[Gig Review] SPIDERBAIT (AUS) ‘Ivy & the Big Apples’ 30TH Anniversary Tour & @ Forum Melbourne (aus), 24.07.26.
Writer:
Brady Irwin
Photography:
Kaz Black
Event:
Spiderbait ‘Ivy & The Big Apples 30th Anniversary Australian Tour 2026’
Artist/s:
SPIDERBAIT (Finley, AUS), HOT MILK MACHINE (Melbourne, AUS) & MAGIC DIRT (Geelong, AUS)
Organised By:
Frontier Touring
(See end of article for relevant artist/photographer/misc links).
It’s a bit of a thing at the moment, full-album tours and anniversary-of-X. I’m completely for it, honestly, especially when it benefits both ways: Us punters get treated to a live rarity they might never see again, and the artists get a break from their own routine setlists. Tonight, in celebration of the 30th anniversary of their seminal 1997 LP Ivy & The Big Apples, seminal torch-bearing alternative/punk crossover act Spiderbait have packed out The Forum allegedly, the tour’d sold out both Melbourne nights as per the tour-poster above.
Wouldn’t have thought that on arrival, but then again doors were at 5.30pm on a Friday. Doors being so early, it’s likely a fair few punters would still either be commuting, finishing up paperwork or still tying one off with colleagues during Friday knock-off. Makes the venue feel a little more sparse than usual, but that’s always welcomed over the sardine-packed tight jostle that’d come later in the night as the place filled out.
Anyway, a report on how the venue filled out with punters is about as exciting as a tax return, so let’s steer it back to the bands. Representing the grungier aspects of the punk/garage feel dominating Ivy, I was pleasantly surprised with the opening act for tonight, local all-girl garage/punk-rockers Hot Milk Machine. With a name like that staring me in the face and all its’ connotations in my mind of glam, indie and other very unrelated genres, I thought it best to surprise myself for these guys.
Kind of glad I made that decision, because on the live front and at least on that night, with that backline/setup - the tone was freaking brutal, man! Like, real gnarly. Full crust/metal joy to my ears! Seriously, the loud griminess feels like they borrowed all their gear off local death-metallers Carcinoid, then maybe cranked treble and mids a bit. Well, honestly, pretty much on the bass, and that also ain’t a complaint - there was a real retro-thrash style clack to bass attack tonight, sounding real close to that pick-attack punk tone. Even the drums were thick, solid and booming, snares cracking sharply with chest-thudding bass-drum kicks. This also therefore immediately became very glad I didn’t do me an ADHD and leave the plugs by the kitchen counter again.
Bet there were a whooooole lot of ringing ears after tonights’ gig too - it was loud as hell from start to finish!
HMM’s actual riffing on the opener itself and follow-up tracks were decent, plodding along at a more garage-rock/alt-rock canters before busting out into some faster, more d-beat/hardcore-punk style moments here and there. To be honest, I’d love to see them play a heap more fast material. But that’s also probably just ‘cause I listen to too much grindcore. The riffs themselves hold up, the pacing’s fine and lead guitarist/vocalist Paige also has plenty of her own little shredding moments here and there. It’s actually a fair sight more actual-punk vibes and aesthetic than some other local punk acts I’ve seen recently - that’s ones with older members too, these guys having formed in high school in 2022.
The backing vocal harmonies are admittedly catchy, especially with some super hooky, boppy garage-punk singles like ‘Please (Let Me Get What I Want)’. There’s your punk-standard typical mix of melodic, gang-chant and sassy yells, “Hey”s and “Oi”s. However, I found myself less drawn to those aspects live in tonights’ performance due to their near-burial in a stifling, boomy mix. The punchier, punkier shouts from Alannah (Bass), Rosie (Drums) and Oz (Guitar) were discernible, sure, but there were a few hooky multi-vocal moments I feel were usurped unfairly. For me, I was totally biased and happily bathing like a pig in the proverbial on that tone alone.
