Exquisite Corpse - Thursday 14 August
Atrocities, Ghosts of Television, The Vignettes + man eats paint in glass box.
Exquisite Corpse is a new Oxford St club night organized by first-time booker, James Shirlaw, an artistic character bent on providing a different experience to the dj/band/dj/band/dj format of most events. It features bands, dj’s, short films and performance artists. The vibe is extremely healthy, with most heads of Sydney’s ‘underground’ scene in common attendence, various members of Reckless Vagina often djing tracks from Wu-Tang or the White album, and the influence of art school kids streaked in face-paint around the thin and chamber-like space, along with a nauseous looking fellow in a glassed room, busily drinking paint and regurgitating it onto the walls, art indeed.
I saw Warhorse play there a few weeks ago, a shambolic set of classics and lurching blues, with Fenton doin’ his thing with half a drum-kit, standing to beat life into a floor tom and snare, and destroying a ride with some mangled china screwed upside-down on top of it. Bert held his end down, as ever, Jasper lurching about, hair freshly whitened, straight drunken dirty rock-n-roll.
Last week was our turn. I play in Ghosts of Television. The Vignettes opened the night, we played with them at Club 77 a month or so ago, and I admit to missing most of their set, once again, due to cigarettes. They’re a two-piece garage outfit with a front-man on guitar and a girl on drums. Apparently they’re doing the Come Together Festival, so I hear.
The Vignettes. Photo by Annie Ly.
We came on next, running through a few new ones. The sound wasn’t the greatest, as we ran the synth through a bass amp, but it came together pretty well. A subsequent comment on our myspace cited our ‘Biggie cover’ as the highlight, being ‘Cash’. In the end, I was bleeding from several fingers after ripping them to pieces on the ride symbol during Buzzrd. Knocking on front-doors and pocketing has been slightly painful ever since.
Ghosts of Television. Photo by Annie Ly.
Finally, Atrocities took the floor. These guys are one of my favourite bands, and have been for a long while. The line-up has grown steadily to it’s present level of eight members, I heard they were aiming for twelve, to become ‘The Dirty Dozen’, but for now they’re content as Sydney’s Wu Tang Clan.
Atrocities. Photo by Annie Ly.
They have two drummers, three to four guitars, bass, synth and two vocals, grinding out a dirty kind of southern doom rock, with strong tonal elements of a dusty, acid-soaked highway somewhere in the wastes of a dry, merciless desert, there’s such a strong groove to it, and it’s mayhem onstage, with so many members, the force of it can crash down, smatterings of symbols on a bass, parting for storms of noise and guitar, screams and Jai rounding on Fin, stabbing him in the chest with his tele, and again, harder this time, and I leant against the bar, packed in like all others, mere feet from a chaos that wheels and climaxes in a half hour.
God damn, I’ll be seeing those cats tonight, playing at Spectrum with Warhorse, Bain Wolfkind and Diamondback Rattler.
