Thursday

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.


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 60th time; the reason is irrelevant when even the most feminist prude is beguiled.

Live Review: Bring Me The Horizon, Pierce The Veil, The Chariot


by Poppy Reid

Tuesday February 27
Hi-Fi, Sydney, NSW
 
When Soundwave Touring chose to put The Chariot, Pierce The Veil and Bring Me The Horizon in one room, they would be arrogant not to anticipate anarchy.

But while promoter AJ Maddah has been accused of such over numerous times in recent memory, he had anticipated, and prepared for the damage that was to come.

For anyone unfamiliar with Georgian hardcore band The Chariot, frontman Josh Scogin left Norma Jean shortly after their first and seminal album Bless the Martyr and Kiss the Child, and while he’s still heavily Christian, the band’s live show sidles as close to danger as much as atheism sidles next to science.

As the band began throwing their drumkit into the crowd, preparing for their trademark drum solo finish from the pit, promoters swiftly closed the curtains, turned on the house lights and hit the play button on the background music. Sad? Yes. Understandable? Yes.

“We’re a bunch of Mexicans from San Diego, California,” introduced pint-sized Pierce The Veil frontman Vic Fuentes. “You guys like Mexican food right?”

Performing a healthy mix of their last three offerings, the four-piece looked as stunned by the turnout and verbatim recital of lyrics as we were by the immaculate delivery.

Tracks like Bulletproof Love and Hold On Till May, which he dedicated to his older brother Frank – “I just found out a week or so ago that he beat cancer” – were sung in duet with the crowd. While Kellin Quinn (Sleeping With Sirens) and Jeremy McKinnon (A Day To Remember) didn’t make it onstage for their guest cameos in respective tracks King For A Day and Caraphernelia, Jenna McDougall from our own Tonight Alive leant her vocals to Hold On Till May, before slapping bassist/vocalist Jaime Preciado on the arse.

After the widely publicised departure of Adelaide guitarist Jona Weinhofen and the hiring of keyboardist/programmer Jordan Fish, a lot was riding on Bring Me The Horizon’s Soundwave stint. But for anyone who has tasted new material from upcoming album Sempiternal, there really was never any need to place the Sheffield band’s skill on the shoulders of one member.

Without the use of a backing track, the five-piece seared our clammy faces with double opener Shadow Moses and Chelsea Smile. Frontman Olly Sykes was utterly obscene and in his thick Yorkshire accent – between meaty saliva projections – requested circle pits, a hand job and for us to scream his parts because he was “shagged.”

“Are you ready to punch someone in the fucking ovaries?” he yelled before Alligator Blood.
“I still want that hand job,” he said later.

Pierce The Veil’s Vic Fuentes made one last appearance for Sadness Will Never End and during Fuck, the track audibly about “sexual intercourse,” the bad proved they’d grown a lot – despite tracks names - since their last visit with Soundwave in 2011.

Live Review: Soundwave Festival 2013

                                                                              Photo credit: Ken Leanfore

by Poppy Reid

Sunday February 24
Olympic Park, Sydney, NSW


As the sound of guitars and distortion merged between stages and the hot steam rose of the thousands of heads at Olympic Park yesterday, it was easy to forget the plethora of surrounding blemishes in both the lead-up and the day of Soundwave Sydney 2013.

To all the detractors and naysayers who blame Soundwave Touring for the drummers who pulled out or didn’t make it, for the floods that forced Garbage off the bill and changed set times, or even for the security who let people hiding flares in their bags into the grounds - condemning promoters who put Metallica, Linkin Park, Blink 182 and A Perfect Circle all on the one tour only makes you a part of the problem.

Here’s a few reasons why TMN found the tenth edition of Soundwave the best yet.

Periphery
In 2011, the Washington D.C. band performed in a living room, with kids stretching back so far as… the kitchen. House shows may be common in the U.S. but here’s a band who wouldn’t change their energy with their surroundings. Frontman Spencer Sotelo was the antithesis of cool, his blue-mirrored sunglasses and dopey dancing were equally matched by his fans, some of whom were gathering bark and throwing it into the air.
 
