_{Brian Mann and Mick Medew trading licks in Thirroul. Shona Ross photo.}

Gonna break that rule about not reviewing I-94 Bar gigs, as the second of this two-night engagement was badged thus. If you can’t write about things you like, what’s the point? It’s the ethos of why we do this e-zine thing.



So let’s be up front and say that Mick Medew is a good mate and his band, The Mesmerisers, are lovely people. In customary evangelical spirit, I’m unashamedly going to tell you that if you love rock and roll then you have to see them - in their native Brisbane or on one of their few forays outside of Queensland. 

The first leg of this two-night weekend stand was a support to the mighty Sunnyboys, opening a bill shared with the mercurial Ups & Downs. The venue was the magic Anita’s Theatre in Thirroul, an hour-and-a-bit south of Sydney. The second was a Sydney show at the increasingly familiar stamping ground of Marrickville Bowling Club. The Mesmerisers are making the road trip a family affair with partners and two offspring in tow.

Belated reviews are the best reviews. You know, better late than never. 

Eleven days have elapsed since feedtime played Marrickville Bowling Club. The excuse for the late review is that the tinnitus needed time to subside. No, there are never excuses, only reasons. After experiencing two - Two sets! Count ‘em! - sets by feedftime in one night, you need time to get over it.

Not time to analyse it. Music like theirs should never be picked over like an insect that ends up pinned to a back-board in a display case at the Australian Museum. As if you didn’t know, feedtime plays music from the guts, not the head. 

Allow me a brief Robert Brokenmouth-style digression. 

If you’ve not seen or heard Andrew McCubbin play, or if you have but not seen his current set, drawn from his new LP “Where Once There was a Fire”, then I can only urge you to do so.

They're in Adelaide tonight but McCubbin and Melinda Kay toured Europe earlier this year to a strong response from crowds, most of whom it is fair to say, were unfamiliar with the music.

The new album is a deeply romantic, sweet, painful, exhilarating slow burn. So, no, they’re not Marky Ramone (who played tonight elsewhere) or the Cosmic Psychos or a Birthday Party covers band.

 _{The Aints in Sydney. Iam Amos photo.}

It’s a concept both risky and bold. The Aints, as they were originally constituted, were a short-term thing that evolved into something more substantial. After a live record and two studio albums, they’d been put to one side for a time (25 years) while main protagonist Ed Kuepper did other things. Many other things.

Much water had passed under the Go Between(s) Bridge since then. History had also put on a lot of weight. The original Saints had re-convened for a tour that did a degree of justice to the band’s name, but was clouded by ill-temper.

Thoughts of doing it again apparently reside in the church of indifference, baby.

_{Mandy Tzaras photo.}

Glen Matlock's Adelaide show was such a fine, big smile-stretched-across-the-face, hugely enjoyable gig. Not because of the association to THAT band, but because Glen is who he is, likes the kind of music he likes, and brings it into you. 

If you’re hesitating about whether to see this man’s gigs - don’t. 

Just go. 

_{The Aints in full flight: Peter Oxley, Paul Larsen and Ed Kuepper, with Alastair Spence obscrured. Mandy Tzaras photo.}

You knew something special was up in Adelaide tonight because as you approached The Gov, heading determinedly back to the carpark was a small group of lone pushing-toward-pensioner men, each clutching the same record: “The Aints Live at The Sarah Sands 1991”. There can’t be too many left of this, they only made 300; get yours at the gig; two LPs, $50.

Now then.

Ever hear of Reid Fleming, World’s Toughest Milkman? Good. Now you have. 

The first comic came out, it must’ve been 30 years ago. I had a T-shirt, gave it to Bob, who has cherished that damn thing for about 25 years now. I did my heart good to see Bob bouncing around tonight in that tattered t-shirt. “I thought I told you to SHUT UP!” Fleming bellows from the shirt. It perfectly matches the night.