:: Streetkid Vandal at the Cherry Bar Melbourne - January 2004

By: Daniel Zugna (d.zugna@pgrad.unimelb.edu.au)

The Cherry Bar is a funny sort of a place, particularly on a Saturday night. It’s hidden away off Flinders Lane, and has a dark and underground kind of aesthetic to it. Then 10:30 / 11:00 rolls round and they arrive. They don’t take the place over, but their presence is noticeable. Private school types with their gravity-defying hair and schmick shirts. Little skirts holding mixed drinks. X and Y chromosomes cloned from the same genetic cesspool. The not-so-whispered whisperings of Cherry’s meat-market status. Please let the band start soon.

At quarter to twelve, the antidote arrived in the form of four skinny Brisbanites-cum-Melburnians clad mostly in black. I had seen Streetkid Vandal about a year earlier at Pony, when they were called Elroy. Only a few months before the Elroy gig I had seen a band I hadn’t heard of called Jet play at the 9th Ward. Now comparing bands is a subjective and hence pointless exercise, so I won’t, other than to say my first impression of Elroy was greater than that of Jet.

Pure and simple, Streetkid Vandal owned Cherry from first chord to last. It was controlled aggression. Bass frequencies rising from the floor at regular intervals. Overdriven harmonics floating through the ether. Craned necks and spilled scotch, t-shirt will have to go in the wash after only one wear. Hate dancing but can’t stop moving my body in a way which could be argued thus. On a makeshift podium for a better view. Don’t care if people think I’m a tosser.

Vocalist/Guitarist Kelly implores us to “punch the person next to you”. Girlfriend thought he said pash. Not now. Busy.

This band’s performance aesthetic is complemented by wonderful musicianship. The use of two vocalists works very well. And I have so much respect for a guitarist who can play with his back arched beyond 200°. The music itself is riff-laden with a distorted jangle, which harks back to 60s. Their amped-up cover of the Easybeats’ ‘Sorry’ articulately expresses this vibe. I’m thinking somewhere between the homage approach taken by You Am I and the excessiveness of the Datsuns. Their attitude and reason-for-being seem close to that of Jet. A big f**k you to those who, through their own insecurity and lack of intelligence or any real talent, gave them grief growing up. Living the dream of justified revenge. The same types who drawled “that was f**king awesome” upon the band’s departure. Converted. For good or bad, who knows?