This week has been... gaaaaa,
But Friday week ago, I went to see The Herd at The Metro. A local Sydney band playing in one of Sydney's best venues. Added to the fact that it is virtually impossible not to enjoy a band with 8 people on stage, it was bound to be a good night. I saw a bit of their set at the 07 Big Day Out, and I really enjoyed it. I had some high hopes.
I should be point out that my knowledge of the "Not Rock" genre is virtually non-existent. I have been developing a taste for Australian hip hop recently - it doesn't tend to be about how awesomely awesome they are. Rather, it is self deprecating humour, other-deprecating humour, or, like The Herd, political. In my new found appreciation for this other world, I have learned almost none of the jargon, or taxonomy. So if I sound like I don't know my house from my trance from my urban, it's because I don't. But to quote the cliche, I know what I like.
I loved The Herd's version of "I Was Only 19". "Unpredictable" was a lot of fun. But "The King is Dead" won me forever. What a way to capture a moment in history.
The gig itself. Well, I am an old person. I was expecting to be the oldest person there, but actually it was a really varied crowd. So I may not have been the only one thinking that 11pm is too late to start the gig, despite knowing that it was a pretty early kick off for a hip hop headliner. Despite this, I loved the show. They have a ball on stage, play a huge range of instruments, with DJ providing beats and support, rather than the bulk of the music. Jane Tyrrell has a great voice. I loved it. And "The King is Dead" re-created the party atmosphere of November 07. I particularly appreciated this, since I didn't get to partake at the real thing, Elissa being two weeks old and all. Absolutely recommended. Go see them, you can't fail to have a great time.
Note for the unwary (or forgetful like myself): The Metro airconditions appropriately to the weather. If it is cold outside, they keep it cold enough inside to wear your hoodie. This is exactly as it should be, but generally not how it is. Therefore I dressed for your average hothouse, and then froze my proverbials off all night. This has happened to me there before. I am blogging this so that I might manage to remember next time.
And finally, a note to the guy in the white [some surf label] hoodie who spoke to use half a dozen times: Not everything checked is a flanno. And I don't really care how many pairs of jeans you own, or whether your girlfriend can testify to the number of flannos you own. But I hope you had a good night out afterwards. We were too old and went home.