The Triffid has had its fair share of wild jaunts & soirees in its time, but none have come close to the hot 'n' trottin' bootscoot we had last Saturday. Featuring Radium Dolls with their first official electrified rendition of their new album Legal Speed, supporting Melbourne's psychedelic sweethearts Sunfruits and Brisbane baby boo's Full Flower Moon Band. It was hard to pick which photos were best, so stick around for a sneaky gallery at the end. Prime your saddle and grab the spurs, this one's gonna be a hoe-down.
Raw of chest & tone, Radium Dolls never disappoint. I first saw them at a Brisbane Arts Fest gig a few years ago with Blonded, and I've been on their tailwind ever since. Their latest album is churning the waters and tickling our ear canals happy fun style. Always in Aussie pub crawl drawl, the shiny new words are barked at us from behind slick black speed-dealers. Full Flower Moon drummer Luke Hanson makes a guest appearance during the punchy new CIA sporting interrogative agent suit, earpiece & shades, ready to detain us all. Chest glistening and energy pouring, we get hit with an ever-generous helping of crowd work. "It's an honest pleasure," says frontman Will Perkins, "The sound's crackin'."
The music comes thick and fast, with the mic grip staunch & tough, and the guitar ready 2 go. As always, Will is mesmeric, facing out to the audience without fear whilst delivering lessons in gyration. We get two ballads at the end, with the crowd getting frenzied during 'Tractor Parts.' We're all building to that big climactic part of the song, with a beer in each hand and curly whirlies on the geetar. The crowd is swaying and the song's a shower and a grower. A swizzly sizzling solo swelters down upon us and we lap it up. We all get the goosies on our wrinkle sticks and they nail it. Nice one Big Dogz. Some Brisbane hypeman crowdwork and we're into the final song with a pub chorus of "Fuck Melbourne!" and "Fuck Sydney," "Brisbane is the best!"
We're told this is a 'slow and sad one,' and we're down. Tinkle guitars, drum shuffles and the bass is trawlin'. They're punchin' the ol' string-a-ding-ding-dongs and shoving showmanship down our gullets. Masters of ballad and groove-noodler alike, get your ears around Legal Speed and your dancin' shoes to a Radium gig near you.
From far across the Southern wastes comes our next band, Sunfruits. Hailing from Melbourne, they rode into town to deliver their potent wares of psychedelic intrigue. As per the rules of music, the keys player always has to be the steeziest fashion wizard in the band, and Sunfruits got the memo. They're freaking the squares and morphing them into shapes unseen, with audience pumpage between songs and a drummer sporting the world's deadliest moustache. Screaming baby guitar and keyboard tambourine onslaught unfolds with each member contributing vocals.
Their ownership of the stage is infectious, with everyone jumping around and having fun. They walk the bass and wring the guitar for all it's worth. Each song has a progressive jam feel, with everything you think you know blowing out your brainstem and peppering the floor.
They treat us to a new song with a synthy horror opening. This is strutting music, with nowhere to hide. The gloop is getting thicker and the guitarist is just waiting to melt us. The keyboard warrior and the wailing guitars shred us to pieces and leave us disfigured & wanting more.
They've got the moves. They've got the sound. And now they've harnessed the future. The next song gets spacey, so I hope you brought your moon boots. . . Because it's a stomper. They're air-kicking the Milky Way and we're gettin' sweaty.
We're told there's one more song, and the crowd goes bananas. It's a sludge fudgling start, different from the rest, straight into the Ruthless Randals. Slithering down the journey hole, and the crowd is getting gelatinous while they climb the fret board. One guy behind me said it best:
"I like them."
And I agree. I just wish I was on acid.
Picture me this: A big entrance with the all-black walk-on. The players take to the stage and the strings are tuned. We're off to the races. The first thing you will notice at any Full Flower Moon gig is singer Babyshakes' power stance. Girthy and erect, the frontwoman is always large & in-charge. They're tighter than ever, and the audience is doing lines of attack pheromone. It's time to get thumpin'.
'NY - LA' hits the airwaves and we're on the move. It's a chugging jamboree, Shakes is struttin' and the guitar gets hot 'n' heavy. It's booty shakin' season at The Triffid and the crowd goes into action. Let's get freaky.
It's a well known fact that Kate 'Babyshakes' Dillon has the biggest dick in the business and she knows how to use it. A big thanks to the crowd & venue, and they play their newest wiggle worm, 'West Side.' It's a tale of power stance and sweat unfolding on the stage. The crowd surfers evade the seccies' grip, with one guy doing Olympic laps around the building. The audience is hooting and the stage is steaming up, we've got our hands in the air all night & all day. And then for some reason my notes just have a scribbled drawing of a guitar. And that's all the words I need.
The diesel-powered set is broken up with un-shy crowd work and paralyzing humour. The sound is swamp & rippled muscle. They flop it on the table and drain their throbbing strings all over our chests & faces. Babyshakes is dropping bullets out of her AK47 guitar. What a weapon.
There's a slow fade-out into country high noon and the crowd is singing along. "You make it feel like its just a set of number one hits!" And that's because they ARE number 1 hits. Banger after banger and then the jumping starts. Remember kids, chugs, not drugs. It's an outback spectacular with the bendy-boos on the slide guitar. The other bands join them on stage for a super group dance battle. "We thought we'd do a 10-part harmony for the final show in Brisbane. And I think we nailed it! Thanks guys!"
We give thanks to all the band members' parents, dutifully moshing down the back, and the gig gets intimate with the band stripping down to just drums and singer for a little ditty. The audience gobbles it down and we get back into the glomp stompery.
She's gunning us downtown again and it's gettin' scary. It's time to strut once more. The tongue comes out, and those eyes. They've seen too much. The audience may be deceased, but we're still feelin' it, and you can't take your eyes away. We get a robot solo and more dick-swingin' action and go into the next song, 'Roadie.' I'm with child.
Guitar stabs and feet off the floor, the old couple next to me is making out and it's time to scamper. An eruptive audience and the band tickling the electricity switch as we get one last treat from Mommy with the succulent new track, 'Man Hands.' The microphone is smoking and the audience needs a cigarette after that absolute railing.
Soiled and panting, we make our way into the night air. Finger pistols and pep in our step, the audience just withstood aural onslaught of the most deranged kind. Radium Dolls brought the rattlesnake guitar and XXXX Gold vocals. Sunfruits scrambled our wormholes with galactic keys. And FFMB fertilised our eggs with gasoline and bullets. All in all, I'd say that's a good night.
Mad love for Scout Cook-Long for the piccy beaks, and slow head nods & hi-fives for each of the bands. You recalibrated our think wrinkles and vital organs.
Thank you.
Gallery:
Radium Dolls
Sunfruits
Full Flower Moon Band
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