The Gin Club

Ric's. Mention the name to those who frequent Brisbane's Valley and you'll be met with either love or hate. There’s no middle ground. It’s beloved by indie kids for its upstairs DJs on weekend nights and loathed by the ever-growing list of local bands reportedly banned for perceived indiscretions against the venue and/or its management (although that list has apparently been erased). But for better or worse, Ric's is a Brisbane institution.

In recent months, word filtered through the local scene that it'd been purchased by neighbouring pub RG, which again elicited a perfectly divisive response: outrage and fear that the Valley's dirtiest indie-meat market would be gentrified to appeal to middle-aged weirdos, or apathy and bemusement amounting to little more than “good riddance”.

Despite the change of ownership, not much has changed. The new owner, Les Pullos, clearly understands that the space is prime real estate in both reputation and location. Much maligned it may be, but few venues in the area promote live music like Ric's. It hosts free entertainment most nights of the week, with bands given the chance to get paid for their art and build their fanbases the old-fashioned way: via word of mouth. And so at a night titled “Ric's Revival”, we visit the venue to eyeball the new wallpaper, sample the new sound system, and watch another Brisbane institution play here for the first time in years.

The Gin Club meld many musical brains into a single entity that traverses rock, folk and alt-country. Their 2008 double album, Junk, featured the input of nine skilled songwriters, though tonight they perform as a five-piece. They air Junk cuts 'Ten Paces Away', 'Days', and 'You, Me & The Sea', as well as songs from their forthcoming fourth album Death Wish.

It's a shambolic performance, though, and little of it is any fault of the band. Frontman Ben Salter’s instrument continually cuts out during the first few songs, including a reading of ‘Drug Flowers’ which, in the end, is largely delivered sans guitar. Likewise, cellist Bridget Lewis is all but inaudible, until they realise she’s sharing the same direct input as Salter. Dan Mansfield's keyboard is pressed against the venue's front window, his view of the beer garden obstructed by a window full of gig posters; while whoever handles the bass - sometimes Mansfield, sometimes singer/guitarist Conor Macdonald - leans against the back wall and tries to avoid copping a guitar headstock in the face.

In effect, it’s a cruel joke to enlist one of the city's most popular - and most populated - rock bands to play a room where few more than 50 can squeeze in at any one time. And we’re mostly laughing together, even the overworked sound technician, who regularly scrambles between the desk and stage to fix levels and equipment. Despite broken strings and bloodied digits, the band soldier on through more new material including ‘Shake Hands At The End Of The Day’, which might be their catchiest rock song yet. Salter chooses a solo cover of a Big Star song in tribute to Alex Chilton, though, owing to the standing-room-only policy, his bandmates opt to stay on stage.

Junk epic ‘Gas Guzzler’ closes the show, which Salter jokes has been his first one sober in “about 15 years”. As for Ric’s, its revival is complete, although as one Gin Club member quipped mid-set: “Nothing works, nothing's new."

by Andrew McMillen