The Wonder Years
For fans of twee, short beards, pop punk, the eponymous, early ‘90s television show and universal acceptance, you can’t go past The Wonder Years. Performing tracks like Summers in PA, Living Room Song and Came Out Swinging, the band had their modest crowd singing and hugging in the rain; a sight apparently so adorable that frontman Dan Campbell needed to grab his iPhone and capture it – for his mum.

Billy Talent
Canada’s most flamboyant punk rock band last toured with the festival in 2010 and now with an extra album up their fans sleeves (2012’s Dead Silence), Billy Talent were as on point as ever. Tracks like Fallen Leaves and Devil On My Shoulder sounded as crisp and trained as they did on their respective records. This was made more astounding by the fact Billy Talent were one of the few bands on the bill to have their gear stuck in flooded trucks, they, along with Sum 41 and Flogging Molly were forced to hire all new gear for the day.

Sleeping With Sirens
Hearing the Florida band wax lyrical about unrequited love and broken hearts, mixed with frontman Kellin Quin’s seraphic vocals should have been enough for fans at Stage 3,; unfortunately the last few tracks were shadowed with crowd members throwing Coke and water bottles onstage. “We want you guys to song along,” said Quin. “In between throwing.” Finally Quinn’s beat boxing in Roger Rabbit (from 2012 EP If You Were a Movie, This Would Be Your Soundtrack) the track he dedicated to “all the pretty Australian girls,” calmed their throwing arms.

Sum 41
Pop punk mainstays Sum 41 knew exactly what a festival set was about: All killer no filler (pun intended). The Canadian band performed well-known tracks like In Too Deep, Fat Lip, Still Waiting and thankfully little from 2011’s Screaming Bloody Murder. Pint-sized frontman Deryck Whibley honed Johnny Rotten with his leather vest and bright red hair, but unlike the Sex Pistol, he invited a few of his zealots out from the heaving mosh onstage. The cover of Queen’s We Will Rock You was more awful than awesome but was a testament to the band’s modus operandi of getting their crowd to make waves.


Slayer
Slayer win the award for Best Shameless Self Promotion. A few bands on the bill sported their own logos but each member of the thrash metal legends donned their merchandise; utterly understandable considering the current 360 deals artists are signed on to.

With the recent firing of drummer Dave Lombardo, the good men over at Anthrax leant their own fill-in Jon Dette to the band. Slayer are renowned as one of the leaders in their genre, a rookie drummer couldn’t have even stunted the performance; thankfully Slayer’s level of tension and demonic demeanor mastered every faster-than-fuck riff with ferocious charm.

Linkin Park
A meticulous setlist, smooth sound and more heart than any other act we caught, Linkin Park were the standout performance of the day. Taking us through their weighty back catalogue with tracks like Somewhere I Belong, Waiting For The End, Breaking The Habit and One Step Closer, the band didn’t treat us like another leg of a festival stint, it was as if we’d all spent our hard-earned money on The Living Things Tour. Chester Bennington halted the set at one point after someone caught his eye in the crowd.

“Somebody's fucked up down here,” he said. The band anxiously waited until the fan gave them a peace sign before moving on.

The band were also the chosen slot to reveal the comeback of the Australian Vans Warped Tour. Revealed on the side screens, the skate-punk institution will grace our shores this December.

Metallica
As a headliner, there are a few responsibilities you must endeavor to adhere to. Your lights must not be outshone, your sound must trump your predecessors, your back screen footage should take your crowd on a journey, and your setlist should be lengthy and all encompassing. If it weren’t for the dingus who endangered the crowd and the band Bring Me The Horizon with his slippery fingers and a flare, Metallica would have knocked this one out of ANZ Stadium.


Opening with The Ecstasy of Gold and Hit The Lights, complete with backing film from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, Metallica wasted no time cementing their place as the Kings Of Metal.
“Do you feel good?” yelled James Hetfield. “I feel fucking great let’s see if we can make it better!”
For a two-hour set, the furious four knew how to make time fly. The ‘Metallica family’ united and refrained from whining when they played one new track. “See that wasn't so bad,” laughed Hetfield after Broken, Beat & Scarred. The band performed a rousing instrumental tribute to late bass player Cliff Burton and honoured current bassist Robert Trujillo who marked his tenth anniversary with the band this year.

