Some of the shit has sprouted in roses
Basil has been a fan of The Wildhearts for half his life, and they were the first band he ever saw live - he was fourteen. Although they had a few minor "hits" in England in the 1990s and appeared on Top of the Pops a few times, they've been mostly unheard of elsewhere in the world. Influenced by all the classic and punk rock staples, they formed in Newcastle, UK and released their first album in 1993. They unleashed onto the British charts a heavy incarnation of the "alternative" music that was taking over the world at the time, managing to work some great pop hooks in along with the crunching guitar riffs.
Since then, they've had countless line-up changes and some hiatuses, usually due to substance abuse and recovery. The band's founder/songwriter/singer, Ginger, remained the only constant (and today, original guitarist, CJ, has returned). After bad experiences with The Wildhearts' record label, he formed his own label, and although they get no radio or TV play, the band has been successful enough to keep themselves going in the UK. Ginger wrote about the band and their lives on thewildhearts.com, and noted that he'd always wanted to tour in Australia, but they'd never had enough money to manage it.
On Thursday night, The Wildhearts played their first ever show in Australia, in Sydney, at the Gaelic Theatre. We were very curious as to who would make up the audience, considering you can not buy their records here, they get no promotion and no one has heard of them. We guessed that it would be all thirty to forty-something British ex-pats in attendance, and we were not too far off.
We lined up behind the first young leather- and PVC-clad woman there, who was Scottish. We exchanged a few friendly words with her about the band. A group of Australian thirty-something men lined up behind us and talked loudly (and obnoxiously) about music.
"It was so hilarious. At work, we had a competition to see who could make the best CD of songs that everyone knows, but no one wants to admit they know. You know, like "MMMBop" and "Ice Ice Baby" (Author's note: "Oice Oice Baby"). We put all five CDs on, and everyone who came in, you could see 'em all tryin' to pretend they didn't know the songs, but they couldn't help singin' along. Aw, it was hilarious. There was some of the worst stuff on these CDs. It really was hilarious. We couldn't stop laughing."
While we overheard this monologue, Basil noted that maybe this show would be better because it'd have less Australians in the audience. While I have chosen this country as my home and I find that's it's largely filled with kind and interesting people, I also find that Australians are obnoxious audiences. It seems an impossible feat to see a whole gig that isn't interrupted at some point by some drunk and/or inconsiderate Aussie who has to yell something stupid out, often containing an Aussie expression, at the performer and totally break the mood they have created with their music. Our favourite was directed at Damien Rice: "Onyaaa Daymo!". (If any Americans reading can figure out what that means, I'll give you some Obnoxious Aussie Cred Points.) At one of my first Ben Lee shows, there was a man standing next to me who kept yelling, "BEN LEEEEE!" repeatedly, through all the soft and quiet acoustic songs. At the recent Martha Wainwright show, a girl shouted out, asking Martha if she was pregnant as soon as she walked onto the stage, and repeated the question throughout the concert. What makes these outbursts even more frustrating is that you can tell that the characters in question feel they're just being friendly.
Once we were inside the venue, there were British accents all around us. Two fifty-something English parents and their Australian teenage kid, wearing a Wildhearts shirt, stood behind us. Later, just before the Wildhearts came out, the father remarked that he's been "waiting a long time for this", and the mother told Basil that when she inherited some money when her Nan died, she spent it to take a trip home to England to see The Wildhearts. All around us people summarized their Wildhearts stories, and spoke excitedly about seeing the band. For most of the Australians in attendance, it was an experience they'd been waiting at least a decade for. The guy standing next to me (who Basil nicknamed "Iggy" because of his skinny form, long hair and "New York" t-shirt with the sleeves cut off) was a Brit who'd been in Sydney for just two days and was staying for a total of three weeks.
Their enthusiasm for seeing The Wildhearts almost matched their lack of enthusiasm for seeing the opening bands. Everyone except Basil, myself and Iggy seemed to have an invisible barrier set up about twenty feet from the stage, so that the whole front of the room was almost empty until it was time for The Wildhearts to come out. It was a shame, because the first act, Melbourne's The Devil Rock Four, were impressive. While they visually seemed mismatched - there was a hippie playing lead guitar, a metalhead playing drums, a rock scenester on bass and a fairly non-descript guy on vocals and guitar, sonically they really came together and played energetic, loud rock and roll. We nodded our heads along, Iggy danced, and one drunk Scottish guy used the empty space in the room to run and twirl around. He ran up to the stage after their set to tell them how amazing they were and shake their hands before they left.
