Roadhouse Flowers Roadie Mike lights up

Rip It Up, Issue 204, 1 August 1994, Page 26

Roadhouse Flowers

Roadie Mike lights up

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Yay! On the road with a band — kilometres, takeaways, and a thousand smashed motel rooms. I’ve been waiting fears for this one, and right now I can’t think of a setter band to go with. This is the Dead Flowers : ourth nationwide tour and they’re taking with :hem the best batch of songs they’ve ever written, rhe first leg will cover Palmerston North, Wanganui and New Plymouth, where the Flowers will be joined by Wellington’s Head Like A Hole. The starting point is lead singer Bryan Bell’s flat n Commerce Street. Remarkably he’s up and about already as is Conan Richards, Dead Flowers’ long-time roadie/doorman. Mott The Hoople is on the stereo and no one has eaten breakfast, rumbling stomachs all but drown out ‘All The Young Dudes.’ Guitarists Riqi Hadfield and Damon Newton stumble in, Damon’s carrying a suitcase that looks packed for six months not four days. Accompanying them is Tony from Auckland punkers Nothing At All, the support band for the entire tour. Now the Dead Flowers wouldn’t be the well oiled machine they are today without their bassist Dave James. From his flat next door, with little thanks, he acts as the band’s manager, minder, nurse and surrogate father. A job that requires him to single-handedly organise tours, feed hungry mouths in small towns and get Bryan out of bed. Drummer Rob Dollars arrives behind the wheel of the tour wagon. We’re travelling in a shitcoloured eight-seater customised Hi-Ace. It’s very cool, there’s switches for everything and an electronic sun-roof. Unfortunately the tour party consists of ten people so it’s gonna be a bit of a squash. Mike the roadie, Craig the lighting man and Steve the sound guy left town earlier this morning in a truck packed with the PA and band gear so that has lessened the hassles of leaving. On the road! Dave’s behind the wheel and we get 100 metres up Queen Street before Riqi remembers that his suitcase is back in Fort Street. Our first U-turn. Paul (drums) and Dion (bass) from Nothing At All are waiting opposite Aotea Square, after a quick pick-up we’re off. Just like in Goodbye Pork Pie the first stop is

Pokeno. This pit-stop sets the tone for our weekend diet — pies, beer, doughnuts and Milo bars. Dave takes the road to Taupo at speed. Conversation turns to the first Dead Flowers tour in 1992 — 24 gigs in 30 days. It was, by all accounts, a wild one as all five Flowers were single at the time. You can probably guess the rest but a phrase about rabbits comes to mind. These days three are practically married so feeling entrepreneurial I make S2O bets with two of them that they can’t remain faithful throughout the tour. Payup date is set for the final gig in Whangarei, late July. Arriving in Taupo proves a relief. Cramped muscles are stretched and empty stomachs filled. Riqi scores the first of many op-shop bargains that will turn the van into a mobile wardrobe as the weekend progresses. The last leg of the trip to Palmerston sees Rob Dollars — Dead Flower’s very own Aryton Senna — at the wheel, therefore it doesn’t take long. But as it gets darker and visibility is increasingly impaired, the vote is for Conan to assume responsibility for our lives. Rob swaps mad driving for tales of the mad people he met as an orderly at Beachaven hospital. Did you know fingerpainting can be done with stuff other than paint? The Albert Motor Lodge is the venue for

tonight’s show. HLAH have already arrived and are drinking tea (crazy man, crazy!) in the surprisingly comfortable, if sickeningly brown, motel rooms. There’s almost two hours to spare before Nothing At All play so Bryan, Damon and I spend the time watching Beverly Hills and wondering how David could get addicted to speed after just one hit. Damon starts tuning his guitars which prompts Bryan to pick up an ax and play a note-perfect version of Bon Jovi’s ‘Dead or Alive.’ Damon’s har-

monies make it a special performance and I feel immensely privileged to have been a witness. The crowd is already queuing at the door as we round the corner to the entrance. Bryan says there’s no better sight. The layout of the Albert’s main room has been decided by a very wise person. It’s a long room with the stage at one end and the bar at the other, access to both is unhindered. When Nothing At All hit the boards the crowd numbers 150 and they are more than enthusiastic.

Nothing At All play mostly short, sharp, shocking punk tunes. Tony has a cool line in stage presence. He pushes his stomach out as far as it will go, rests his guitar on it and thrashes the shit out of the strings. A tuneless tune called ‘Grand Central’ and a social commentary of sorts titled ‘TV Generation’ receive much applause and the trio appear lifted accordingly.

By the completion of the set the crowd has doubled, and after a short break Dead Flowers enter from stage right and without asking permission blow our heads off. The first song is ‘Some Brain Ride’ from the new Sweetfish album. It starts slow for the first four bars then swings into a killer guitar riff that introduces the chorus. It’s the kind of song that just sucks you in and you can’t help but let the banging of your head punctuate every soaring chord and cymbal crash. Those upfront are just as receptive to the new tunes (‘Not Ready’, ‘Gothic’, ‘Home’) as they are the older (‘Plastic’, ‘Be Someone’) and Mike is kept extra busy keeping divers off the stage. By the final song Bryan’s voice is cracking a little and he breaks into a huge grin as Riqi yells “you’re flat!" across the stage.

