Gareth Sweet
Copywriter
Tuesday night was beard night at the Toff, with every record collector and dude in a bedroom noise band in Melbourne, staking out a chair at the Toff to see Acid Mothers Temple Guru Guru. At least that’s what it was supposed to be, but apparently The Acid Mothers Temple guys got stuck in Japan, fighting giant flying squid or making niche fetish porn or howling at the moon or something. So tonight, it was just gonna be Guru Guru. Now I’m gonna be honest here, I came for the Japanese Psych, and personally I think Kraut Rock is an oxymoron. So I realise this made me possibly the least suitable person in the room to review this gig.
Add to this a disagreement I’d had with my boss earlier that day (namely him disagreeing with me working for him anymore), meant I couldn’t get drunk, so I was in a less than receptive mood.
Things didn’t get off to a good start when the red velvet curtain pulled back to reveal a dude standing there with a saxo-mo-phone, a fucking SAXO-MO-PHONE. Dear god.
Manny, the little German drummer and only original dude in the band, then stood up in his cute little cycling outfit and explained who all the randoms in the band were and why they weren’t Japanese. I’d probably know who they were if I got invited to the right parties in Fitzroy. But I don’t, so I didn’t, so get over it.
So anyway, they start, and immediately it sounds to me like the musical equivalent of watching someone beat off into a sock, and I find myself wondering if huffing lighter gas was a possibility and whether I possibly have enough.
Things take a turn for the hilarious when some lone acid casualty, leaps up at the front of the stage and begins waving his arms around in the air like Syd Barrett - if Syd Barrett couldn’t dance and was engulfed in flames.
Then, as I sat entranced by this gentle loon, I began really listening to the music instead of just letting it wash over me, trying to work out what the fuck there was to get about it. And then a strange thing happened, the more I listened and the more I thought, the less hostile I became to it.
Moving from screechy free jazz, to heavy Sunn O))) style doom dirges, with some pots and pans drumming thrown in between, the music was constantly moving in unexpected directions. And, in the end I found myself genuinely clapping along with everyone else.
To be honest I’m still not sure what I really think about this gig, but I’m still thinking about it, and I think that’s a good thing. I think.
Resume