Metallica kept their audience in pieces and their legend in tact. To end a Soundwave Festival with such a behemoth act discounted the fault-finders and confirmed the live juggernaut’s place as Australia’s biggest live music event.

Live Review: Blink-182, Sydney


by Poppy Reid

Wednesday February 20
Allphones Arena, Sydney, NSW

The rise, breakdown and inevitable reprise of Blink-182 has been a steady one. Their first few albums were a 'must own' for anyone who even feigned an interest in NOFX or the pop punk genre, and their comeback album Neighbourhoods was skillfully deconstructed by music journalisms' elite in 2011. 

Now, in their 21st year together (if you don't count the five-year breather) the band are still a formidable juggernaut and back in Australia for the first time since 2004. Last night's sold out show at Sydney’s Allphones Arena will be followed by another sold-out concert in Brisbane before the nationally exhausted Soundwave Festival kicks off this Saturday.

When they took the stage with fill-in drummer Brooks Wackerman, the disappointment in Travis barker's absence was obvious. But noone was insensitive enough to mention the missing tripod leg, he had a pretty rad reason for not getting on the plane three days ago. Any bitter despondency was spat out as soon as Wackerman sat down, his fervent skills honed with bands like Bad Religion, Suicidal Tendencies and Infectious Grooves meant Blink percussion already swam through his veins.

The 26-track set borrowed predominantly from the trio’s last two records, however tracks from Dude Ranch and Enema Of The State were met with the most avid response. Fans were tested with the 35-second song Family Reunion from their 2000 live album and Dogs Eating Dogs, Boxing Day and Disaster from last year’s EP Dog’s Eating Dogs - the last of which was preceded with Mark Hoppus claiming Tom DeLonge’s mother was “a whore, a dirty fucking whore.

Those who caught DeLonge last year with Angels and Airwaves were relieved to see he hadn’t lost his toilet humour.

Here’s some highlights of Tom’s between-track banter:
“I think my underpants are going into my scrotum.
“What's a devil damn? Is that like a clitoris condom?”
“I've gone from dick jokes to fart jokes, you guys gotta grow up. You laugh at all that dumb shit.”
“That smelt like meatballs.” Said after he picked up a gifted bra from the stage.

What was abundantly apparent though, was the band’s underlying professionalism; beneath all the fuck, shit and dick slurs was a genuine desire to offer a pop punk show that stirred nostalgia and reckless abandon.

Closing with a two-part encore, Hoppus, DeLonge and Wackerman gathered at the front of the stage for acoustic versions of Reckless Abandon, All Of This and Boxing Day. If they had ended on that note, there may have been a riot; thankfully they switched back to the comfort of electric for Carousel, Dammit and Family Reunion. The white confetti fell, DeLonge and Wackerman left the stage but in true Blink style, Hoppus had the last laugh.

“Are you ready for the big finish?” he yelled. Down on bended knee he built the tension before a single, slightly off-tune strum of his bass.

Live Review: Converge, Sydney


by Poppy Reid

Saturday February 16
Manning Bar, Sydney, NSW

Returning to the same haunt they annihilated in 2010, Massachusetts band Converge reiterated their strong position on Saturday night as one of the most progressive bands in the hardcore genre.
Satiating fans at the Manning Bar with a predominantly ‘favourites’ filled set – No heroes, All We Love We Leave Behind, Dark Horse and Axe To Fall - singer Jacob Bannon let his gravelly voice take over, his movements and the crowd controlled by an inner vice of his own making.

“It's fucking awesome to be this far from home and see so many people come out to hear the noise that we're making,” he said, spreading his fingers tight and wide.

Having set the gratuitous tone for the evening, Bannon, Viking-sized guitarist/producer Kurt Ballou, bassist Nate Newton (who had just performed a full set minutes earlier with Old Man Doom) and manic stickman Ben Koller seared into a show that was as much about their zealots as it was about cementing their place on the pedestal they’d made home.

“It's like fucking playing to convicts,” laughed Bannon when the crowd endeavoured to dictate the setlist. As the fervent heat of final track The Broken Vow - from fourth record Jane Doe - sunk into the skin of his criminal followers it was clear they’d start a riot if he so wanted one. But that would never cross his mind; the nihilistic qualities of their songs and performances are equally met with as much passion for humanity and the hope for the ones who inspired even their most heart-bleeding lyric.