He did the same for the next band, Muscle Car, who are also from Melbourne. It came to light later in the evening that the frontman of Muscle Car was responsible for organizing the tour and getting The Wildhearts to finally come to Australia, so for that we have to thank him. The band itself was a bit punkier and not quite as tight as The Devil Rock Four were, and now that I think back their music was pretty unmemorable. They were still passably enjoyable for the short time they played, although I got annoyed when the frontman spit water off the stage, straight into my water. Dude, you're Muscle Car, not David Bowie; I don't want your spit in my drink.
They did manage to coax some of the people from the shadows and further up toward the stage for their last song, and then everyone was ready for The Wildhearts. It was disappointing, but not surprising, that even by eleven at night, the venue was only about half-full, with 200-300 people. Everyone cheerfully sang "Don't Worry 'Bout Me", a secret song from the end of the album PHUQ, while they watched the roadies set up the guitars and amps.
The band finally emerged onto the stage, and without a word, blasted into the poppy intro riff of "Vanilla Radio", a short and catchy single with the sing-able chorus of "Where's my Elvis? Where's my Elvis?"* From then, they played a setlist of songs that I, as a second-hand fan, was not personally too familiar with, but that any seasoned Wildhearts fan would have been very pleased with. Six songs from the band's beloved first album, including the fun and furiously fast "Caffeine Bomb", a selection of singles like "Sick of Drugs" (my video) and "I Wanna Go Where the People Go" (two of my own favourites), a Warren Zevon cover in "Carmelita" and a few B-sides. Fans seem to love them for their B-sides, so it was by no means a snub of the well-known. The Wildhearts, who have never really had a single hit song, have managed to compile a long list of fan-favourite songs that span the catalogue of their material. For their fans, a lot of those B-sides stand alongside the songs they played on Top of the Pops, and indeed, one of them has been played on TotP.
That very song is the one that I shouted the name of during a quiet moment between songs. Having seen the setlist taped to the floor, we were disappointed that "Geordie in Wonderland" was not to be found. This is the song that is so loved by Wildhearts fans that Ginger doesn't have to bother singing it - the audience does it for him. It's a beautiful thing to watch on video so we were looking forward to participating at the gig. I even worked extra hard beforehand to learn the few lines of the lyrics toward the end of the song that I was unsure of. So I took a chance at being considered one of the Obnoxious, and yelled out the name. Instantly, three people to my right yelled in agreement. Ginger asked, "Geordie in Wonderland?" and everyone screamed. He played the opening and then decided the guitar was out of tune. He handed the guitar to a technician, stood at the microphone and started singing the song a capella. Everyone joined in (my video).
Throughout the whole night, the band demonstrated not only their musical skills as a group, but their enthusiasm and passion for playing music. Now that his drug-addled, misbehaving days are over,** all Ginger's energy goes into putting on a great performance. By the end of the night, his t-shirt was soaked with sweat, and his every move flung beads of sweat off his body, but he never stopped moving. The band bounced and danced the whole night; Ginger and bass player, Scott Sorry, synchronized their rock jumps together.
Ginger has always made it clear that he cares more about people being able to hear his music than he does about making money, even writing on the band's website that he'd rather people download his music illegally than not hear it at all (and perhaps this is testament that you shouldn't, because they don't make any money). I would be shocked to learn that the Wildhearts made any money, rather than lost it, as a result of this two-show tour of Australia. Ginger remarked that they're hoping to come back sometime next year, but we would all have to bring along one other person, so we could fill the venue. "I know tickets are expensive," he said, "But DVDs cost a fortune here, and we're better than any DVD!"
This is Ginger.
The band was lit almost exclusively from behind, and they never held still, so it was difficult to get clear shots.
There are a few more pictures here.
The crowd may have been small, but they were all in the spirit - singing and jumping along with every song. Backing vocals and musical interludes that were missing in the live setting were filled in by the audience. When Ginger's microphone fell off the stand at the beginning of "Suckerpunch", he signalled for the fans to start it for him, and they did. It was a room of people having a blast. The only minor disappointment came when the band finished up, said their goodbyes, and hadn't played the classic B-side, "29 x the Pain", which we could see was written on the setlist. The song is one of the band's most popular tracks; it pays tribute to all of Ginger's musical influences with 29 band references in the lyrics. Those of us at the front stuck around to cheer and yell and sing in an effort to get them back out, but once the tour manager had shooed us away for the fourth time, we gave in and accepted the situation. After such an energizing and fun show, it was hard to be too upset.
It worked out well for Basil and me anyway, because if they had played it, we would have missed the last train back home, which we caught with one minute to spare. That was the perfect ending to an already satisfying night.