Overall, whilst not my thing in terms of some of their poppier and harmonic leanings, there’s enough crust, dirt and scuzz being flung around this band to more than earn them a slot on the bill, same with their energetic stage presence. Hearty cheers of approval from a small but slowly building crowd before them floor-side indicated much the same approval. More than I think Paige was expecting a couple of songs prior when she’d announced “Thank you, we’ve been Hot Milk Machine! Listen to our music…. or don’t”.
Honestly, a lot of people in Melbourne could do well with more of that brevity in their verbal diet if you ask me. Especially those goddamn gig-reviewers. Guh.
Anyway, point being overall is that these guys were super well-received by the crowd during their set, played well and might I also be permitted one last opportunity to froth on that damn tone ? Thanks.
The crowd’s not exactly jammed into the venue, but there’s been a constant steady flow of punters ever since doors, I’ve just now realised. I tend to get fixated on the band moreso than crowds these days, unless someone like Banana Man pops up as a novel little dopamine encounter.
For the second time in a row and really, showcasing the diversity of the headliners in that they can slot a bill with pretty much anyone, is Frankston’s The Gnomes. If you saw the first band, this was a jarring shift. On paper, I’d seen the band be described as beat-group/doo-wop mixed with 60’s-era rock-n-roll, blues and garage-rock. That’s honestly overcomplicating it, and I think the bands’ own assertion that “We’re The Gnomes - we’re from Frankston and we play rock-n-roll!” as they kick off straight into opener ‘Death Sentence’ said it better anyway.
In fairness, for a band who looked like Led Zeppelin swapping fashion notes with a 1950’s New Jersey greaser, they had a pretty diverse and interesting spread of rock riffology. ‘Death Sentence’ for instance starts off with this clanky, jangly surf-rock bluesy runs, courtesy of Jay Millar (lead vocals, lead guitar) and Ned Capp (guitar). Olly Katsianis (bass) looks half like a young alt-rock James Hetfield, keeping lock-step and physically agile with the equally loose/casual-feeling but rhythmically tight playing of Ethan Robins (drums). Just that track alone feels like it veers into a weird near-Dead Kennedy’s punkiness and then a bit of 12-bar blues, some honkey-tonk thrown in there as well, why not?!
The next track ‘I Like It’ is a little more my speed, literally. It leans a lot more into the hard-rock/punk leaning aspects of their sound and is a bit more of a fast-mover overall. Ethan thuds down hard during several tom-heavy sections that punctuate nicely with the bass for a bit of oomph; between that and the numerous gang-chants/multi-vocal harmonies, it feels nearly punk circus. Whatever the heck is going on, it’s well-received by the crowd, and it’s heartwarming to see folks chuck everything down from full mosh through to ‘drunk Mum/Dad on cruise-ship karaoke night’ dancing, laughing, just people having a grand time.
Leaning even further into the snooty garage-punk ethos is the follow-up track ‘I’m Not the One’ which gains itself a chorus of keen devotees helping chime in up the front. By this stage, The Forum’s floor is starting to pack right out, and a quick glance right sees the aisles filling right up too. Aforementioned speed-freak bias aside, I really did genuinely dig some of the faster riffs here, especially when they’d backflip from something gnarly and distorted to some 12-bar bluesy sounding dime-change. Over all this, they somehow manage to shoehorn in anthemic choruses, lots of vocal hooks and even plenty of a-capella moments? Definitely an interesting track, that one.
