual ideas when we were writing songs,” says Mothersbaugh. “We probably made the very first music video in 1976. No body was making music videos.” 

The footage shot during Devo’s writing sessions that year became two music videos, which the band played before their sets at club shows. Of course, when MTV burst onto the scene in 1981 and forever changed the worlds of music, film, fashion and technology, the conglomerate was starving for content and played an indulgent amount of Devo in the early years.

It is not so far-fetched that, in an alternate reality, the members of Devo never came to form as a band, and are in fact working as professional visual artists. Mothersbaugh’s brother Mark and Jerry Casale attended art school, while Bob himself had planned to study art at Kent State. Sadly, the infamous shooting at Kent State in May 1970 stopped him: “All the good art teachers left so I decided not to go to college.”

“We kind of think in visuals,” says Mothersbaugh. “On the first album there’s a song Too Much Paranoia that we kind of stole from the McDonald’s commercial with it.”

36 years on from Devo’s first international tour, life couldn’t be any more of an antithesis for Mothersbaugh. The band released their last studio album, Something for Everybody, to critical acclaim in 2010, and since then have been infamously fastidious about the shows they play. According to Mothersbaugh, this has less to do with the band members’ post-heyday occupations, and more to do with a desire to avoid each other.

“My band is very dysfunctional and [there’s] a lot of internal strife, like being in a studio,” he laughs. “I can go on tour with them, I can get a seat on the other end of the plane and not have to sit with them. You only have to be together onstage.”

Early in his screen composing career Mothersbaugh found himself coming full circle - he scored a series of cartoons for McDonald’s in the US.

“There’s also a song that’s on maybe the second album where I was sitting watching a sitcom and there was a bit…” Mothersbaugh begins to hum an ‘80s-style intro. “And I had a guitar in my hands so I started playing it, and it became a song.” 

Naturally, it was Mothersbaugh’s composing work that inspired the pitch to have him score Exchange Student Zero.

“[Mutato Muzika has] done such a huge body of work in the space that we work in,” says Eyers. “We thought there may be some connection there and we actually found out that they did Regular Showwhich has some retro elements in there." 

Based in Hong Kong, Eyers looks worldwide when harnessing resources. Exchange Student Zero may be an Australian-made production, but the weaving of Anime, Western and traditional comedy saw the show’s producers look to global cultures where people are using technologies and creativity in different ways.

“If you can tap into that and bring it back, then you’re truly getting some innovation,” Eyers says. “That’s why we do this,” he smiles. “It’s why we try to go to the end of the earth to get some ideas because we’re always looking for the diamond in the rough.” 

Already a hit in Taiwan as the #1 show on Cartoon Network in the territory, Exchange Student Zerohas been on air in 29 markets in the Asia Pacific region. There’s also plans to take it to North America, Latin America, Europe, the Middle East and Africa. 

One important commendation to be made about the animated film industry is its aptitude for reaching a global audience with the original score intended for each show. Cartoon Network may re-work the dubbing for the 194 markets in which it airs, but one thing that doesn’t change is the global language of music.

“A lot of people forget, only 50% of it is visual, the other 50% is audio,” notes Eyers. “And say maybe half of that is dialogue, the other half is music. That’s got to work and we’ve got to get it right, or the whole thing falls apart. […] But if you get it right, you’re an alchemist. You’ve got gold at the end of it.”

Mothersbaugh’s method is quite visceral. Having never had a guitar lesson, but with noodling chops that have been praised by multiple guitar magazines and early advocate David Bowie, he has an ear for complementing visuals in a way that’s both non-intrusive and universal.

“When I put the show on and I’m going to start to score it, and I watch it, I can hear and feel the music that should be there,” Mothersbaugh explains. “Then my job is just to get that into a computer and make it come out of the speakers like I was hearing it.”

Initial ratings for Exchange Student Zero are already breaking the mould. Normally only shows with no dialogue are able to rate so strongly in both Asia and Australia, however Eyers says the show is “getting really strong numbers in Taiwan, Southeast Asia and really solid numbers in Australia.”