* Commonly misheard by Wildhearts fan as "My Elvis wig! My Elvis wig!", Basil tells me.
** Ginger was kicked out of his first band, The Quireboys, for being too crazy. Another story goes that when Kerrang Magazine once printed an untrue story about The Wildhearts, Ginger went to their office and smashed all their equipment up.
Since then, they've had countless line-up changes and some hiatuses, usually due to substance abuse and recovery. The band's founder/songwriter/singer, Ginger, remained the only constant (and today, original guitarist, CJ, has returned). After bad experiences with The Wildhearts' record label, he formed his own label, and although they get no radio or TV play, the band has been successful enough to keep themselves going in the UK. Ginger wrote about the band and their lives on thewildhearts.com, and noted that he'd always wanted to tour in Australia, but they'd never had enough money to manage it.
On Thursday night, The Wildhearts played their first ever show in Australia, in Sydney, at the Gaelic Theatre. We were very curious as to who would make up the audience, considering you can not buy their records here, they get no promotion and no one has heard of them. We guessed that it would be all thirty to forty-something British ex-pats in attendance, and we were not too far off.
We lined up behind the first young leather- and PVC-clad woman there, who was Scottish. We exchanged a few friendly words with her about the band. A group of Australian thirty-something men lined up behind us and talked loudly (and obnoxiously) about music.
"It was so hilarious. At work, we had a competition to see who could make the best CD of songs that everyone knows, but no one wants to admit they know. You know, like "MMMBop" and "Ice Ice Baby" (Author's note: "Oice Oice Baby"). We put all five CDs on, and everyone who came in, you could see 'em all tryin' to pretend they didn't know the songs, but they couldn't help singin' along. Aw, it was hilarious. There was some of the worst stuff on these CDs. It really was hilarious. We couldn't stop laughing."
While we overheard this monologue, Basil noted that maybe this show would be better because it'd have less Australians in the audience. While I have chosen this country as my home and I find that's it's largely filled with kind and interesting people, I also find that Australians are obnoxious audiences. It seems an impossible feat to see a whole gig that isn't interrupted at some point by some drunk and/or inconsiderate Aussie who has to yell something stupid out, often containing an Aussie expression, at the performer and totally break the mood they have created with their music. Our favourite was directed at Damien Rice: "Onyaaa Daymo!". (If any Americans reading can figure out what that means, I'll give you some Obnoxious Aussie Cred Points.) At one of my first Ben Lee shows, there was a man standing next to me who kept yelling, "BEN LEEEEE!" repeatedly, through all the soft and quiet acoustic songs. At the recent Martha Wainwright show, a girl shouted out, asking Martha if she was pregnant as soon as she walked onto the stage, and repeated the question throughout the concert. What makes these outbursts even more frustrating is that you can tell that the characters in question feel they're just being friendly.
Once we were inside the venue, there were British accents all around us. Two fifty-something English parents and their Australian teenage kid, wearing a Wildhearts shirt, stood behind us. Later, just before the Wildhearts came out, the father remarked that he's been "waiting a long time for this", and the mother told Basil that when she inherited some money when her Nan died, she spent it to take a trip home to England to see The Wildhearts. All around us people summarized their Wildhearts stories, and spoke excitedly about seeing the band. For most of the Australians in attendance, it was an experience they'd been waiting at least a decade for. The guy standing next to me (who Basil nicknamed "Iggy" because of his skinny form, long hair and "New York" t-shirt with the sleeves cut off) was a Brit who'd been in Sydney for just two days and was staying for a total of three weeks.
Their enthusiasm for seeing The Wildhearts almost matched their lack of enthusiasm for seeing the opening bands. Everyone except Basil, myself and Iggy seemed to have an invisible barrier set up about twenty feet from the stage, so that the whole front of the room was almost empty until it was time for The Wildhearts to come out. It was a shame, because the first act, Melbourne's The Devil Rock Four, were impressive. While they visually seemed mismatched - there was a hippie playing lead guitar, a metalhead playing drums, a rock scenester on bass and a fairly non-descript guy on vocals and guitar, sonically they really came together and played energetic, loud rock and roll. We nodded our heads along, Iggy danced, and one drunk Scottish guy used the empty space in the room to run and twirl around. He ran up to the stage after their set to tell them how amazing they were and shake their hands before they left.
He did the same for the next band, Muscle Car, who are also from Melbourne. It came to light later in the evening that the frontman of Muscle Car was responsible for organizing the tour and getting The Wildhearts to finally come to Australia, so for that we have to thank him. The band itself was a bit punkier and not quite as tight as The Devil Rock Four were, and now that I think back their music was pretty unmemorable. They were still passably enjoyable for the short time they played, although I got annoyed when the frontman spit water off the stage, straight into my water. Dude, you're Muscle Car, not David Bowie; I don't want your spit in my drink.