‘The Flippin’ Stomp’ was where they brought all those old-school heyday vibe back with a very swingin’, bluesy old-time feel. The additional grit of distorted guitars, and gruffer vocals from Jay, gave this one the atmosphere of honky-tonk played by a Seattle grunge band in a dive-bar. There’s even some sections in here that get pretty fast, whipping the crowd into more of a mosh than a hoedown for a bit. Some pretty gnarly, virtuoso soloing from Jay, with Ned Capp throwing in his own classic-rock flavoured leads and solos… and also some real desert-rock riff moments too? Just how many cards were these dudes going to pull out of the deck tonight?! The crowds’ loving it, and far less concerned with trying to play subgenre assessment-and-triage like some autist metal guy up the b-
Anyway, moving on: ‘Don’t Worry’ feels ironically titled, with it’s structure being more of that strange, ever-shifting but somehow hooky mix of garage, punk and old-timey rock-n-roll. There was also some great use of distortion, fuzz and other effects on this one that give it this cruisy, almost Kyuss stoner/desert-rock blues tone. Another big cheer from the crowd, and suddenly I realise there’s actually a pretty sizeable contingent of folks jostling to get upfront even this far into the set!
“Feel free to take a step closer - we don’t bite!” Jay motions to a portion of the floor-side crowd hanging right towards the back (fair cop, I’m one of those people at the time - Sammy O’Flynn hangs his mosher head in shame), before kicking off next track ‘Magic Man’, another blustery blues breeze by rock-n-roll, garage-rock/punk and a little sprinkle of classic/alt-rock. Once again, deceptively talented these blokes. Well.. shredding solos and sick riffs aplenty maybe arent that deceptive. Or the fact they’re all great singers. Or.. yeah okay, fair.
“This song’s about the price of a pack of cigarettes!” is the precursor lore-drop to incredibly, deeply mysteriously-titled ‘The Price of Smoke Blues’ Another one from the support bands I really got into riff-wise was this one, as they manage to make it this progression from very stock-standard blues through to a pretty punchy octave riff and even some off-kilter tempos, giving the rhythm this weirdly teetering math-rock vibe? I thought that was pretty goddamn rad, and that was primarily driven by the two cats on drum and bass pushing and pulling the pocket so easily.
Methinks these guys watched too much ‘Don’t Do What Donny Don’t Does!’ when ordering the setlist… and that’s my terrible joke introducing penultimate track ‘Don’t Ever’. “This one’s off the new record!” Jay announces, and the reception is one that is much firmer a lander than bad puns. This track also had an interesting combination of rock-and-roll swing-time and some of just slightly too off-kilter post-punk style rhythms. The fact the vocal and guitar melodies somehow also stay intact over all of it is impressive. I loved the punky buildup in this one too!
“That’s fuckin’ right!” Jay beams triumphantly over a big applauding reception, the room damn near full-to-bursting to catch him sign off with “We’re The Gnomes, we’re from Frankston, this is ‘With A Gnome’!” and off they launch into some very Spiderbait-friendly effects-washed tinkling before rolling out a triplet-y, stompy riff that felt like some kind of super dirty blues-punk. There’s a weird mix of vocals being thrown around, some half-hummin’ Elvis style bluesy purrs, some guttural Aussie alt-rock chants - it’s all over the shop. But then it all ties together in one last booming riff that feels like a goddamn hardcore bands’ breakdown its’ that heavy, complete with guitar and stage histrionics in your tried-and-true extended rock-band outro. They copped one hell of a rousing reception at the end too!
A support band who readily are able to command rooms this size and much larger comfortably as headliners in their own right, it’s easy to forget Magic Dirt’s regional roots. As I’ve mentioned on the blog/socials, I’m freshly moved back to Melbourne after a few years living on the Bellarine Peninsula, just east of Victoria’s second-biggest city.
Whilst my escapade was part of the gentrification/post-Andrews-lockdown bull-rush that has the locals heads reeling, frontwoman/guitarist Adalita Srsen and Co have that everyman, stoic self-assuredness that I miss about the region already. No pretence, no social points-scoring arms-races - they kick it in style, as they’ve always done.
As a primarily metal/heavy-music listener, the ‘Dirt aren’t a band orbiting my playlists too closely. But I’ve seen them a few times and always find new interesting nooks and niches over what presents as hooky, angular, noisy, sass-filled alt-pop/garage rock.