Next year, Cartoon Network will release four more Australian-made animated projects, including a pilot for Monster Beach: The Series. An award-winning telemovie by the same name was released on Halloween 2014 and featured music from Melbourne-based Tripod. It could be said Australia’s animation output will reach a new acme in 2016, and that Exchange Student Zero proved among many things that local ideas can eclipse the success of heavy-hitters when created for the global stage. But more likely it’s a sign that local writers and animators are now aware of Cartoon Network Australia’s open door policy when it comes to ideas. 

PEKING DUK: ASCENDING NEW HEIGHTS

In 2014, Canberra-formed DJ/producer duo Peking Duk signed a major label record deal that would prop them alongside electronic music’s heavyweights and sanction their place in the nexus of Australia’s latest music scene incarnation.

The joint deal with Sony Music and RCA Records didn’t expose Adam Hyde and Reuben Styles to a wider audience - the pair achieved that all on their own; neither did it lay the groundwork for a grand entrance into the global music realm - Peking Duk are multi-Platinum-selling artists whose fanbase is just as feverish on both sides of the North Pacific. 

What the label deal did do however, is give Peking Duk an awareness of their worth; an appreciation the duo hadn’t quite grasped from their insulated end of the music industry.

“We met with all Big Three [major labels] and it was definitely fun and exciting times,” says Styles. “We got basketball tickets and there were loads of general perks having not decided who we would go with.”

It also placed them on the same label as synth-dabbling chart-toppers Mark Ronson, Giorgio Moroder and Sia. Avowed disciples of noise-blanket production and kinetic R&B, Peking Duk may be fused by polarising trend-lines but the niche they’ve carved for themselves has global appeal.

3x Platinum ARIA Award-winning single High charted in the Top 10 Airplay chart in South Africa in 2014, sandwiched between Childish Gambino’s Crawl and Kat Dahlia’s Crazy. The track also placed at #2 on the 2014 triple j Hottest 100, the world’s biggest music poll and the largest public poll in Australia behind the Federal Election.

The duo’s 2x Platinum Take Me Over placed at #5 on the 2014 triple j Hottest 100 and while it hasn’t been serviced to radio outside of Australia and New Zealand, it did feature on the duo’s first ever EP and first international push Songs To Sweat To.

Now that Peking Duk have Platinum records on their shelf and a rolodex of artists and industry figures singing their praises, the duo are surprisingly not impressed with themselves; they’re more confounded.

“Everything we've become has been an entirely fortuitous adventure,” says Styles. “The limelight couldn't have been expected less when we were working at Canberra's Dickson Maccas.

“It's mind-blowing thinking back to when we couldn't use Ableton and our songwriting in general was entirely two dimensional,” he adds. “We found that - whilst working at Maccas - the less bongs we smoked, the better the music got.” 

The instinct to genuflect their success and claim tech disciple status is natural for most artists who aren’t Kanye West. However Peking Duk have undoubtedly cracked America. The band’s 15-date ‘United States of Sweat’ tour in 2015 hit stages at Coachella and Lollapalooza. Triggering an influx of new fans, the pair picked up “about 250” 'PLUR' (Peace Love Unity Respect) bracelets on the way.

“I tip my hat and respect the passion [the US fans] have for the movement; it's nuts,” says Hyde. “They can go to raves with no drugs, no alcohol and get high off the music and dance the night away - it's fucking awesome.”

 Peking Duk at their sold-out Canberra show. Photo Credit: Patrick Stevenson/Hoboincognito

The duo’s tour of US and Canada wrapped up last month, the 22-date run included a sold out concert in Whistler where they added an extra show. As Styles tells TMN, he and Hyde may be US music industry naturals when it comes to their live identities, but in terms of radio publicity, the territory operates in an entirely different manner. 

“It's hard,” he states. “Lot's of stations seem to want something that fits exactly into one genre, i.e. Alternative or Rap or Dance or Pop. Our aim is to never be in any genre category ever, so hopefully radio stops caring so much about where we fit.

“Luckily however, we are in the internet age where unclassified music will surely start to mean more.”

