To paraphrase Darles Chickens, "It was the best of times. It was the best of times. it was the best of times of wisdom, it was the best of times of foolishness. It was an epoch of best of times. It was the best of times." And so it was. Last Friday we said good bye, Good Boy and it played out live at The Tivoli with gusto and furore. The floor was covered in beer and sweat, not tears. And that's how we like it. I'm already a week overdue on this article, so let's jump straight into the milk and cookies.
The first band to grace the stage was Platonic Sex. And Gee Whizz, did they rock our socks off. They start off with drums kicking & lead songstress, Bridget Brandolini howling on the pipes. And what pipes she has! I get in to find that she's also shredding on the guitar, along with Jane Millroy from Melaleuca also schralping on the old G-tar. The song builds and we move on to the second song.
The next ditty comes in slower, contrasting the first. It starts off with guitar like '1979' from Smashing Pumpkins, but then it changes course into a pump-up section before tearing itself down in a literal break down.
Their whole set featured guitar so S I C K it will give you goosebumps on your downstairs mix-up. The bass was thumping hard and the drums were solid fire. It's track number 5 'Teeth,' which I really want to talk about though. . .
We start with tuning, tuning, tuuuuuning. We're told it's a song about Brisbane, break ups & life. It starts off with a solitary lyric & strum ballad from Bridget, but it's then that we enter uncharted territory. There's technical difficulties with the guitar chord. This is where you truly see someone's stagecraft. She goes with it and clowns around, invincible. This was the best performance of this song ever. Despite the setbacks, it made it even better. BAM. The band comes in, dicks swinging, and the song gets out of control. Powerful & emotive, she's got some fucking lungs on her. I was trying to think of who to compare her voice to, and it's unclassifiable. Some sort of vocal cryptid.
The rest of the band are also chameleons, flirting with Siamese Dream-flavoured guitar & sick little ditties. Melancholy always dripping out of Jane's guitar in oozebundance. You've heard of sing-alongs, but have you ever heard of dance-alongs? Because that's what we got here. To use the immortal words of Matt Preston, This band is disgusting.
-ly good.
We then get onto Act Nombre Dos, the Full Flower Moon Band. I can only describe these guys as 'sludge funk.' The guitarist went OFF with the old stage move-a-roonies. The singer too, she was amazing - Big Dick energy shooting down our chests and faces. This band is bluesy, with some sort of psyche-country trudge. It's like listening to the pub. With all the bendy-bends on the gootar you could ever want. Their second song featured a secret fake-out-no-jutsu ending and was a stomper.
These guys roar. Their fourth song, 'Power,' was crackly & sultry, with flamin' lucifer fiddle guitar licks. Once it gets kicking, I was rendered witless, with only the words "Ye BOiiiiii" managing to trickle out of my pen. They push into a breakdown, and a sludgy skunk fest with more slime than a slug convention ensues.
Their set combines Tom Morello freakiness with raw sexual fury. There's droning guitars, trademark chuggles and INCREDIBLE crowd work from the singer. Her stage presence is really next level, and the whole set was an absolute frog stomper.
'I'm a super model baby / Can't you tell?'
The last song rattled the floorboards. They tell us it's sentimental, that it's about playing at The Tivoli. Absolutely ridinki-donk. The opening section is groovalicious. Like walking a desert in flares and leopard thighboots. Shrieking guitar and searing rhythm. There's a freaky dolphin sex call section from the 6-stringed menace, and the FKN BENDS, SONS. MMMMM HMMMMMMmmmmmm. Full Flower Moon Band have literally bottled Brisbane and delivered it to us parched, sweaty rock goblins. The whole crowd went mad when they mention The Tivoli in the lyrics, you could feel the vibrations in China. The outro is also worth mentioning, because I don't know what to call it. . . We all know a juicy breakdown. But this was something else. A chug down? A break up? You'll have to see them live to see what I mean.
Absolute shredmeister 3000's.
Which takes us to our third act of the evening, The Jensens. These guys have elements of dreamy psychadelic disco weirdness, combined with blues and rock. We've got big pipes from the main singer, very Bowie meets Byrne, and the drummer was also the star here. The lead guitarist has some serious springs in his shoes & got freakier than the Ric's smoker's area.
During the second song we had a beautiful acoustic guitar fall in the line of duty. The lead guitarist bouncy-hair guy sung in this one. And wow! Impressive voices from both of them. This guy sounds more like... some strange smooth soul pipes Like if Michael Jackson, Prince & Jeff Buckley did a choral rendition of Jesus Christ Superstar together and all played the role of Judas. The band really feels the pulse and was tighter than a pokeball.