Stood central to both the stage and the mix, Adalita gives a perfunctory but passionate welcome from herself and the band as they get into ‘Redhead’, one of many chart-stomping hits churned out by the crew over the years. Surprising local punters at The Barwon Club in Geelong back in 2018 with a sudden live resurgence following one of Adalita’s solo shows, it’s clear the intervening of lockdown and all the madness since then hasn’t dulled their blades. Perservering following a hiatus in 2011 following the tragic death of original bassist Dean Turner (RIP), the current incarnation of the lineup are more than capable.
Speaking of bass, Steve Patrick’s lines have their own angular lean, notes jutting out from the safe pop-bassist space, cutting distortion adding some nice grit atop the underrated, exploratory and dynamic stylings of Raul Sanchez alongside Srsen herself. Keeping the pulse both loose and taut as though stretching elastic and string, Andre Fazio’s drumming is a fantastic mix of hard-punching attack and soft, accentuated embellishment.
All of this culminates with a sonic experience that’s orders of magnitude more chest-thudding and replete with the bands’ origins than the sheen of their (well)produced studio material. I’ll admit that although having been on the ‘Dirt track (got to throw in at least one terrible pun this review) down their less-trodden material over the years - I did have reservations about how they might stack up between two very punky, faster-paced acts. And that’s even factoring in the seriously Nile-like Egyptian whispers that coil around the first track’s lead-work, like slightly off-kilter snakes.
Well, by the rousing chorus of cheers on that and the pretty punk-leaning riffage scattered throughout follower and early MD hit ‘Supertear’, I was eating words. Words, and a wall of eyebrow-raisingly gnarly tones slicing out the guitar and bass amps. Nice, dudes (and dudette). With a lot of utility employed by impressive pedalboards, the fretted band-mates aren’t reliant on effects to carry tunes either. You hear that here especially, the angsty yet lilting harmonies of Srsen rolling over thick distorted chords, wavering alongside phaser and reverb in quiescent moments as though tethered to the amp output.
Adalita’s skill as a vocalist is that she’s able to sort of subsume herself with the riff as such, but carries enough punch and harmonic sensibility to always be central and present too. The vocal dynamicism also fits well with her own physical movement: flits between staunch, upright posture whilst busting out lyrics, contrasted with some hair-whipping rock-and-roll moves, guitar stabbing towards drummer and fellow guitarist as the riff overtakes them all.
There’s very little stillness from much of the band wholesale throughout, and it’s that perpetual motion that also lends to an energising effect on crowd and musical expression alike. You can see them going harder, but you can also hear that increased tension on frets and sticks in the wall of sound thrumming at the chest.
Unsurprisingly, ‘Supertear’ is another winner from the audience’s perspective. There’s not a moshpit that’s really tangible through this set, but folks are lively, dancing, headbanging even, everyone just caught in their own somatic interpretation.
As ‘Watch Out Boys’ kicks the setlist on, I realise another important element that shouldn’t be understated - phrasing. Especially on this one, vocals are parsed in a way that feels a lot more in-pocket with Fazio’s kit, playfully also accentuating or extending a note with rhythmic changes. It’s not mathcore extremity a-la, say, The Dillinger Escape Plan, sure. But even for a snobby metalhead such as myself, there’s a healthy appreciation for the noise/math-rock infusions under the overlaid alt-rock/alt-pop vibes.
The increased intensity/richness of the live format hasn’t fazed a massive portion of Forum attendees tonight, either. If anything, the rousing and choral booming emanating from those of us watching is more akin to recent Forum punk visitors The Descendents (sigh, shameless plug for that Gig Review). To squeeze Dropkick Murphy’s tier singalong out of a bunch of folks here to see a punky, harder-edged headliner’s demonstrative of their wide appeal.
Magnifying that lens back down to the purview of our most patrician of alternative music-scene enjoyers - metalheads - I clocked quite a few headbanging in tandem, too. Especially with the onset of the surprisingly sludge-rocking ‘Ice Age No. 7’. Fun fact: back in early 2000-whatever, I’m sat on a friends’ room floor arguing that ‘this isn’t heavy’ for a variety of very ACKSHUALLY rationales.
