Gareth Sweet
Copywriter
Walking into The Tote these days, it’s hard not to wonder where they’re going to put the pizza ovens and then wonder where all the rock and roll fiends jammed up between the bar, the pool table and the juke box tonight will go when they do. But pushing my way out of the cold night and into the suddenly cramped and sweaty front bar I quickly forget about this because tonight it’s clear that the rock is still very much alive, at least for now.
Reaching the band room, I find out I’ve made it just in time to miss the Screwtop Detonators, which sucks arse because the last time I saw them they ripped the roof off at the Greyhound.
With just enough time to grab a beer and stake out a decent spot, Sailors and Swine staggered onto the stage. Cripple knee’d and full of drunken swagger, these guys bashed out a set of country-fried death rock that would have made both Nick Cave and Townes Van Zandt punch holes in their coffins.
The lead singer leaned into his guitar like it was the only thing holding him up, and stared down the crowd like he was ready to pull a knife. But as good as these guys were, and they were good, it was a set that seemed to descend rather than build, almost as if it were nodding out.
Next on were The Bakelite Age, and by now the band room had really filled up, with people edging for the first time down into the sunken lounge in front of the stage. These guys play beautifully constructed, sixties influenced pop with a looseness and ease that would make you hate them if the songs weren’t so good.
Stopping after every song to receive the applause of the crowd and banter amongst themselves, there’s no doubt these guys feel at home on the stage. However, despite several promising moments where it looks like the band are getting ready to kick off, they never quite seemed to ignite, leaving me at least, a little disappointed.
A sudden push of people from the beer garden and front bar surge into every available square inch of space just in time to witness the sleazy double headed hydra of 6FtHick explode on stage. With these guys, there’s no warming up period as they launch into the crowd like a sweaty fist to the face.
The two brothers work the crowd in tandem; Ben, the agitated one, is full of nervous energy as he repeatedly throws himself backwards onto the stage, humps the drum riser and contorts himself into seemingly impossible shapes. It’s not long before he’s lathered in sweat and bleeding from multiple cuts and abrasions, a screaming human hamburger. But Geoffro is the dangerous one, hanging back he paces and spits bile into the crowd - an evil preacher saving the world for sin.
These guys look and sound like what good speed feels like. Nobody can look away, everyone is stretching and craning their necks so they don’t miss a thing. They are rooted to the floor, and for once it’s not just the sticky carpet.
In sharp contrast to the manic pulse of the brothers, the snake charmers Tony and Dan each stand in their respective corners of the stage almost rooted to the spot while Fred on drums lays down his driving beat with an amazing economy of movement that belies its ferocity.
Twice Nicky Blue Eyes joins the boys on stage to add her croon to their howls like a trio of demonic Kenny’s and Dolly. Ben’s shirt is off and his pants hang open as he slides his hand down under the greasy waistband of his underwear to grab a handful of love. But when others in the crowd reach out for a piece of their own, he chastises them cruelly, “Have you no self respect?”
There is never any let up in the intensity. A small mosh pit forms in front of the stage, no mean feat when playing to a crowd of such jaded old hands for whom detached cool is second nature. And when at last the band finishes in a glorious shambles, the crowd almost seem to sag, as if spent themselves. As my old friend Mossy would say, it’s like everyone had just achieved in their pants.
For anyone who says rock and roll is dead, for anyone who says they’ve seen it all before, I say see 6FtHick and then we’ll talk. This, kids, is how evil rock and roll is done.
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