Head Like A Hole get their turn just after midnight. This is the first time I’ve seen the new safari style and they look very dapper. The primal sounding ‘Spanish Goat Dancer’ really pumps and the front row all chant along with Booga’s Indian-style chant. The moshing becomes even more frantic as they speed through ‘1 Pound 2 Pound’, and ‘Faster Hooves’. Booga changes into a flattering blue mini for the last two numbers but it’s

not as cool looking as the suits. Immediately as they leave the stage a fight breaks out between a girl who’s been blocking views by standing on stage and a girl whose view was blocked. It’s a fitting end and both land a couple of hefty blows before they’re separated by a bouncer. Good stuff! I’m looking around for familiar faces but surprisingly Riqi is already in bed (by himself), Dave is off counting money, and Bryan and Damon are heading straight back to their room (“to get out of moving gear.”). I‘m speechless, this is not what rock ‘n’ roll’s all about. Shouldn’t they be out, dying bloated in a bath, entertaining rock sluts or at least downing whiskey till they can’t see. Instead Rob and I join Bryan and Damon in room number 22 and watch the 70s road movie The Vanishing Point until they kick us out. The following morning HLAH’s manager Gerald Dwyer greets us with the news that the Wanganui City Council have closed down tonight’s venue as it’s “a fire risk.” The real reason we discover later is because Wanganui is on a huge public relations kick this weekend. The French rugby team are playing a New Zealand Invitation XV and the Council (who get their information from The NZ Truth) don’t want HLAH, “who masturbate and perform oral sex on stage”, anywhere near the city limits. While Gerald and Dave arrange an alternative venue, we spend the morning eating in the main street where Riqi, Bryan and Damon are stopped by autograph hunters. A final round-up of band members is made at the Lodge and we head to Wanganui, arriving midafternoon still not knowing if the bands will get to play. Sanity prevails, there’s no roadblock, no armed police and the owner of Moose

McGillicudys has ottered his pub as a venue. Ironically it’s directly across the road from the Rutland Street warehouse where the show was originally to go ahead. Sitting around while Dead Flowers soundcheck provides an opportunity to check out the venue. They’re real big on the Texan theme, lots of deer heads hang from the walls beside horse saddles and cowboy hats. The weirdest thing though is a perfectly preserved Satellite Spies gig poster pinned to the wall. Rob shimmys up for a beer and tells of his vocal debut on the Bside of the next Dead Flowers single ‘Home.’ It’s called ‘Anyway’ and he’s very proud. " “Bet you thought I was just the cute little drummer.” Later Riqi remains true to the game and invites four Wanganui girls out for a drink before the show. Not surprisingly they trail him through the

door of Moose’s just after nine. While we wait for Nothing At All to begin the pub manager tells Gerald that “if any band swears on stage the plug will be pulled." Once they start I notice something I didn’t pick up the night before, Nothing At All play under bright white lights rather than the coloured displays the others prefer. It’s a good trick as it makes the performance appear all the sharper. The standout tonight is the song ‘Nothing At All.’ Beginning with a reggae riff it stops suddenly and dives into a classic 1-2-3-4 punk work-out. The set tonight is extra fast and the audience are bouncing like mad, suitably warmed up for the treat that is to follow.

Which is, without question, the greatest Dead Flowers performance I’ve ever seen. Everything gelled like superglue. The sound was perfect, the vibe heaven-like, and it made your big toe just shoot up in your boot! Rob takes control on stage by joining songs together before any momentum is lost and Bryan's voice has never sounded better. Again the new tunes prove popular, ‘Not Ready’ in particular inspires a round of especially unco-ordinated moshing. Everyone goes apeshit over ‘Plastic’ and it’s funny to watch punters make up lyrics to

songs they’ve never heard before. Damon takes over lead vocals for the speedy ‘What You Do You Take Me For’ — it’s an awesome song and the energy in the room increases two-fold. The blissed-out looks on the faces at the front show how much they’re enjoying this spectacle and they’re only matched by the bands expressions and my own. Like all good things it comes to an end much too soon.

For HLAH’s set I stand side stage so miss out on the full frontal attack but this is more than made up for by seeing Hidee the drummer at close range. The man is not human, nothing made of flesh and blood could be that precise, that in control or that beat perfect. It’s quite obvious he doesn’t dig wearing clothes but nudity was also banned by the pub owners. The frantic ‘That’s The Way That Things Go’ is a crowd pleaser, but most don’t know how to react to ‘Velvet Kushion’, a slow burner of a tune sung by Date while Booga drums and Hidee plucks a gat. After the gig everyone goes their separate ways. Meeting up at McGillicudy’s the following morning, Riqi and Rob treat us to a fascinating tale of the “wicked hospitality” they received at the hands of two Wanganui lasses. And there’s evidence! Each is carrying a packed lunch, better still, all the food groups are represented. The drive to New Plymouth is another hell ride. Yep, Rob’s driving like a demon once more and one foray into oncoming traffic is particularly exciting. I get accused of “digging for dirt” in order to initiate a scandal. Yes it’s true, but I make out like I don’t understand.