Having come into metal through alt-rock, hardcore, noise-rock and the like, that track not only shut me the hell up but spurned to eventually go see them later in 2000-my-memory-is-shot-time. Queensland somewhere! I’m pretty sure I said something pretentious-as-shit like “woah, so this is like The Jesus Lizard, but pop?”. Decades later, I’m still dribbling my pseudo-intellectual verbiage about music, you’re just the ones copping it.
Point is, this one’s pretty punchy and really utilises all the non-heavy metal heft that can be piped in without forsaking a whole patchwork of boppy melodies, poppy hooks and extended vocal lines. If a guy like me who’s usual genre fare is either savagely feral or just eye-rollingly experimental/weird, it’s a great sign.
Which makes ‘Get Ready To Die’ much, much funnier to me. It’s a track title you’d either expect from a South American thrash metal band or something on an early Obituary/Jungle Rot album. Nope, it’s here and it’s power-pop that’s both glittery and jagged with some alt-rock heft. That it’s both those things makes Adalita’s lyrics and recitation of the title almost unnerving in a way. Pour over the top of this the fact she and the others vacillate so easily between shoulder-shrug calmness, cheekiness and guitars-thrown-at-amps punkish energy, and the crowd’s whipped right up now.
Contrast that with ‘Fairy Park’, a track that in a titular sense sounds like some kids’ park or a My Little Pony fan-fic. While it’s pretty much power-pop as the name suggests, it’s not exactly saccharine. It’s reminiscent of the openers in that there’s lots of hooky melodic elements to the vocals, but the guitars have this nearly discordant jangle throughout the track that gives it quite a biting edge as well.
Those two get an appreciative enough chorus of applause, but you just know the opening refrains of ‘Plastic Loveless Letter’ are ones that will prime pre-emptive screams, shouts and “Farrrrrrrrrk-yeah!”s of excitement. Shocking, I know, but get this: the crowd does exactly that! Witchcraft, I know. Once again, this is one driven powerfully and primarily by pop sensibilities, but there’s such a healthy injection of swirling alt/noise-rock deeper in the cauldron that you wouldn’t dare scull the lot in one go. Adalita’s warbling and lilting harmonies, punctuated on this song like others with only the choicest of rasps and snarls, continues to paint that almost oddly juxtaposing picture.
Doubling down on the big swingers that skyrocketed them into the mainstream echelon in the first place (not to mention just straight extending the applause from the prior track) comes one of their most readily recognisable numbers via ‘Dirty Jeans’. Broken record, but there’s a lightly caustic edge to both distortion and effects here that ripples through more rhythmically sparse and traditional pop-rock structure. If I need to tell you it’s catchy as all hell, then I legitimately deign not to encourage you check it out online, totally don’t open a new browser tab or anything. Congratulations, now you’ve got an infectious ear-worm, enjoy! Mine followed me home the whole train-ride back to Preston. And if (plot spoiler!) that can overwrite the stupidly effective worm dug in by ‘Black Betty’ later on? Props!
I also had to think about the last track a little more, both at the time and when writing this review. Honestly, underrated moment having ‘I Was Cruel’ in terms of lyrically and thematically wrapping up the entire experience. We’ve had Adalita wearing sass, sarcasm, charm, sneer and all sorts, but even her expression mellows to something more sombre with the reflective, introspective lines like “I have quit you by mistake/ I have nothing more/Nothing more to make” hit me surprisingly harder emotionally than I was ready for, one of quite a few moments that caught me throughout.
In terms of the song itself, though, I like that it’s a gentler number with more focus on a nearly doomy/sludge-like cadence, powerful chords and palm-mutes clashing with tender and sensitive guitar-lines. It feels a bit post-rock, a bit Radiohead and feels like a mature and realised ending to the set, rather than just going fan-service. All of that still didn’t a thunderous applause from the crowd as their last notes and thank-you’s rang out, either.
