LIVE

Rip It Up, Issue 144, 1 July 1989, Page 32

LIVE

POISON Melbourne Tennis Stadium, July 1. Opening act on the Australian tour were young metal act Roxus. The singer is a screamer from the Jimmy Barnes school. They were attheir best on their - single ‘Stand Back’ and a cover version of Free's 1970 classic ‘All Right Now". In recent videos Poison have dropped the glam makeup and hairspray images of their album sleeves and shown the guys live. On stage, there’s no makeup — in fact they use cosmetics on a far granderscale—an elaborate stage set, fireworks, moving lighting rigs, “pyro” (explosions) and confetti cannons. ' Poison explode on fo stage and motor full speed ahead through three uptempo songs from their appropriately titled Look What the Cat Dragged In debut album, then another song about boys and their toys, ‘Back to the Rocking Horse’, where great backing vocals evoke a 60s Californian pop sound — not unlike the David Lee Roth band. ; However cute or coolsinger Bret Michaels and Bobby Dall try to look —

it's CC DeVille who commands the Poison stage. He no longer hides behind the glam facade —he's a manic, noise-boy on guitar— one hell of aguitarist and looks like a cabbage patch rock star. ; After a brief change in pace (a ballad)it's time for ‘Fallen Angel’ and ‘Look But You Can’t Touch’ — there's echoes of Cheap Trick and Elton Johnin this band'’s metalbut CC DeVille doesn’t mind, he's so animated he shows us he

can leap (two feetin the air at once — very clever CC), just like Donald Duck. After Rikki's drum solo it’s time for the “lighter” song, Bret Michaels starts it alone on acoustic guitar and the crowd get their Bics out for ‘Every Rose Has Its Thorn'. CC brings his twin-necked guitar outso Bret doesn't upstage him. Thenit's T-Rex style ‘Love on the Rocks’ before CC DeVille solos on fender then flamenco. CC overdoes his solo (he's that sort of guy) and the band - return to save the day with 'Your Mama Don’t Dance’. : : During the two solos the other guys have gone back stage and put on something “thoughtful”. Bret s quite a fashion plate and even Bobby Dall knows how to choose the right colour sneakers. Will nobody help CC—he now has capped off his state of disrepair with a giant purple baseball cap and an iridescent lime green guitar. Goodone! - : Then my favourite song ‘Nothin’ But A Good Time', the one with that lovely line— / raise afoast...—not a veiled food reference but one of those nice average bloke / workingman sentiments. A real rock anthem, people will cover this song in ten years time. Then with a boom, fireworksand a bang, they go— returning only briefly forthe song that gotthem where they are today, Talk Dirty to Me'. Everybody knows the words. Time for the acrobatics, bloody clever! Iwon't say too much — and then they're gone. CCislastto go, carried off by their wrestler size minder. Later as the band leave the backstage party, the minder is still cleaning up afterthe boys. He - follows them, striding purposefully into the cold evening air— a guitar under one arm a skateboard underthe other. MURRAY CAMMICK TACKHEAD 5 i HEADLESS CHICKENS Powerstation, June 16 The Headless Chickens started from anunenviable position. Not only were they supporting a band repeatedly described as “mighty”, “legendary”, efc, in front of a crowd containing a few glossy-but-vacuous nightclub types who'd probably never seen a New Zealand before in their lives, but they were also following an hour of PA shaking live dub by Adrian Sherwood

