X
The Esplanade Hotel, Melbourne
Saturday July 05, 2008 with 0 Mess+Noise champion in attendance.
Featuring: X.
If there’s any outfit that deserves icon status, it’s X. Thirty years after forming the band, and despite hurdles that would knock many a would-be out of the race, Steve Lucas is still at it. This band isn’t his whole life, but it’s certainly a big part of it.
Since Ian Rilen’s death, there have been concerns about whether this is still the ”real” band. But Kim Volkman has stepped into the bass playing slot deftly, making room for memories while also making his own mark. And Cathy Green still smiles that slightly cryptic smile up the back there, and lets her drumming speak for her.
Tonight’s a one off, and a freebie, and the grotty old Espy is packed. Forget what you see of the Gershwin Room on Rockwiz - tonight you can smell backed up urinals while you wait in vain at the (stupidly expensive) bar.
Lucas is in full rock dandy mode, right down to his leopard skin gloves. Most of it will be shed by the end of the set though - the brocade coat and silk scarf are too restricting - leaving him in sweaty singlet and tight red jeans, wielding his battered back-up guitar through the encores, instead of the shiny white Gretsch.
But that’s all to come, as they launch proceedings with the irresistible clang and drive of ‘TV Glue’. It’s followed by a wide trawl through the back catalogue - and what a back catalogue it is. ‘Degenerate Boy’ is still the smartest, most swaggering low-life celebration ever written. And the sentiments of ‘Suck Suck’ are present in a million punk rock tunes, but never framed quite like this, nor are they still played with such uncompromised passion.
The primal boogie of ‘Oxford Street Nick’ has some of the oldies down the front in a frenzy - Melbourne personalities Julian Wu and Kev Lobotomy are shaking their shaggy grey manes in unison. ‘I Don’t Wanna Go Out’ is dedicated to those who have chosen - who still choose - to stay home, while ‘Dipstick’ is for Rilen.
The final encore, a much-yelled for ‘Delinquent Cars’, is played at the same maddening slightly slow pace as the recorded version. Lucas is grimacing as he plays through severe hand cramps, and clearly has nothing left. It feels vampiric to take so much from three people and an hour or so of music, but my, it also feels good.
by Trevor Block