In an industry where being active on the live-front is important for keeping exposure (such as this review + social media reach, sharing, etc), not many people are very begrudging of the rising trend in anniversary-milestone tours celebrating landmark/fan-favourite releases.
1997 was an interesting year; culturally it felt a little more lucid but still punctuated with all sorts of weirdness. Ivy & The Big Apples feels like a great representation of that in album-form - it’s an epic trek through 90’s alt-Australia, a garage-rock/punk rager that has all manner of experimental nooks, crannies and passages awash with pedalboard effects.
I was only eight goddamn years old and I still remember how immediately and firmly ‘Calypso’ imprinted itself on my hippocampus from the radio at first and then.. that video clip.
It’s just so representative of how trippy, simplistic and quietly weird Aussie media could often be - ‘Calypso’ Music Video:
I’m sure there’s quite a few in attendance who might only be familiar with that one and their other big cover hit, Steppenwolf’s ‘Black Betty’. That’s totally fine, they can come along for the ride. Kind of jealous if this was your first introduction to the album, to be honest, especially in full. The sound was grungy and clacky with a lot of grit, distortion and just the right amount of clarity, the leads still punchy.
Speaking of clack and delicious tone, there’s a really heavy disortion and beefy low-end, helped by both Janet English (bass/vocals)’s cutting, gnarly and often bouncy basslines. Complimenting that, Whitt (David Whitty, guitar/vocals) puts some serious thought into beefing up and chunking the hell out of his tone, sounding more like New York hardcore punkers like Gorilla Biscuits than garage, and Kram (Mark Maher, drums/vocals)’s kick is tuned to bust through nuclear silo bunkers it’s that deep.
The sonic oomph isn’t exactly like getting your face ripped off by an extreme-metal band, but there’s a sizeably chunky heft to the bass, the riffing, the amps, pedals, all of it. I think that’s something that’s just straight up been missing a while in the mainstream Aussie music-media landscape, and the openers’ a great recapture of that energy.
‘Chest Hair’ is the first offer tonight, of course, and it stomps with that real nice, Clutch-goes-punk upbeat bouncing open-string and power-chord progression. Kram’s gravelly snarl is nonetheless melodic and especially on this track, I feel has a particular melodic twang reminiscent of Silverchair, specifically. The first bluesy, cruisin’ hard-rocker finishes up and naturally, the audience are also well-primed to hit those “Yeah!” chants right towards the end as the feedback rains.
Huge applause ensues, but it’s time to kick on with ‘Hot Water & Milk’. Even on disc, this one has a real sludge-metal thickness to the riffage that I always thought contrasted really well with Janet’s higher-pitched, more lilting vocal style. It works well with the breakbeat-style drumming against that hypnotic warble: “You said it/I said it/You said it/I said it/You said it but I dread it a-gain!” gets belted out each time with equal fervor by band and crowd, resulting in a super booming singalong that bleeds naturally into some more huge applause.
Not much time given for waiting around to give speeches - that swing-time beat driving the start of ‘Buy Me A Pony’, being asked "Don’t you want to be/A personality?” the sneering bark that has it’s own vocal swing. That’s another great aspect about this album; the shift from a-capella, single/duo vocalist and sharing of those duties shows three players with a really rounded ear (and portfolio). Between the fist-pumps and first-crowd surfers over some “Yeah-Yeah”s, a pit only just starts forming at a near unfortunate moment: ‘When Fusion Ruled The Earth’.
That’s fine though, ‘cause literally everyone gives each other their dirtiest bassist/drummer stank/gurn-face as folks break out into mass booty-shaking and head-bopping to the breakout of boppy but fast-paced jazz-fusion rock. Things feel like high-urgency blues until that almost teasing little guitar refrain comes in, the band all facing each other with proverbial-eating grins like it’s still the first time they locked it in at jams.