and Gary Clail. : These things considered, they did well to concenrate on their most viciously angular funk. They started wiuth ‘Crash Hot' and the pace rarely let up from there on. The entire set was accompanied by stream of neurosis visuals, although the effect was rather spoiled by the sheer number of band members cluttering up the stage. A new song called ‘Revolution’ (I think) is the most violent thing they've done since ‘Cyclic’, and frivia fans may be interested to know that Rupert made a funny noise on an accordian on ‘Body Blow'. : After another does of Richter-scale threatening industrial dub and afew minutes of concentrated hyperbole from Clail, the New York factionof Tackhead appeared on stage. Doug Wimbish curtly informed us that they're “about as friendly as a fuckin’ hand grenade”, and the machine began to move. Anyone who came expecting their “musical horizons” to be broadened would have left disappointed. Tonight atleast, Tackhead were an almost unnaturally tight funk-rock band, human music harder than anything computers - .couldimagine. Nothing less, but definitely nothing more. Atworst (an interminable version of ‘Hey Joe') they sounded uncannily like overpaid session musos flaunting their technical conjuring tricks. Most of the time, though, even the most cynical among us couldn't help butbe caught up in the whirl of pure body-popping (asin entrails all over the wall), head-splitting sound. Wimbish was the natural centre of attention, attacking four, five, and six string basses with a contempt most people reserve for serial killers. Skip MacDonald’s wall of Hendrix guitar and Keith le Blanc's huge drum sound intensified the hysteria, and Bernard Fowlerlooked cool and sang a bit. Those of us who couldn’t or wouldn't become “party muthafuckas” on command felt like the social retards we were obviously infended to. MATTHEW HYLAND THESEWILDING WAYS ADAM Clubßoma, July 5 These Wilding Ways and Adam are Auckland’s latest exponents of one of New Zealand's greatest indigenous music forms — guitar pop. It's something locals have always been very good at, - and these boys show definite promise. Ofthe two, These Wilding Ways take the more creative approach, their influences being a lot less obviousand - more varied. They blend all sorts of

sound into the mix, hints of blues and country weave in and out of the more traditional jangling. ' Where These Wilding Ways opted for subtelty, both structurally and stylistically, Adam took a much more vigorous approach. Finesse was thrown into the wind, but they had fun—as anyone who dresses like John Travolta’s hair-styling team and makes ‘Mamma Mia’ sound somewhere between the Ramones and the Rezillos should. It's good to see two quite different approaches to guitars that show the serious southerners don't

have the genre totally to themselves. KIRK GEE : THE COLTRANES Rising Sun,June 10 At 9:45 on the evening of Saturday, June 10, there were about 20 people in the upstairs bar of the Rising Sun, including band, staff and Rip It Up writer. The Coltranes, who have been playing together under various names for about eight years, begin their set with an announcement that there’s no toilet paper where you'd expectto find it, but plenty on stage. Thankfully that's the last trace of “novelty” to be heard this evening, apart from the bassist's brief solo rendition of Sonic Youth’s ‘Love Her All The Time' when the guitarist changes a string. The Coltranes are a three-piece from Wellington whose obscurity is thoroughly undeserved. They're very tight and accessible, playing what might pass for a much more energetic revision of early Wah! orlate Joy Division if it wasn't for the gallons of liquid noise the guitarist pours over the rhythm section’s skeletal structures. Their control of dynamics is excellent andtheirsongs are neveras strightfoward as they might seem to be. The vocalist’s evidently heartfelt cries occasionally resemble those of Simple Mind Jim Kerr’s, and | do wish someone would steal his digital delay, but the overall effectiveness of the Coltranes as a propulsive force is undisputable. They should be setting Siren alight

instead of battling with the squalor of the Rising Sun. MATTHEWHYLAND ; RANDY TRAVIS THEWARRATAHS Logan Campbell Centre, June 20 : Randy Travis is from the conservative end of the new country, morewool jerseys and log fires than whiskey and diesel. He more than proved that with - his medley of Hank Williams (Snr) songs, corny jokes and faint air of self-satisfaction. Either of the last two could have beenirritating by themselves. Fortunately he had some formidable good points. First, he’s one of the best live singers I've heard anywhere. A tremendous voice, big and fat and smooth, with bass richness that was hardto believe, accompaniedor unaccompanied. And a greatband. Big, lots of players, none of them working upso much asa bead of sweat, but playing fiercely and well, both together and on solos. Songs with routine country lyrics, butsome unexpected twists in the tunes. Butthere were drawbacks: the crass ending with a patriotic song. The Warratahs stopping whenthey were only just getting good. Confidence and good songs required. Overall, a better than good night. The audience liked it even more than | did.

RICHARD JAMES