This month Peking Duk kicked off their Australiana Tour, taking in seven local cities, including sold out shows in Melbourne, Sydney and Canberra, and a stop in Adelaide where they headlined the Clipsal 500 and performed to a crowd of 3,500.

                      Photo Credit: Patrick Stevenson/Hoboincognito

Peking Duk’s Manager Ben Dennis knows all too well how exacting a multi-country tour with high energy artists can be. Peking Duk might be performing and sleeping in a castle in Vietnam one night and performing on a cruise ship somewhere between Singapore and Langkawi the next. Naturally, Dennis has his own management tools to keep schedules streamlined from one country to the next.

“When it comes to booking in travel we use The Appointment Group (TAG) via our booking agents Vita Artists,” says Dennis. “For itineraries we have found using a basic iCal itinerary for the Peking Duk guy's works best.

“There’s a lot of time saved having a representative at TAG work out the best routes, times and prices,” he adds. “The fact we don't have to enter traveller details multiple times ourselves is a life saver too - especially when travelling with a crew of more than people sometimes. TAG are problem solvers for us - If a flight gets cancelled they will have the next best alternative and a direct line to the right people at the airline.” 

Much of the blueprint for each tour centres around Peking Duk’s on and offstage party antics: energetic, uncaged, theatrical and gutter-mouthed. However, when it comes to Peking Duk’s motherland, the pair can get quite emotional.

On their recent dates Peking Duk waxed political, starting a 'Fuck Mike Baird' chant and making headlines in the process. The strike out at the Premier of New South Wales follows the duo’s publicised protest against Sydney’s crippling lockout laws. The laws which were introduced in March 2014 have had a detrimental effect on the city’s nightlife; APRA reported a 40% drop in door charges, meaning less people are paying to see live music, and high-profile venues, including Hugos, Goodgod Small Club and the Flinders Hotel have closed their doors permanently.

“Sydney is our home and I personally, would love to live here forever,” says Styles. “If however these lockout laws stay put we will have to get out […] The culture has died so significantly over the last two years since these laws were introduced - it's ridiculous.”

Peking Duk's Enmore Theatre show in Sydney. Photo Credit: Patrick Stevenson/Hoboincognito

Despite being signed to RCA and Sony Music for over a year now, the agreement with the major will truly kick off this year as they ready the release of a new album. 

“We’re looking forward to seeing what will come of this partnership with Sony,” says Styles. “They're all enthusiastic, excited people that love music - which is perfect.”

In true Peking Duk form, we can expect the kind structural complexity and experience-driven cycles that have set trends in the past. Styles and Hyde are continually adding to their own universe; its atoms just happen to be crowd-pleasing anthems.

“We try not to create music that falls in to a trend box,” adds Hyde. “We don't do that on purpose, we just feel there's no real longevity with following trends. We're looking forward to sharing the album as that has a shite load of different flavours that everyone can get jiggy with.”

Josh Pyke: Leeward

by Poppy Reid

“It’s disappointing, I try to make myself not care about chart positions and stuff like that, but I think, you know - I was really keen to try and have all top five albums.”

Earlier this month Josh Pyke’s streak of Top 4 ARIA Chart positions was tainted by Australian retailer giant JB Hi-Fi. An admin error left his fourth LP The Beginning and the End of Everything in a warehouse for almost three days after its intended release. Later he told TMN the screw-up was “like your worst nightmare” - but one could never accuse Pyke of being precious. The Sydney artist wore a brave face during his promo rounds that day as a barrage of messages from confused fans choked his social media feeds and press baited him with pointed questions about his accolades.

For Pyke, it was a conscious fight to push his successes to the wayside while writing his latest opus - even from the humble surroundings of his garage-come-studio in Newtown.

“The minute you start focusing on that stuff in the writing process, I think you’re up against a losing battle […] If I start thinking ‘well I’ve got to write in a particular way so that it will be successful and debut in the top five,’ or whatever, I’d second guess myself and I think I’d screw it up.”

Unsurprisingly, Pyke is much more than the sum of his parts. Three records on the pointy end of the ARIA Chart, numerous award wins, Triple J Hottest 100 nods and sell-out shows were never on his list of goals when he took cues from Chris Cornell at inner-west school, Fort Street High and started writing in drop D.