Whytt then cops it on the chin pretty amicably after whiffing it and causing a restart of one of their most iconic smash-hits, ‘Calypso’. When I think of living by the beach in the summertime in the 90’s, this one of those tracks that helps effortessly conjure up that image. “Sunshine/on my window/Makes me happy/Like I should be” is crooned by Janet with the same semi-sarcastic croon as That tinkling clean guitar intro about sunshine and happiness, breaking in and out of those jarring walls of hard-rock and punk riffage (each of which pumps up the mosh more and more). “Don’t tell me/What it means to me” obviously gets a massive resounding choral singalong from the crowd, and it damn near threatens to drown out even those ungodly thick amps. It’s a catchall cry from a generation sick of being asked to define happiness by previous social norms and roles, and it’s a timeless classic to belt out with others too!
Oh God, man. I know I’ve already typed way too much, far too much. But I’ve really got to get a leg-on with this album. I know Ivy is packed with tracks, but if you see how many encores there are… dios mio… Right. Get On With It, Brady. So 'Calypso’ is one that whips the crowd up big-time, decidedly more energetic than the very sombre ‘Goin’ Off’. This follow up is mostly a sadly melodic little solo croon from Janet regarding people who take advantage of/harm others at shows. It’s a brief number, only a minute and a half in length but its’ touching and an important sentiment to boot, so it gets a healthy applause. That only serves to make the ripping punk-rock attack of follow-up track ‘Don’t Kill Nipper’ even more of a grindy caterwaul - that punching, driving bassline and the up-tempo drums got the house into one of the bigger moshes going for the night. Lots of fist-pumps and hoots for that one!
‘Horshack Army’ sees members swapping roles for a groovy, pulsing instrumental that once again gets that all-important, chicken-necked funky head-bob going. It’s another example of the stylistic genre-psychosis that permeates this album, as things really heat up with ‘Conjunctivitis’. I love the doom-metal fuzz of this track and how subtly the vocals (Janets’ and the bands’ as a trio) throw the weight around harmonically. It’s another flash in the pan of deeply gritty garage-punk tones, fast tempos and a very abrupt departure.
‘Joyce’s Hut’ and its’ subdued Whytt vocals, electronic backing beats with organic instruments and some really acid-washed effects… hang on, did Tame Impala take this one and make a whole band with it?! Either way, it’s a pretty welcome melodic lull. My own attention’s actually really starting to fracture here - not out of boredom, just my short-acting ADHD meds doing exactly as described on the tin. It’s pivotal to keep this little reprieve brief, though, as medicated or not/their business, the hordes are also looking similarly weary even from the slight inertia.
‘Jasper’ is a fantastic shake-up from that, featuring both a nice solid run of sunny Fu Manchu styled desert-rocking riffage, some real proto nu-metal single-string grooves and power chords in there as well. I loved that they absolutely doused the vocals in as much ridiculous reverb as the original track. Nice touch with the gnarly heaviness of the live tone. Needless to say, another pit (and applause) rouser. ‘Goosh’ kind of threatens to bring a bit more of that fatigue setting back in. Not because it’s a bad track, it’s nice and poppy and bright, but it’s just too summery-sweet at this juncture for keeping momentum.
Enter the snarky brat-kid punk stomper ‘Should Have Done What My Mum Always Told Me To Do’, with it’s kinda-Pantera/kinda-Mudhoney riffage. A mix of Kram at his fastest and snarliest lets him lead a really punky, no-holds-barred fast one to get the cheers going again, reanimating the stragglers. The “No-no-no-no-nono!” naturally got as much a crowd singalong as the discernible barks and gang-chants all over the track too. ‘Hey’ has a more subdued and kinda nasal vocal delivery to it, but that’s about all that changes. It’s also got that upbeat garage-punk style that feels baked either somewhere in Baja or off the dunes near Ocean Grove.