“What? Why are you so angry?,” he laughed. “Who didn't hug you?”

“This song’s about love. Last Light.”

Straight into the encore, the track was as bloody as it was soulful; Bannon pounded his fist to his head as lyrics like “I need you to be the might of their first kiss,” pounded through ours.

The crowd cheered for minutes after the final note, letting the house lights dry their sweat. Koller walked to the front of the stage to throw his sticks, shake hands and scold security.

“Hey security there's no need to punch kid in the fucking stomach,” he bellowed into Newton’s mic. “Don't do that.”

Converge are well aware of just who they are, and at this point in their career - 23 years in with album #8 forcing fans to bow down even further, noses to the dirt - they're still pushing the envelope, offering a more crisp intention of past distinctions.

Live Review: Of Monsters And Men, Sydney


by Poppy Reid

Tuesday January 30
The Metro Theatre, Sydney, NSW

Of Monsters And Men were always going to chart highly on Triple J’s Hottest 100 list. The Icelandic indie-folk band sold out their promo tour of Australia last July, saw their breakout track Little Talks spend two weeks at #7 on the ARIA chart, and sold out last night’s Metro Theatre gig long before the song shone brightly as Triple J’s #2 on the annual list.

But as the six-piece (and their one touring member) spent an hour-and-a-half transporting the crowd inside the fables of their songs, most were curiously quiet for the tracks that weren’t Little Talks or more recent single Mountain Sound.

It could be put down to the fact Australians are spoilt when it comes to live music; catching an overseas act on a school night has become part of our week and committing full albums to memory, or even buying full albums for that matter, hasn’t been the norm for years.


That said, co-singers/guitarists Nanna Bryndís Hilmarsdóttir and Ragnar ‘Raggi’ Þórhallsson have lead a notable transformation over just two years; what started as an acoustic solo act's project to tell stories is now a famed addition to most mainstream playlists and forever sandwiched between Macklemore (#1) and Alt-J (#3).

During tracks like Love Love Love and King and Lionheart - the song which tells of a world where Hilmarsdóttir and her Canada-residing brother can be together - barefoot touring member Ragnhildur Gunnarsdóttir exhibited her chops on trumpet, accordion and keyboard. While the band’s stripped back version of Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Skeletons could have been taken straight from their debut album; the harmony between Þórhallsson and Hilmarsdóttir is an indelible force. But the most beautiful expression from this collective of gypsies was in final track Six Weeks, OMAM loosened their collars and lost themselves in the percussion and swaying of their zealots in a spirit that seemed suppressed beforehand.

From winning an annual battle of the bands competition in Iceland to selling out venues more than 15,000 kilometres from home, Of Monsters And Men have inadvertently opened hearts to the art of storytelling and proven that sometimes a meteoric rise to global consciousness is best proffered to the faintest, most unassuming voice on the chart.

Album Review: Bad Religion, True North


by Poppy Reid

Bad Religion have lived and recorded through five U.S. administrations, and the now fifty-something-year-olds are still waxing lyrical about political injustices and socialism without an assumed tired reiteration.
 
Albeit, a meaty 16-strong tracklist can be off-putting, but when you’re only just getting warmed up and you’re three songs in on the 35-minute ride, it’s clear the band aren’t resting on their laurels. Interestingly, they’ve taken cues from Tom Waits for album #16; naming the record after Waits' Bad As Me single True North and mapping it on the indelible artist’s plans to write a record of two and three-minute songs. Some tracks are as short as 1:02 (Vanity), the longest track falls just shy of four minutes (Hello Cruel World), and each is a feverish bombast of past grievances (and some new re: the Occupy movement), except there’s a difference: this time they’ve taken a playful stance to their delivery.

