"Hollywood" On The Gold Coast

When we were asked to headline a benefit in Brisbane for the Mater Hospital some weeks ago, we jumped at the chance to escape the Melbourne weather and go get a tan (of course, it was sunny and in the high 20s in Victoria the whole time we were away). But stuff it, it was good to be back in Queensland after a long break, and we were keen to re-establish ourselves with Brisvegas audiences, not to mention meeting up with our Queensland rep "Hollywood" Hawthorne (who we met up with on the Gold Coast), raising some funds for sick kids AND drinking for free!

Friday afternoon saw us pull into Brisbane airport at the very civilized hour of 12pm, after "gaining" an hour due to daylight savings, and the shenanigans had already begun (yeah we're just like The Monkees really). Chuck's shop counter bell, which had been appropriated from Bendigo La Trobe University some weeks before (where we'd also loudly read passages from books we'd found backstage, with titles like "The Joy Of Gay Sex" to the amusement of various members of the Superjesus), was heard ringing with wild abandon on the tarmac, as airport staff shook their heads in disgust. To the delight of some members of the band we also had a run-in with Juanita, the lead singer of Waikiki and purportedly the most lusted-after muso in Australia (this month anyway), and spent the rest of the trip singing "Here Comes My Member" to the tune of Here Comes September (yes we are all class). The "comedy" cabin crew on our complimentary Virgin flights also started me, Dan and Stevo saying everything with a "Latino" accent, so all anyone heard for the rest of the flight (and indeed the weekend) was "por favor" and "chut up", until the point where the others had had enough and were ready to give us a hiding,so we said it some more.

After more bell-ringing and a brief punch-on to determine who "rode shotgun" in the Tarago, we were off to that infamous rock hotel the Point On Shafton (hur hur) which I think Stevo would like to own, or at least live at. After a few looseners at the Storey Bridge Hotel (I recommend the excellent beer batter chips), we were off to the venue for soundcheck, heading off down the highway in peak hour traffic. The venue was the difficult-to-spell Troccadero, another successful venture for Gold Coast music biz personality Archie (quite the "legitimate businessman" if you know what I mean) and featured some amusing camouflage nets hanging from the ceiling and lots of ska kids running around. We sound-checked, then headed down for a BBQ and drinks with some winners from a competition the Brisbane Courier Mail had run, always a band to take full advantage, we promptly drank the bar dry of Stella Artois. One of the competition winners issued "liquor licences", and when Stevo asked her if she was popular with lesbians she didn't have a clue what he was talking about (hmm, that one took me a little while too...)

Back upstairs, Triple Oh Seven were swingin', kicking arse and the place was beginning to jump. The next band saw the vibe change from happy to hardcore as street punks Vicious took the stage, one of their fans living up to the band's name as he started pounding a girl who had foolishly wandered into the eye of the moshpit! Well, proving chivalry isn't dead our own Chris Meighen jumped in and pulled the drunk, aggressive guy off her, only to be escorted to the door by the bouncers! Well, having not had any serious violence at our gigs for quite a while we were a little shocked, but the guy was soon out on his arse and everything right with the world again.

Eventually it was time to hit the stage and we were a little sluggish from waiting around so long, watching our rider disappearing down the gullets of anyone who decided to wander backstage (got to reward initiative I suppose). We spent the time plastering Area 7 tattoos and stickers all over every wall and every one (Chris' mate Mark covering his face with temporary tattoos, the type which stubbornly hang around for days afterwards, I bet he's still regretting that now!), and trying to be witty for Stevo's DIY documentary, but at last on we went to a large and noisy crowd. Queensland audiences have always been good to us and tonight was no exception, with a rousing encore being played and lots of dancing, drinking and audience participation. Backstage things were getting interesting, as the lead singer of Vicious got into a kicking match with a door which the door lost - flying off its hinges at the exact moment Chuck was walking towards it! Chucky was pale and shaking after what was in all probability a near-death experience, and I hear the venue was none too impressed either, but enough about that, it was time for us to head home to bed.

The Spirit of '69

Saturday after a long sleep in, we decided to hit the town, and headed out to get some breakfast in Fortitude Valley (or "The Valley" as my phone was telling me at the time). After wandering around aimlessly we settled down for some political arguments, bird-watching and a hit of vitamins, and Chuck managed to talk a nearby bongo-playing stallholder at the Brunswick Street market into shutting up (as we were all hungover, had headaches and couldn't hear each other) by promising to buy something later (he didn't). Later, after picking up Tobe who had gone to the wrong hotel and was standing forlornly in the car park waiting as light rain began to fall, we negotiated Brisbane's interminable one-way streets until we finally found the venue for the evening, the Waterloo (prompting the inevitable ABBA singalong) which was a beer barn/saloon bar/RSL composite which strangely worked. Members of the Brisbane City All-Skas (who rocked the house later on I'm told) were already there on arrival, and one guy uttered the immortal line,"How come Area 7 gets a door-list and we don't? What happened to the Spirit of 69?", so of course for the rest of the evening, anytime anything went wrong it was because it "wasn't the Spirit of 69" (it's a UK skinhead thing for those of you who're wondering what the hell I'm on about).

After soundcheck we headed off for an interview at 4ZZZ which we all took part in, squeezing into the makeshift bomb shelter studios (seriously 3PBS looks like a palace by comparison!) and giving twenty minutes of our best stand-up comedy routine (the bell was featured pretty heavily - to the bemusement of local listeners I'd imagine). They seemed to have relaxed the "no drinking beer in the studio" rule too (which I unwittingly broke last time I was there) and Stevo also guilt-tripped them into agreeing to ask us up for the next 4ZZZ Market Day, I hope it happens!

Back at the Waterloo, our gigging mates Wiseacre and the Kingtides all played blinding sets, and the place was pumpin'. But soon after we took the stage, The Spirit of 69 had its revenge, as Chris broke a string three songs into the set. Luckily it was during Skin Deep so we could get around having no bass while our stage tech (and slavering Mandy Moore fan) Caleb furiously re-strung the only bass guitar we had. We recovered the momentum pretty quickly however and the rest of the night was fantastic, even featuring a small coterie of bikies who invited us to sign their girlfriends body parts and come and hang out at their clubhouse afterwards! (we chickened out, although don't get me wrong, they were cool). Big props go out to the Rebels M.C. This time we were smart and stashed our rider under the mixing desk so it was still there when we finished playing, then we signed stuff until the bouncers kicked everyone out.

We rounded off the evening by heading back for a party at our hotel room with some punters from the show, one of whom (a girl) swapped clothes with one of the band, I won't say who but I can tell you he looks pretty funny in a dress! We crashed late, and got up a few hours later to head back to the airport, passing what I read as being "Clitoris Street" on the way ("people often circle around it" and "some people just can't find it" as a couple of wags in the tour bus quipped) for a leisurely flight back with our buddies Virgin Blue (good on them for making the tour financially viable I say, but I wish they'd stop that "Ladies and Gentlemen, Girls and Boys" crap!) We headed home, some of us with newly acquired door phobias, some of us with a taste for transvestisism, but all happy that we'd had a great weekend and ready to play some more. A special "cheers!" to Kieran and Nick, the organisers of the Sick Kids Skank, and see y'all later.