Arriving in New Plymouth we head straight for Burundi’s and spend the afternoon drinking too much coffee while listening to Musical Youth.

And to complete a rock ‘n’ roll day after soundcheck we eat at a vegetarian restaurant. Despite a frantic search there’s no sign of anything that goes “Moo!” when you stick a fork into it. Section 8 is the location for tonight’s show, again about 350 are herded through the door. Nothing At All, who are “very receptive to marijuana after the show”, play their best gig of the trip and they don’t deserve the indifference of the crowd. Neither do Dead Flowers. Admittedly they suffered from a bad mix but they still played fiercely. Much to my delight they include ‘Same Shit’ from Sweetfish in the set and a brand new number ‘Feels So Low’ also pleases. Then the heckling begins, real clever stuff like “Fuck

Off!” and the like. Riqi returns the favour with a well aimed can and some spit and they depart. Later Brian Wafer of Ima Hitt Records tells me Dead Flowers are just “too laidback” for a New Plymouth crowd, I think the audience were just trying to be cool.

Head Like A Hole do their stuff and the crowd respond in typical fashion. Some of the stage-div-ing is spectacular but the most impressive acrobatics is performed by HLAH’s saxophonist Steve Wolfe. With a head full of mushrooms he takes a step back, and completes a backward roll with a degree of difficulty of at least 8.9. All is quiet after the show. Rob and Bryan headed back to Auckland with Wildside Records boss Murray Cammick, the rest of us overdose on coffee, TV and sleep. Straight back to Auckland (“A shit-hole covered in smog.” — Tony) the following morning. Four days are rounded off nicely with a communal dinner at the Mexican Cafe and a great episode of Melrose Place.

The following week while;I grind nine to five Dead Flowers and Nothing At All leave town to see the country. From the accounts given Dead Flowers were on their best behaviour (“DF are saints!” — Dave James) and the real rebels were Mike and Steve, who according to Bryan “drank and smoked enough for all of us.” Down country the wild south lived up to its name, in Greymouth the bands were greeted by fifteen members from the local chapter of white power. Always the comedian, Riqi takes off his shirt halfway through the gig to reveal ‘Brown Power’ scrawled across his torso in black felt pen. “Ya faggots!” yells Mr Skinhead. “Well come and fuck me in the ass then!” demands Mr Bell.

But no Mr Skinhead rebuffs Mr Bell’s advances and instead chooses to insert toilet paper into his compadre’s poopshoot and then sets it on fire. Hooray! A political statement! More tom foolery in Gisborne. Dead Flowers are rocking out (as they are prone to doing) on the footpath outside Beat Box Records. This is against the law according to District Council Inspector Stewart Wohnsiedler who calls the Police.

However local DF fans are quick to inform the constabulary, “Fuck off or we’ll kill you.” After plenty of discussion no charges are laid. But this is still a big deal in Gisborne. ‘Band cause rukus in main street’ is the second news story on local radio the next morning right after ‘Body found in bay.’ The tour party returns relatively unscathed for an all-ages show at Auckland’s Powerstation on Friday 22 July. The early start time throws me completely and I’m surprised to find the Dead Flowers well into it upon my arrival. The poor turn out compared to their last show here is sad viewing but the faithful upfront are digging every minute. Tony joins the band on stage for an incendiary ‘What Do You Take Me For’ and they end with an epic version of the Kinks’ ‘Lola.’

The final show of the tour takes place at the Forum in Whangarei the following night. Relunctantly I hand over the 40 dollars I owe Bryan and Damon, I’ve learnt my lesson. Nothing At All repeat the blinder they played in New Plymouth. Tony chews up and spits out a couple of hecklers up the front with natural aplomb and just when I think they’re not going to play it they close with my favourite, ‘Nothing At AIL’ Dead Flowers get on up and Riqi’s the first to speak.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to welcome you here to the Forum for the Dead Flowers cabaret and floorshow. Nice to see so many May-or-ees in the audience.”

The Dead Flowers seem suited to smallish venues like this, no offence naturally, it’s just they appear to perform with added energy when the front row is that much closer. And even though I’ve heard them countless times I still can’t get over how good the new Dead Flowers songs are. Tonight’s show is another cool one and to top it off Rob kicks his drums over for the first time in ages. Members of both bands are interviewed after the gig for the forthcoming first issue of a local magazine called Krazine. The interviewer’s only question appears to be, “Do you guys smoke dope . . . yeah, who doesn’t.” You might expect a huge party to end a tour of this scale, but no it’s straight to Auckland and straight to bed for most of the band. The end . . . for awhile. The Dead Flowers second album Sweetfish is in the shops now and that means they’ll be undertaking another tour real soon. It’s a pleasant thought and so is the fact that Riqi didn’t hit me the entire trip for calling him “Rick-wee.”

JOHN RUSSELL