“I just wanted to make records and maybe be able to quit my job at the record store [Fish Records in Balmain]. I want to stay true to my creative integrity,” says the 35-year-old. “Otherwise I feel like an artist should just get any old job that doesn’t require as much passion and life-force – for lack of a better word – that making music does.”

In the thirteen years that Pyke has been releasing records, his creative and moral stance have subscribed to the same calm, friendly disposition found in 2007 debut Memories & Dust. The release, like the five EPs before it were unassuming and candidly generous. Pyke is constantly dumbfounded by his own merits; when Middle Of The Hill - the first single from his Feeding The Wolves EP - was voted #19 on the Triple J Hottest 100 in 2005, Pyke resolved not to interpret success. “[Middle Of The Hill] was a pretty unlikely single, and yet that’s the one that broke me.

“The reality with success is you never know what’s going to be successful anyway, so you may as well make art that you actually love and can stand by for thirty years and that you wrote with integrity.”

The fact Pyke holds artistic credibility so high on his inner list of ethics will come as no surprise to anyone who’s ever crossed his path. A self-described “homebody who has to travel a lot”, Pyke’s vivid intent on growing Australian artists has prompted a slew of nation-wide charity events and projects. The most recent saw his Josh Pyke Partnership initiative team with APRA to mentor and financially kick start the career of unsigned musician GOVS. Ostensibly, part of his philanthropy stems from a seasoned career learning to graciously dodge industry pitfalls.

“You’ve just got to play your own game you know, you have to figure out your set of morals and whatever you consider to be your core of integrity - and you’ve just got to stick to your guns. Because over the course of your career and in interviews, things get brought up and decisions have to be made and if you’re making decisions with humility and integrity then you can’t go wrong.

“It might mean that you’ll be less successful than you could have been if you’d decided to write a song with a pop songwriter, and tried to get a top ten single or whatever, which is fine for some people, but it’s not my vibe.”

Pyke says The Beginning and the End of Everything was written “after an intense process of self analysis.” First-time fatherhood percolates each of the eleven tracks, anchoring the harmonies and intertextualising the stories with wide-eyed stir and fear. The record debuted at #7, quashing his top five run, but the idea of Pyke dwelling on anything for too long doesn’t fit his centered convictions, especially when he has a more important creation to rejoice.

“Realising that what I do for a living affects another human being - that I’ve just created - but not only that, realising that this is how I’m actually going to provide for my family. The fact that I was making a living and paying rent and going on holidays, now it’s an actual thing where I have to provide for a family. All those things fed into the creative process and how I was perceiving the creative process. Those things are much more personal intense experiences than I’ve ever had in my life before.”

Pierce The Veil: Accidental heroes

by Poppy Reid

Vic Fuentes is an accidental scene hero with a well-documented past: he’s soundtracked the beat of broken hearts and practically written his own autobiography over three albums. Along with his band Pierce The Veil, he’s also an advocate for bullying awareness and an ambassador for the Keep A Breast foundation. TMN sat down with the beleaguered frontman and bassist/vocalist Jaime (pronounce hai-me) Preciado at Sydney’s Sebel Hotel to talk about their ascent within post-hardcore and the genre-rewrite that’s leading the charge.

“Have you ever got a text from somebody, somebody that you care about and it’s like, ‘Last night was insane, I blacked out, I got kicked out of our hotel, I lost my shoes - it was crazy’."

Fuentes is talking us through I’m Low on Gas and You Need a Jacket, the fast-paced song from latest album Collide With The Sky (2012) that uses as many Spanish chord progressions as it does personal experience.

“It’s someone you care about so you’re like, ‘Ah, that’s not cool, that makes me really scared for you’… I can’t be with a person that’s like that.”

Unsurprisingly, it’s these accessible tales mixed in with his paternal Mexican influence and intricate breakdowns that have fans obsessing. In the city for three days during Soundwave Festival, Pierce The Veil can’t leave the hotel without bombardment. As this interview takes place, a flock of five teenage girls stalk the outside steps of The Sebel, and three rainbow-haired, panda-eyed minors have quietly made themselves at home near the refreshments, because obviously being in the band’s periphery trounces education.