They did manage to coax some of the people from the shadows and further up toward the stage for their last song, and then everyone was ready for The Wildhearts. It was disappointing, but not surprising, that even by eleven at night, the venue was only about half-full, with 200-300 people. Everyone cheerfully sang "Don't Worry 'Bout Me", a secret song from the end of the album PHUQ, while they watched the roadies set up the guitars and amps.
The band finally emerged onto the stage, and without a word, blasted into the poppy intro riff of "Vanilla Radio", a short and catchy single with the sing-able chorus of "Where's my Elvis? Where's my Elvis?"* From then, they played a setlist of songs that I, as a second-hand fan, was not personally too familiar with, but that any seasoned Wildhearts fan would have been very pleased with. Six songs from the band's beloved first album, including the fun and furiously fast "Caffeine Bomb", a selection of singles like "Sick of Drugs" (my video) and "I Wanna Go Where the People Go" (two of my own favourites), a Warren Zevon cover in "Carmelita" and a few B-sides. Fans seem to love them for their B-sides, so it was by no means a snub of the well-known. The Wildhearts, who have never really had a single hit song, have managed to compile a long list of fan-favourite songs that span the catalogue of their material. For their fans, a lot of those B-sides stand alongside the songs they played on Top of the Pops, and indeed, one of them has been played on TotP.
That very song is the one that I shouted the name of during a quiet moment between songs. Having seen the setlist taped to the floor, we were disappointed that "Geordie in Wonderland" was not to be found. This is the song that is so loved by Wildhearts fans that Ginger doesn't have to bother singing it - the audience does it for him. It's a beautiful thing to watch on video so we were looking forward to participating at the gig. I even worked extra hard beforehand to learn the few lines of the lyrics toward the end of the song that I was unsure of. So I took a chance at being considered one of the Obnoxious, and yelled out the name. Instantly, three people to my right yelled in agreement. Ginger asked, "Geordie in Wonderland?" and everyone screamed. He played the opening and then decided the guitar was out of tune. He handed the guitar to a technician, stood at the microphone and started singing the song a capella. Everyone joined in (my video).
Throughout the whole night, the band demonstrated not only their musical skills as a group, but their enthusiasm and passion for playing music. Now that his drug-addled, misbehaving days are over,** all Ginger's energy goes into putting on a great performance. By the end of the night, his t-shirt was soaked with sweat, and his every move flung beads of sweat off his body, but he never stopped moving. The band bounced and danced the whole night; Ginger and bass player, Scott Sorry, synchronized their rock jumps together.
Ginger has always made it clear that he cares more about people being able to hear his music than he does about making money, even writing on the band's website that he'd rather people download his music illegally than not hear it at all (and perhaps this is testament that you shouldn't, because they don't make any money). I would be shocked to learn that the Wildhearts made any money, rather than lost it, as a result of this two-show tour of Australia. Ginger remarked that they're hoping to come back sometime next year, but we would all have to bring along one other person, so we could fill the venue. "I know tickets are expensive," he said, "But DVDs cost a fortune here, and we're better than any DVD!"
This is Ginger.
The band was lit almost exclusively from behind, and they never held still, so it was difficult to get clear shots.
There are a few more pictures here.
The crowd may have been small, but they were all in the spirit - singing and jumping along with every song. Backing vocals and musical interludes that were missing in the live setting were filled in by the audience. When Ginger's microphone fell off the stand at the beginning of "Suckerpunch", he signalled for the fans to start it for him, and they did. It was a room of people having a blast. The only minor disappointment came when the band finished up, said their goodbyes, and hadn't played the classic B-side, "29 x the Pain", which we could see was written on the setlist. The song is one of the band's most popular tracks; it pays tribute to all of Ginger's musical influences with 29 band references in the lyrics. Those of us at the front stuck around to cheer and yell and sing in an effort to get them back out, but once the tour manager had shooed us away for the fourth time, we gave in and accepted the situation. After such an energizing and fun show, it was hard to be too upset.
It worked out well for Basil and me anyway, because if they had played it, we would have missed the last train back home, which we caught with one minute to spare. That was the perfect ending to an already satisfying night.
* Commonly misheard by Wildhearts fan as "My Elvis wig! My Elvis wig!", Basil tells me.
** Ginger was kicked out of his first band, The Quireboys, for being too crazy. Another story goes that when Kerrang Magazine once printed an untrue story about The Wildhearts, Ginger went to their office and smashed all their equipment up.