Frenzal Rhomb - Gig Review 26th October @ Corner Hotel, Melb/Naarm VIC
Frenzal Rhomb – A Man’s Not a Camel 25th Anniversary Tour
Corner Hotel, Naarm/ Melbourne VIC
October 26th, 2024
Supports: Vicious Blonde and Terminal Sleep
Getting old can be tough, so the youthful exuberance and boundless energy from the support bands at Frenzal Rhomb’s Naarm “...Camel” birthday show were a breath of fresh air for all the crusty old punks, hippies, and whateverthefuck’s that still listen to feral-yet-thoughtful 90’s punk rock as it trudges shit-eatingly about a fourth decade of DIY excess and justified sociopolitical anger.
Openers Vicious Blonde brandished a fine wagon of chugging and anthemic punk rock. There’s plenty of Cosmic Psychos and Dead Kennedys coursing through their delicious young blood, which is a popular vibe amidst a resurgence in pub-tour punk that feels perpetuated by the commercial success of Amyl and The Sniffers and The Chats over the last five or so years. The more like these guys, the merrier. Vicious Blonde were sonically vicious, despite not being blonde. That glaring lie aside, it doesn’t feel like they’ll play the curtain raisers much longer.
Middle child of the gig were an unexpected and burly exhibition of some of the finest hardcore available back at the transition from last millennium. Terminal Sleep – presumably a clever way to call your band ‘Death’ without stepping on other bands’ toes or losing every Google search for your band to a WebMD question – came out swinging and didn’t let up for a second of their polished, heavy, and mirthy slot. Your humble reviewer and his friends agreed that fat chunks of Converge lay within their thrashing, break-down-laden, and unconventionally structured songs. Sure enough, a Converge cover found its way into their set amongst all the other ripping tunes they brought along, mostly sounding like Dillinger Escape Plan with 50% less time signature changes, but 100% of their glory days energy.
Any band with a devastatingly shouty and erratic frontwoman who may genuinely be possessed by Satan, starts the gig deeply screaming “LET’S FUCKING GO, CUNTS”, but still takes sips of throat-soothing tea every few songs is an uproarious, rich, and characterful dichotomy you’d all be better for seeking out when next in your town. It also shows that the band is committed to a long and flourished career ahead. Terminal Sleep’s exceptional musicianship and brazen disregard for convention has this reviewer convinced they’re destined for global recognition before too long. Scream and flail on, you excellent burgeoning rock stars.
“Art is how we decorate space, music is how we decorate time.” – Jean-Michel Basquiat
In light of both truly believing this quote and having reviewed, photographed, and seen Frenzal Rhomb more than any other band in the 21 years I’ve been a music journo, it’d be easy and very hungover-and-nearly-40-of-me to regurgitate a same-ish review about how they’re older, we’re older, the songs still fucking rock, the group deeply enriched formative years of our misspent youth, their wittily cynical world view is still hilarious and ingratiating, Gordy is ageless, The Doctor is looking mad trim off the piss nowadays, Jay’s main dread has become sentient to make him sporadically play tambourine no one can hear, supple new bassist Dal has phenomenal bass skills/terrible punk tattoos in equal measure, and everyone had a great time as always… so that’s exactly what I’ll do.
Oh wait, I just did. Go Frenzal, Go!
Nah, they deserve at least another paragraph of praise. Working as hard as they do - even when seeming a bit tired and in need of a vegan Bonox (Vegemite in water?) at the tail-end of their 16millionth Australian tour – Frenzal Rhomb are very thankful and gracious between flippant, jovial insults about nearly everything not limited to but including:
1. That giant penguin Pesto at Sealife Aquarium on the Yarra.
2. John Butler Wellness Retreats.
3. Clashing with a Cold Chisel gig down the road.
4. Gentle verbal, tuning-key, and silly beer pants hazing of Dal the new bassist (a proud Gamilaroi man and bassist for Local Resident Failure.)
5. Melbourne’s acute historical affinity for ska music.
6. Melbourne’s acute historical affinity for garbage public transport and ticketing systems.
7. Being old and remembering how little effort sometimes lyrically went into writing A Man’s Not a Camel one quarter of an entire century ago.
8. Clinical depression.
9. Having to play the shittier songs on Man’s Not a Camel.
10. Themselves.
Not playing an album tour album all in a row like a factory product is a huge benefit to any band’s set. It guarantees the crowd they’re probably going to hear all the songs from the album they love but adds the wonderful element of anticipation and surprise that is removed when albums are sequentially played like you’re in the car in traffic trying to feel young instead of worring about taxes. Plus splitting up and mixing AMNAC made the non-album favourites like 'Russell Crowe’s Band', 'Mr. Charisma', 'Bird Attack (ft. Pesto)', and 'Punch In The Face' all the more exciting. The Corner Hotel’s infamous “Giant fucking asshole concrete pilon right fucking there in the middle of the fucking venue fuck fuck ow fuck” definitely drank the blood and ate the flesh of a few wilier punters before the night was through, as it was hard to stand anywhere except those weird stairs up the back without being bounced off or enveloped by the whole-venue-mosh-pit a band like Frenzal can only conjure from its rusty-ass old bong head patrons (present reviewer included).
Anyway, get out of the fucking house and go watch bands you love. We’re all dead a long time and getting amongst it before your tendons and ligaments all finally disintegrate is key to a happier life. Sore back and brain totally worth it. Thanks as always, Friends Of Rob. Tell him we say g’day.
Review by Todd Gingell - that one guy from the HMV San Souci instore where we destroyed the entire shop in 2003...