“It’s strange when they’re at the airport,” says Preciado, unconcerned with the three girls. “Because in San Diego there’s security, but here you can just go in.”

“I don’t know what you look like when you get off an airplane,” smiles Fuentes before stretching his hair out sideways, “I look like an insane person. They’re like ‘is it him? He looks like 80-years-old!’”

Having formed in San Diego in 2006, Pierce The Veil, like most U.S. bands, spent their green years performing the myriad club venues across America. Sleeping in hired vans and on floors, all for a ride on the coattails of their comrades on a slightly bigger label deal. However, the slot with Soundwave opened doors to South East Asia where the band toured just before making their way to Australia last month.

“It was definitely crazy to think we’d never even been to some of those countries,” says Preciado. “To have a whole heap of kids show up out of nowhere. We were like, ‘Who are they waiting for? Oh wait, we’re the last band.'"

“It was almost like a rite of passage,” adds Fuentes, “covering another step in our musical career.”

Despite the fact the conversation is suffused with wide-eyed modesty, Pierce The Veil harbour an irrepressible belief in themselves; a ballsy gumption sprints through each intoxicating riff. America has cottoned on to the hype, having siphoned the crowd-drawers to headline the annual (and highly bucket-listed) Vans Warped Tour this year.

“When you’re a kid,” smiles Fuentes, “the headlining mainstage guys, that’s what you looked up to. Those are the guys we thought were the biggest bands in the world, and now that we’re in that position, it’s, ah…”

“It kind of clicks,” finishes Preciado. “All the work we’ve done over the last however many years, it’s great.”

The four members of Pierce The Veil have an enviable support system in their families. For parents raised in an era where heavy music fell in line with the names Rush, Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin, the brutality of post-hardcore can be confronting. For the first two years, Preciado’s parents dismissed his position in the band as something he would outgrow.

“They were like, ‘Get a real job, let’s get your life going’,” he recalls. “Then she saw us in a magazine she picked up at the store and she was like, ‘That’s my son!’

“Sometimes when we play our hometown shows she’ll get me off the bus and say, ‘Go sign for those kids,” Preciado claps his hands in imitation. “Let’s go!’”

Sideline parents aren’t the only difference for a band who are oft pigeon-holed into the post-hardcore genre; one minute Fuentes will be acknowledging other acts on the bill using profane embellishment before each tip of the hat, the next, he’ll be watching footage from the same show on YouTube at his father’s request.

The band have always taken the road less traveled, lyrics so descriptive they read like diary entries, but Pierce The Veil aren’t a band who are open to interpretation. While Fuentes sees no choice but to open his heart and bleed into each recording, that’s where it stops for some of his more personal omissions - One Hundred Sleepless Nights is one track he has never sung live.

“That’s probably the most personal song I’ve ever written,” he says quietly, eyes to the floor. “I can barely listen to it on CD because of the way things are between me and her.”

With a little push, Fuentes elaborates: “She had a baby with another guy and that solidified the fact that we probably won’t be together. She’s trying to make it work with that guy and it’s just a really confusing and hard situation.

“She thought it was the best song on the album,” he laughs. “There were mixed feelings, there was a little bit of anger, and I understand.”

Following this interview, Pierce The Veil will perform to a sold out Hi-Fi in support of U.K. metalcore band Bring Me The Horizon. Fuentes will invite our own Jenna McDougall of Tonight Alive onstage to guest on new track Hold On Til May (the Sydney band toured the U.S. with PTV), but Fuentes won’t let the ties stop there. As he tells TMN, he wants 21-year-old McDougall to guest on the band’s next record. “She’s such a great person, she’s so nice. We just got along well so I’m going to try and write something.”

People horde together by their passions and while straegised collaborations are now the norm to keep chart toppers on top, Pierce The Veil are one band who let their art manifest organically.

“I don’t sing on records for people that I don’t know,” says Fuentes. “I’ve been asked to sing on a lot of random records and I don’t want to do them.