In tracks like True North, the band show they’re still gusty but without the grit, the gorgeous harmonies are a welcome surprise from the punk rock magnates. In album highlight Robin Hood In Reverse, vocalist Greg Graffin is less lecturing and more story-telling, and the fast-paced, rap-rock of Land Of Endless Greed marks the record’s swindler – pure enjoyment overrides the message of America’s shame and a disgust in humanity. Bad Religion have fun with this record, the ethical standpoints, pointed warnings and altruistic relevance are all there, but it’s a step-up from a list of objections doused in aggressive percussion; this time it's a play on everything: genres, double entendres and Graffin’s vocal melisma.

While nothing can top Suffer and Stranger Than Fiction, it’s easy to forget Graffin has been offering his two-cents on U.S. government since he was fifteen, and co-founding member/Epitaph Records owner Brett Gurewitz since he was just seventeen. Presidents, policies and opinions have changed but Bad Religion have owned a sense of immediacy for 34 years.

Although political punk has taken the back burner since the everlasting ascent of bubblegum punk - whose leaders top alternative charts and sing about girls and disowning their parents - as long as bands like Bad Religion exist, those in their formative years may toy with the idea of insurrection and vigilantism, which is infinitely more interesting than floppy hair, auto-tune, and the artists who perform the President’s inauguration.

Live review: Mariah Carey

                                                                               Photo credit: Ken Leanfore

03 January 2013
by Poppy Reid

Tuesday, January 1
Gold Coast Convention and Exhibition Centre


For a woman renowned as a domineering diva – a trait which has only served her well along her 22-year career – Mariah Carey showed an undeniable vulnerability at her first Australian concert in fourteen years.

Bringing the glitter, five octave vocal range and a practised calm to the Gold Coast Convention Centre, the five-time Grammy Award winner may not have offered the concert she visualised, due to ongoing technical difficulties, but not once did she attempt to pull a woollen guise over her 4,500 capacity crowd. Instead she kept her ‘lambs’ informed every step of the way, even if that meant expertly turning her frustrations into a song.

Opening her first concert since June last year was husband Nick Cannon, despite his embryonic status in the music industry, the rationale behind her #1 supporter being her support act is obvious. “It’s my job to get the party started,” he yelled from behind the white DJ decks. Cannon’s set involved consistent advocacy of his wife’s upcoming performance, plugging the party that was happening ‘in the house tonight’ and singing over his iTunes playlist, which was more eclectic than a technicolour dreamcoat with songs from Blur, Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston and Gotye.

When Carey stepped out onstage, a sparkling hourglass walked by one of her six, vested male dancers, the sound problems had already begun during opener Can’t Take That Away . Her crowd paid no attention however, to make a Mariah Carey performance astounding, the only ingredient needed is her voice.

“Anything from last year or any year that you didn't like - play that track because I would like to shake it off.” through four outfit changes, hits like Shake It Off, Touch My Body, Always Be My Baby, Don’t Forget About Us and a reeling Jackson Five cover (I'll Be There) with special guest Trey Lorenz (initially recorded in 1992 for a MTV Unplugged set), Carey was transparent in her annoyance with her crew and her band.

“I know there's like 200 of you, can one of you fix the ear thing?” she laughed before settling us with an impromptu rhyme about the Gold Coast. “And you're not starting the song without me being ready. What are we thinking?!”

Long-time fans of the 42-year-old almost praised Carey for being the diva she has long been publicised as, but for an artist who has sold over 200 million records on the back of thirteen albums, a little upset is apposite. The true surprise for her zealots though, was how humbling her helplessness was; the Gold Coast witnessed a rarity in the stunning career of a pop superstar. “I would say thanks for nothing if the band didn’t hear it though,” Carey only half-joked.

Closing with Hero and We Belong Together before a festive mash of All I Want For Christmas Is You and Auld Lang Syne, Carey had come out on top, her fans swayed their homemade signs, danced between the confetti and lost themselves in her songs that shaped an MTV generation.

Brian McFadden: When Irish eyes are smiling



14 March 2013
by Poppy Reid

It’s almost 1am and minus four degrees in Glasgow, and Brian McFadden is standing outside a pub, glass of wine in hand, relaying his next career move to become the antithesis of everything he’s ever been.

“I did it with Just Say So and a couple of songs over the past few years, they’ve not been my best work but they’d been tailored to fit a radio programmer’s brief. I’m not doing that anymore. I wanna make songs that I’m proud of, that don’t fit into any kind of template.”

