Fearless Vampire Killers

I have seen the Fearless Vampire Killers a few times in the past. The first time was by accident at Chapel Street's attempt at grunge, Revolver, over very drunken games of pool. By halfway through the set, most of the Kookai brigade had piled onto the dance floor and rubbing themselves up against boys in upturned collars. Wow… what a terrible attempt at singing someone’s praise…

So. Since that fateful night, I have formed a minor and inappropriate crush on the barely legals. They are so young it makes me want to go out and buy expensive face packs, yet they are accurately channelling days gone. Their sound is an unashamed mix of The Rolling Stones, Beatles and the Kinks. Bordering on plagiarism, they are hardly breaking any new ground or re-writing what we know of music. But what they do, they do well.

Having just released their new EP, they are touring the country with Geelong locals The Frowning Clouds on their Snakes and Ladders tour. Their Melbourne stop off was the Northcote Social Club. The Frowning Clouds played what was expected of them, or expected of The Fearless Vampire Killers. If it weren’t for their physical appearance, you would never tell the two apart, that being the support act taking inspiration from the Beatles circa 1964 with turtle-necks and tartan bellbottoms and the Vampires deciding to depict the identical prolific band in their later years with loose fitting shirts and… bellbottoms. It was a re-living of a era we never actually attended, and they do it just fine. Very poppy with howling guitar bridges and nonsensical lyrics. Three drunk older guys throwing themselves around in the front row with handlebar moustaches. Trendy girls with short skirts trying to sway seductively and only half pulling it off.

The set went exactly as anticipated and everyone there seemed to enjoy themselves. However, I felt that after the three or so Vampire gigs I have attended, it played a little too samey to excite. I found it quite hard to stay put, opting for glimpses of the front bar and countless cigarettes and an early exit for the twenty-four-hour Dali exhibition. So I would highly recommended seeing the boys play, if for nothing else but to see guitarist Al Marx perfectly separate his testicles in a pair of jeans so tight we have been introduced to his unborn children. It will not be a life-changing experience but it gets you dancing- and this is important in life.

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