“We try to keep it bands that we really respect both as people and as musicians. So whenever you hear something that we’ve done with somebody else it’s not just on a whim, it’s always very well thought out and meaningful.”

It's hard to imagine today just how important this band is; but whether they go on to make multi-Platinum records or sell out arenas isn't how we should measure it.

Album Review: Bring Me The Horizon, Sempiternal

by Poppy Reid

Bring Me The Horizon are a reliable bunch, never straying too far from their well-defined aesthetic. Since bursting into emergence with 2006’s Count Your Blessings, the British quintet have shifted between invective deathcore and the kind of melodic hardcore best exemplified on career highlight - 2010’s verbosely titled ARIA #1 - There Is A Hell, Believe Me I've Seen It. There Is A Heaven, Let's Keep It A Secret. Now onto album number four, Sempiternal sees frontman Oli Sykes and his thick Sheffield grit harnessing past influences while recklessly taking on new ones. If you thought There Is A Hell… was risk-splattered and genre-crossing, then nothing will prepare you for this.

Sempiternal is BMTH’s first on a major label, but RCA Records (flagship of Sony Music) have been gracious in their takeover from Visible Noise; the back-step in creative control has been left to a faint whisper on tracks like video game salute Shadow Moses and the nihilistic Anti-vist. Elsewhere, second single Sleepwalking sounds like major label placation, it’s brilliant but also their most accessible. The sounds and piano-driven rhythms are beguiling enough to be satisfying in their own right, the addition of vocals and precursory monologues (Hospital For Souls) only build on what is already a cascading soundtrack to your favourite art house film.

The record may have been produced by Terry Date (Deftones, Limp Bizkit, Pantera), but the renewed sound is stamped with the fingerprints of keyboardist and ambience mastermind Jordan Fish (formerly of the band Worship). BMTH gave a cutting farewell to Australian member Jona Weinhofen last year before re-recording his guitar parts and announcing Fish as a permanent member. His addition, and the different approach to recording – predecessors were helmed in isolated locations while Sempiternal was predominantly written on Syke’s laptop and recorded at Angelic Studio in Oxfordshire – stepped the band further into electro territory. BMTH deserve plaudits for taking as many risks as they have.

Lyrically, it’s Sykes most apologetic yet, Sempiternal brims with the stabbing pang of regret and self-reflection, understanding, and a promise to make good, all set to some of his most persuasive aural collages.

The fact this record leaked online forcing the band to stream it and bring forward the release date is not only a testament to their worth, but proof this band could very well stand at the pointy end of the charts once more. The metalcore underground’s loss is mainstream’s gain.

Sempiternal is out March 29 through Sony Music Entertainment

Live Review: Rodriguez, Sydney

by Poppy Reid

Tuesday, March 19Enmore Theatre, Sydney

Almost seven months ago, a documentary was released which told the incredible story of Sixto Diaz Rodriguez, an iconic ‘70s American enigma. And even now that he is found, even before a sold-out crowd at Sydney’s Enmore Theatre last night, Rodriguez remains a mystery.

There was a sense of ownership of the now 70-year-old musician from those new to the gate. Perhaps many weren’t aware that these Bluesfest sideshows (two more of which will see him return to The Enmore) weren’t just on the back of Searching For Sugar Man – Rodriguez sold out his last Australian jaunt with the festival in 2010. Regardless, his unlikely story created a mass support system in the crowd, the new knowledge affixing eyes as if to remember the entire set to call upon and replay later.

Supported and backed by The Break: the three founding members of Midnight Oil, Rob Hirst, Martin Rotsey and Jim Moginie as well as Brian Ritchie, of Violent Femmes, and Jack Howard from Hunters and Collectors, Rodriguez was in good hands – for the most part.

Helped onstage by two people, Rodriguez was jittery as he put on his black hat and sunglasses. Despite his smooth, articulate tone, off-the-bat charm and the fact he ran over the chords before each track, it wasn’t until four songs in, when he covered Cole Porter’s Just One Of Those Things that he seemed to loosen up; he played his guitar like a piano, softly caressing the strings.