Speaking of 90’s heavy-riffers, Whytt’s guitar feels full Melvins on the albums’ penultimate track ‘Hawaiian Nights’, another chug-heavy riff-a-thon where Kram’s allowed to pelt ahead of his own beat, as though too manic to even play in the present tense. Very different from his humble thanks of support given for the band past, present and future through the set. Like deadset, bloke almost sounds like he’s imposing on us by pointing it out - of course he gets big cheers each time though in support!
And what an album closer. To a complete utter lack of surprise, this metalhead and post-metal/sludge fan in particular loooooves ‘Driving Up The Ceiling’. Having seen these guys live a few times in the past, I definitely hadn’t caught this sprawling thirteen-minute epic. It closes out the album and the bands’ full-album part of the performance in epic. grandiose but also plodding, minimalist form. Sheets of spindly post-rock style arpeggios, some discordant textures here and there on both guitar and bass, real My Bloody Valentine levels of impenetrable fuzz and grit in places, easing off into the punkier end and a rousing send-off from all of us.
Truly an epic performance, and well enough in its’ own right to not warrant an encore. That was a lot to manage even taking on from the punter perspective, so now I’m really getting the 9.30pm headliner start time.
That early start makes even more sense once you realise that’s ‘just’ the album section. Not, two, three, four or even five but six goddamn encores from across their discography, sweeping up their influences and their canon in a whole slew of tracks that near some bands’ entire stage-times. The warbling, high pitched dulcet tones of Janet for ‘Big Furry Green Monster’ are a little too warily fragile, and it’s almost like the crowd can expect it - the hooting starts before Kram even, well, krams it on the accelerator and hits hard for the much faster, louder ‘Shazam!’ (another ‘bait fave of mine). The riffage on this one has some serious metal chunk to it too, a new level of ballsy heft that even gets a metalhead snob like me gurning and nodding in appreciation.
The nodding (headbanging) continues with ‘Outta My Head’, Janet’s trademark vocal blend of sweetness and sarcasm pulsing vocally and lyrically in step with some grooving basslines and funky drumming. This one for whatever reason has always reminded me of Donkey Kong Country on the Super Nintendo.. I have no idea why. Could just be the funk!
Follow that up with what’s basically the ‘Bro Hymn’ for these guys, and you’re guaranteed to get audience-participation that dares to threaten the levels of even soccer hooligans. ‘Old Man Sam’ gets Kram either grinning or pouting seriously back at the crowd, a big call/response chant-fest with some real Acca Dacca style hard-rocking. It’s a little less radio-friendly than AC/DC next, though, with ‘Fucken Awesome’ seeing the crowd throw expletives (and crowd-surfer or two) back at Janet and Co, giving it a final gas-pedal slam on punkier tempos.
And lo, it came to it. Finally, frantically, crazily, these cats pull off the second night in a row of playing twenty-plus goddamned songs in a set by doing what, exactly? Well, none other than the inevitable rendition of ‘Black Betty’, of course! But that’s not enough for Spiderbait. Cause you see, these three are powered by polonium, or nuclear fission, or other things beyond our understanding. They’re three decades into celebrating this album’s release. I was seven years old or something like that at the time. They’re rocking harder than I am, and they whip this cover round the ankles and give it their own extended punk/alt-rock jam, finishing out with an absolutely thundering applause.
A stupendous night of Australian rock in celebration of a fantastic slice of Aussie alt-rock/punk culture, tonight felt like a very special rendition of Spiderbait’s classic material, from a band who don’t appear to be slowing down any time soon.
LINKS:
Hot Milk Machine (AUS):
(See For: Music Streaming/Video (Spotify, Youtube, Live Albums, Podcasts) + Socials (Bandcamp, Facebook, Instagram) & Email, Merch, Ticket Links etc)
the gnomes (AUS):
mAGIC dIRT (AUS):
SPIDERBAIT (AUS):
Official
FRONTIER TOURING (Australia/New Zealand):
Inner-strength check - links:
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