The next song featured quizzical chords and a smattering of synth. We get steamy guitar solos that were so mindboggling salacious, that I'm going to invent a new word to describe them: solocious. Then we get some Queen drums heralding the next number, and the lead guitarist hangs up the axe and goes full-frontal. It's almost a tragedy that he's so fucking good at string-slinging, because his stage presence & energy are so hectic as a frontman. The only thing more pure than his voice, is his fucking dance moves. Like some fucked-up shit cooked up by Ian Curtis or David Byrne. Don't get me wrong though, I love both singers equally, especially with the next little dittle.
Speaking of David and the Byrnes, they then take us on a moozical journey with a literal Talking Heads cover. 'This Must Be The Place.' They rocked the house down. Audience singing along, some more crazy dance moves from Old Wiggle Legs out there (the main singer shall only be referred to as thus from now on).
Their final song featured an astrological synth-tro, some soaring guitar-zation, schralp lord solos and an entire audience jumping in tandem. Thanks to Old Wiggle Legs and The Boys for their ultimate ding-dong-sing-song mastery. The Jensens have got some SERIOUS shit up their melodious sleeves.
And now, ladies and gentle-germs, for our goodest boys. The moment you've all been waiting for... Good Boy takes the stage.
They start off with Blokey McBlokerson on the vox, giving an emotive blast of the vocal chords. Don't get me wrong, I love this guy. A larrikin and storyteller, with incredible crowd work. The stage is very open, and each band member can inhabit their own lush little grove. A shining beacon of shred, their worm wrangler (bass player) is the bedrock of the band & goes OFF on-stage.
Their second song is much more up-tempo, and features some sick dance moves from the lead zinger. Real cool lyrics & style, Blokey is having a ball. His facial expressions when he sings though. Dear God. Those eyes. They've seen some shit. We get some happy throwdowns, dance-style and we head straight to Banger Town.
Their third song begins with some really good crowd interaction, with calypso flavoured guitar. Blokey is waggin' his booty real fine-like and then a tragedy befalls us as his Green Beacon spills everywhere. We get some pure comedy:
"Well, that's the last time we play that one..."
And then onwards to the next banger & mash. It starts off with a tumble of the old bass stringy-string, and then those eyes. Those fkn eyes. Their whites will haunt your dream-mares for all eternity.
He jumps down close-and-personal with the photographers and I dig it. Like some Davey Havok hardcore-era crowd work, minus the straight-edge. "I'M FUCKING JACKED," he booms.
The next song starts off with high, serene guitar, juxtaposed with the singer yelling his bloody lungs out. He's a born frontman. The main character of the piece. You can't take your eyes off him. And he can't take his off you. Those eyes. He pumps up not only the audience, but also the band too.
More incredible crowd work and dance moves ensue. If it was silent, you'd swear you were at a hardcore gig with that sort of fine D-floor navigation. Drummy Van Drummersen brings the beats thick and fast, and the audience is louder than the band! They could have heard us in the seas of the moon. The zinger reaching out to the crowd with the hand of god, like The Creation of Adam.
"This one's for my mum, up top! Thanks mum!"
The next song is called 'Millie,' and it's beautiful. Dedicated to his Dear Old Mammy, the lighters came out in the crowd. He jumps in the audience again, proper Davey style now, standing on heads, and we get some John Frusciante x Hendrix guitar with the bassist swayin'. Finally, those eyes close. In pure emotion. He's yelling it all out, sonic booms shooting through his teeth.
The next song, 'Higher' is funkin' out with jungle drums and a freaky smooth guitar break in the bridge. AND THE D. MOVES!! The drummer broke his first stick ever, and that's sayin' something. From here on out, it's only hot fire on the dance floor, with everyone gettin' rowdy. We've got rattlin' bass, call & response with the crowd and a crowd surfer havin' a paddle. We get a song dedicated to the LGBTQI+ members of the crowd - "We Fuckin' love you!" And we get props for John Miller, the manager & dad of the group. John even goes hard on the acoustic.
"I'm a stoke sponge. Soaking up all the stoke!"
'Kings of the Stoned Age' hits hard, a song about his brother, mental health & looking after yourself. The crowd is jostling and the singer brings his trademarked 2000 gigalitres of energy. They did their first (and last) ever encore, featuring two songs. They bid us farewell (until they get 10k to get back together). The crowd was raucous.
"Alright you bloody drongos! Alright you bloody turkeys! Let's do the song you all came here to see!"
The lights go down, and they fucking kill it. They heard us past the moon on this one. They heard us on Pluto. (Still not a planet).
Good Boy will be sorely missed, but never forgotten. Until they get 10k to get back together. I'd like to leave you with a song, if I may:
And that's all she fuckin' wrote.
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