Removing his jacket and showing off the fruits of his hard labour years, Rodriguez covered Lou Rawls’ Dead End Street before crowd sing-along, Sugar Man. Performing most tracks slower than on record did keep The Break on their toes, but it made for a fascinating and unpredictable set. Timing is irrelevant when you have before you a man who can lift you above your pedestrian routine with his performance poetry and peerless charm.

The expected scent of marijuana hovered above and Rodriguez said, “Sugar Man is a descriptive song, not a prescriptive song. Get your hugs, stay off drugs. Stay smart, don’t start.” He then went on to tell us two of the three U.S. states that have legalised marijuana. “Or have I said too much?”

Between tracks like I Wonder, Like Janis and …The Establishment Blues, Sydney felt it embarrassingly necessary to offer their two cents. Through marriage proposals (from either gender), declarations of love and a few offers to ’party’ with him, Rodriguez was ever the gentleman. “Thanks mate… I know it’s the drinks, but I love you back.”

Closing with Forget It, the track he was rumoured to have killed himself onstage after singing, the very much alive and very much relevant troubadour removed his hat to bow with his band. Returning for two covers, Bob Dylan’s Like A Rolling Stone and his homage to Hirst, Rotsey and Moginie: Midnight Oil’s Redneck Wonderland, Rodriguez was clearly in his element. Here was a man who had been jibbed by his record company and lived a modest life of hard labour in Michigan before he was dragged into the spotlight in his late 50s by two zealous South African fans. Now touring the world with his intelligent, warm voice and fascinating tale, it’s unfathomable to imagine Rodriguez - with the insight gained from his philosophy degree and his political conviction - anywhere else but under the hot stage lights.

Live Review: Azealia Banks, Sydney

                                                                         Photo Credit: Jacquie Manning

by Poppy Reid

Wednesday March 6
Enmore Theatre, Sydney, NSW

When a 20-year-old Azealia Banks released 212, the foul-mouthed Harlem rapper preempted her multiple Twitter beefs and ensuing diss-tracks with young female rappers vying for the crown. And when an artist like Miss Bank$ (self-awarded moniker, not ours) holds hip hop over a barrel of glow sticks and fuzzy leg warmers, it’s bound turn up noses. But judging by the sold-out crowd of twerkers at Sydney’s Enmore Theatre last night, her genre-mixing and extolling of profanity is something the more ‘safe’ female rappers have been missing.

Taking the stage half an hour late in a flashing light-up bra and cut-off denim shorts - opened low enough to form a downward ‘V’ pointed at the namesake which first shocked our mothers – Banks and her touring DJ Cosmo Baker opened with the Fantasea Mixtape’s lead track Out of Space.

Unlike her last Australian performance with Splendour In The Grass, where she performed a lackluster 25-minute set, the crowd weren’t contemplating their navel during any track other than 212. This predominantly white, predominantly left-footed and out-of-time crowd, were familiar with her scattered discography.

:: VIEW OUR LIVE GALLERY FROM THE NIGHT

In tracks like her teenage opus Jumanji and Van Vogue from her EP 1991, Banks may not have been as enticing as her music videos convey – her diminutive figure opted for foot-stamps over whine gyrations - but her two backup dancers, Elayna aka E-Money and Matthew Pasterisa, were distracting enough.

What was lovely, and genuine, and contradictory to the character who spits rhymes like “open your face and let a bitch squat” and "I supply what your girlfriend can't provide that tight grip twat I got that slip and slide," was Banks’ constant resolve to pick up every gift that was thrown onstage to take home.

Closing with her breakout 212, Banks tipped her hat to fellow Future Music artist Prodigy with her own mix of Firestarter. Up against young women like Angel Haze, Iggy Azalea, Kreayshawn and yes, even Nicki Minaj, Banks holds her own, but not because of her live performance, she'll conquer that in time, it’s her undeniable ability to make her dirty thoughts delightful. Perhaps it’s her size, or the wide smile she offers when rapping the word ‘cunt’ for the 60^th time; the reason is irrelevant when even the most feminist prude is beguiled.