After an almost two-decade career which saw him recover from a boy band stint (sans publicised drug abuse), come out on top of a plethora of tabloid-making relationships, moonlight as a shock jock and talent show judge in Melbourne, and record three solo albums, McFadden wants to quietly ease away from the limelight.

“This is kind of hard for me to say but I started making my most successful music in Australia on radio, but by far my least quality work,” says the 33-year-old, “they’re the weakest and poorest songs.”

Although he’s just finished his support tour with ex-Westlife manager and regular collaborator Ronan Keating, McFadden realistically could be touring his own album at this point; it’s been a work in progress for over a year now but riding on his Irish ally’s coattails was a conscious step outside his commercially-influenced mentality. This month, McFadden will release his digression: The Irish Connection, a covers compilation featuring many of the artists he pays homage to.

“This project was so quick, it’s not like an album where you end up releasing three singles and it can last up to a year, this kind of project you don’t even put out a single,” he explains. “It was good for me to steer away from writing, kind of concentrate of the production and the performing of songs.”

The Irish Connection is McFadden’s revolt, despite the fact it features tracks by Snow Patrol, The Cranberries and Damien Rice, and duets with Sinead O’Connor, Aslan’s Christy Dignam and of course, Keating, the album is an anti-hit, it hasn’t got a chance at commercial airplay, but that was precisely the point.

“The last few years I’d be writing songs and the first question I’d ask is ‘would radio play it?’ and that’s a stupid way to look at things. So I think doing this covers album where the #1 rule was that it was never going to be about radio, it was just about making a record. I don’t have to worry if radio stations are going to play it or not.”

Finding collaborators was somewhat of a cakewalk for McFadden, the track with Keating (U2’s All I Want Is You) was arranged via text (“I sang on your last album, you’re singing on mine”), and his duet with O’Conner on traditional folk song Black Is The Colour, was arranged via email. “I just sent her the song, I didn’t really have to try, I just sent the song to the people that are on it,” he says lightly, “and they all came back straight away.”

Following each of the ten tracks’ recording, it didn’t even cross McFadden’s mind to approach the original artists for their input; not even O’Connor has heard his version of Nothing Compares 2 U.

“I wouldn’t give a shite,” he laughs. “I’m not into that, kind of, when people get too critical about their art. I think a song’s a song, I did my own version and I wasn’t trying to justify it to anybody else.

“She hasn’t heard it yet. She came into the studio and she goes, ‘Did you do Nothing Compares 2 U?’ and I go, ‘Yeah but I haven’t got it here.’ I wouldn’t play it to her. She can buy the album like everyone else!

His duet with O’Connor is arguably his most important yet, as McFadden tells it, the courageous Dubliner was generous during their time in the studio.

“She was almost teaching me the whole time and giving me tips, you know, even though I’ve been doing this for nearly twenty years, I’m still learning everyday,” he says, “and someone like her, she’s one of the most amazing singers on the planet, she has the most incredible voice… It’s a machine in itself.”

At 33-years-old, McFadden has come to a very crucial fork in the road; he’s been both in the wings and the hot fog of commercial limelight, and his recent shift of ambition, helmed with the recording of The Irish Connection, has put him in a very unique place.

“I found a comfort zone in making this album,” he says. “I’m starting to see more the direction I want to go and develop a more adult sound. I think Wall Of Soundz (2010) was a huge departure from my first two solo albums. I think I may have steered a bit too far away from where I actually sit.

“I probably tried to make a radio record rather than make a record for me. This covers album has given me direction again for where I want my sound to be. Sounds a bit wankery,” he laughs, repaying his words. “I hate people that talk about their art and their direction.”

While his first collection of originals since Wall Of Soundz won’t be finished until late this year, McFadden seems phlegmatic about the effects his decision will have on an Australian chart placing. Perhaps it’s the Irish blood that keeps his thoughts nonplussed, but it’s more likely the thought of making music on his terms.

“If people like it they’ll buy it, if they don’t at least I know I gave my best effort on it,” he says bluntly. “I’m not even considering about 2Day FM or Nova; how are people going to hear it is the next problem, but that’s for the record company to figure out.”