Supergrass

Apart from being surprisingly loud, to the extent that you couldn’t decipher a word Damian Crosbie said, The Panda Band had a meandering set. I’m not being sarcastic here. Having said that, though, The Panda Band, along with the Panics, are the best band singing indie-pop tunes in Perth. I read an article in the West Australian the other day claiming End of Fashion is the best band going ‘round. I spat my cornflakes all over page 87. End of Fashion, apart from having the second most pretentious name in the biz (1st place: Broken Social Scene) are the most glorified indie-pop band and the sorta stuff indie kids eat for breakfast. (You ARE Shooter McGavin and you DO eat shit for breakfast). Getting back to the point, the reasonable crowd that came along at 8.00 pm to see TPB were treated to 40 minutes of sweet lullabyes from five blokes all in need of a decent haircut. They played every song from their only LP, This Vital Chapter and did it as well as they could have. The singles Sleepy Little Deathtoll Town and Ghosts Have The Best Time got the best reception from the Triple J audience. If the crowd were enjoying themselves you certainly would not have known it. They resembled the crowd at the Smashing Pumpkins gig in the Simpsons where they were all swaying lethargically from side to side whilst Zero was being played. I felt like they all had that quote going through their heads:

Gen X-er 1: “Oh, here’s that Panda Band, they’re cool’.

Gen X-er 2: “Are you being sarcastic, dude?”

Gen X- er 1: “I don’t even know anymore”

As I reached the top of the stairs of the Metro, Supergrass came strutting out to a thunderous reception. I don’t want to sound wanky here, but you sorta had the feeling this was gonna be a really good set. As much as strutting and thunderous applause can tell you. And it was. The crowd up front was off their guts and showing about 1000 times more enthusiasm as they did for the proceeding act. No chit-chat from Gaz, as he went straight to work on ‘em. He was like cutting a loaf of bread with a chainsaw. So much was happening and you had to stop and ask “Surely this ain’t right?” And it sorta sounded like it as well. The bread being Helga’s and the chainsaw being the same one they used in the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Simply awesome. The first two tracks were from 1997’s In It For The Money which made Supergrass’s intentions known from the get-go, considering that was probably their most popular and commercially successful album though im sure to be contradicted. Caught by the Fuzz had an early rendition with the deafening approval of whatya’d expect from their first hit. This was followed up by a mix-mash of tracks from most of their records with Richard III, Lenny and Later in the Day getting front to middle grid positions and all getting the wag-of-the-finger-in-the-air approval.

Mid way through, when Later In The Day was playing, I saw a young bloke on the ground floor in my peripherals being ejected by security. Let me tell you this; I have never ever seen someone get ejected from an indie rock/pop/alternative show. Call me ignorant, call me stupid, but it’s one of those things in life that just doesn’t seem to happen. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, what the fuck? Did he have an argument with some other twit about who has the better waist coat and pork pie hat? Was it “Stop shopping at my Good Sammy’s, you scoundrel, you’re taking all the good size small stripy shirts”. Or was it about who is more agnostic? God damn it, life is just weird sometimes.

Supergrass continued to pump out the quality tracks whilst I was left scratching my head. Pumping On Your Stereo was the next track off the rank and the one that this head got right ‘round the most. As pretty much the whole venue did. Probably ‘cause it’s a starting track for all things Supergrass. The atmosphere was just about peaking, rocking from wall to wall, when the lads decided to get sun hits the sky involved. That raised the pleasure-o-metre from ‘randy’ to ‘rape’. All three levels were doing their own version of the ‘jump up and down really fast and point your fingers’ at the stage. And it didn’t let up. While on the topic of dancing, let me give credit where credit’s due. The girls looked sensational. And I’m talkin’ ‘bout the Gen- X girls. Before tonight’s show I did not know so many ladies liked Supergrass. Clearly a Bloc Party of the mid nineties when it comes to female adulation. The ratio was at least 60-40. At least. Probably more. That’s unusual. For any sort of gig. Unless it’s a Sinead O’Conner gig.

Throughout the entire gig the Supergrass lads did not take one solitary break. Heck, you wouldn’t read about it. They played straight through as if the taxi were still waiting for them out back. I don’t blame ‘em, this is Perth and finding a taxi here is like finding untainted meat at Metros on a Saturday night. The stamina was impressive, especially Mick Quinn who was showing the strains of 15 years of Corona and Coke. The mandatory encore followed after about 60 minutes on stage. Going Out was a great track to throw into the encore. Followed by another encore. Always nice to get that other one in.

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