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Rip It Up, Issue 14, 1 August 1978, Page 16

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Tys van Leer, Hello Sailor, Schtung. Auckland Town Hall Schtung were simply Schtung. There is no way to describe what they sound like, but you can count on them always sounding much the same. Up on the Town Hall stage, battling a sound system as grim as any turned on in the Town Hall this year, they still turned out note-perfect renditions of the bulk of the songs from their debut album passing up the chance to plug their new one, but obviously impressing the majority of the audience.

In an evening obviously designed for the technoflash fans, the next act, Hello Sailor, in their farewell to Auckland, were a little out of their element. Where Schtung might be described as restful, Sailor went for the throat.

With Graham Brazier’s leather trousers, and a smear of nasty rock and roll, largely culled from their new record, they may have

Rough Justice Island of Real A good, cooking crew Rough Justice. They play solid rock and roll, none too subtle for the most part, but who’s complaining? The band is strong instrumentally, although there are no virtuosi, but the spotlight must fall to Rick Bryant. Bryant is an archetypal hood, black tee shirt and all. Barrel-chested and sullenlooking, he dominates. Without him, the band would lack focus. He’s a fine singer and plays a bleating saxophone. The material is essentially rhythm and

been a little too strong for the stomachs of those who had come to see Tys van Leer. Nonetheless, they put the other acts of the evening pretty firmly in their place. When van Leer spoke about rock and roll later, it seemed a little hollow beside the real thing, Sailor-style. And, most important of all, they left Auckland begging for an encore. Tys van Leer, the much-touted star of the show, thrilled most of the audience and bored me rigid. He alternated between interminably 'progressive' four chord frauds and the odd Focus number to wake up the stalls. With the backing musicians huddled over their charts, it was all too much like a supercharged Henry Mancini concert for me. Tui Timoti just proved once again that he should get out and play some jazz rather than waste his time on the occasional solo in some big band, and the rest of the band played what was set down in front of them like good boys. Don’t get me wrong. If you are a Focus fan, or something similar, you would have loved Tys, just like 750 others in the Town Hall. But you just wouldn’t have much excuse for calling it rock and roll. Francis Stark

blues, drawing on tunes by Aretha Franklin, Chuck Berry, Fats Domino, Muddy Waters and the Rolling Stones. Dylan’s “Ballad of a Thin Man” was a brave, and effective, choice. The highlight for me was a slowburning version of “The Thrill is Gone” with the band smouldering for chorus after chorus until Bryant emerged from the bandroom, beer bottle in hand, to launch into a heart-felt vocal. You may have seen Rough Justice’s bus around town. If not, watch for it. It’s worth tailing. Ken Williams

Misex The Windsor Misex are Steve Gilpin (vocals and new punko image), Kevin Stanton (guitar and psychotic stare), Don Martin (bass and bare feet), Murray Burns (keyboards and collegiate blazer) and Richard Hodgkinson (drums and very old leather jacket). Their nucleus is from Fragments of Time, their image New Wave with a nod to the Old, mainly through an Alice Cooper-style hanging sequence that climaxes their stage act, and a splendid rendering of Joe Walsh's “Meadows.” Their first two brackets are other people’s material, except for a poetic little introductory monologue by Stanton. They play the best known of Costello, Mink De Ville and Thin Lizzy and throw in a dynamite shot of Graham Parker’s “Stick To Me’’ for good measure.

The third set of the night is their own material, the centrepiece being a concept work entitled "Camera Kaze”. An absorbing piece, with each song revolving around a central theme of movie freaks discussing their favourite flicks. Other numbers like “High Class Dame’’ and “The Man Who Dies Every Day’’ (forgive me if that last title is wrong) show considerable songwriting assets, and from ths vantage point it seems even better work will be produced in the future. The reincarnation of Steve Gilpin is a pleasure to see. He’s left the days of Studio One and hairy-chested Tom Jones-style ballad singing behind. On stage he exudes confidence, and his fine reading of Willy de Ville’s “Mixed Up, Shook Up Girl” confirms his status as a highly proficient rock singer. Visually, it’s Stanton who grabs the attention, looking lean and mean and carrying his guitar like a Colt '45. A tighter or better-rehearsed band would be hard to find. It’s not often you see the band pogoing instead of the audience. And they never miss a beat. Misex are a highly addictive way of having a good time. They’re shortly off to ply their trade across the Tasman, and should be seen by local punters without delay. But please, Steve, howzabout giving your Elvis Costello records another listen? The line goes: “They call her Natasha, when she looks like Elsie.” Duncan Campbell

Gavin Nannestad Island of Real Instrumentation / electronics / 2 synthesizers plus speakers plus tape machine plus loop plus video monitor (unfocused) / loop / unfocused. Music / sound textures / unstructured? / random / loop / random structures / indeterminism / music in pieces / loop / pieces / 4 ‘prepared’ plus 1 impromptu plus 1 borrowed. Participants / Nannestad plus 10 audience plus 1 cat. We perform Cage in “Silence” / loop / mostly anyway / spoon rattles / whispers / feet scrape / steps / door opening / closes. He performs “Obscure Beach” / taped waves / keyboard hands / machinery rebels /

Hard Rain, Bob Dylan Bob Dylan TV2 There is a point in the rise of a musical superpower where reviews of what they have done is pretty much irrelevant. By the time you have been around for seventeen or eighteen years, have more money than you could decently ever spend, and a band of fanatical followers, it simply doesn't matter what some upstart with a typewriter says about your latest effort. When Bob Dylan made his television special, Hard Rain, there was quite a queue of the typewriter wielders who got stuck into it and I don’t imagine that it mattered a damn to him or to the devotees who watched it. And in some ways, that was the point of the special. It conformed to none of the rules of onehour musicals on TV none of those formulated through endless re-runs of the Andy Williams show anyway. The sound was the roughest possible, rather than the silkiest, the camera angles were scarcely flattering, the audience were demonstrably not having the time of their lives in the non-stop drizzle. But what did you expect from Bob Dylan? The day that Bob Dylan starts making 'good television’ to please the tastes of the media critics is the day he will be slagged for selling out. Until then, you might as well settle back and make the best of it you can. Francis Stark

tape disgorged / gathered in 1 hand (as earlier gathered cat) / other plays / “Time to disentangle” / loop / his ideas. loop. Some potential / as yet fragmented / unlearned technique / un-read synth. manual? / un-explored range / un-remarkable tonalities / un-inhibited confidence/ loop/ mis-placed / missed. Peter Thomson