Despite spring having sprung, last Saturday was yet another brisk evening in Brisbane's Fortitude Valley.
I join a motley crew of fans already gathered outside the Crowbar for an evening with Cherie Currie for her Farewell Australia tour (13 September). I'm here because she didn't play Brisbane last time and this is now the last time this iconic music legend will perform live in our country, let alone our city. I admit FOMO played its part in bringing me.
Melbourne's up and blazing five piece, Hot Machine are our first music treat of the night. Rather than an entrée delicacy, I get the very early impression we are being served up a hearty five-course banquet instead.
Sammy O'Keefe (vocals), Jess 'JT' Turner (guitar), Brittany Britten (bass), Sarsha Marsden (guitar) and Jessica Maio (drums) let it rip out of the side of stage stocks and, going from zero to blistering in a few notes.
Hot Machine - image © Clea-marie Thorne
O'Keefe struts and howls like she's fronting a back-alley brawl, flinging that voice across the room in 'Red Hot Summer' and 'She's On The Money'. JT and Marsden shred and trade riffs, one minute thick and crunchy, the next sliding into sleazy bends that hit you square in the gut.
'Fuel To the Fire' sees Britten lock it down with a filthy groove, hair flying, grin plastered on, as Maio smashes her kit with full-body hits, rolling fills that drive everything harder.
Without a breath they're into 'Shots Fired' and then 'Bad Hand', backed up by 'Night Rider', each one sounding like it's been built for beer-soaked bar fights.
I spy Currie side of stage taking it all in, and by the time they crack into 'Eight Ball Blues' and the scorcher 'Burnt', it's obvious these aren't just support-slot hopefuls – they're running their own race.
They slam through their glam-stomping cover of 'Heartbreaker' and floor it into 'Speed Machine' and 'Sweet Lick'. The room's already theirs, but the closer 'Rough Riding Rebels' has punters roaring, arms in the air and voices cracking.
Hot Machine - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Just when it feels like it's done, Currie herself storms onstage to a roaring cheer, grinning, asking if we want more from the quintet. Of course we do! Hot Machine take that opp' and tear into an extra unlisted number that isn't even on the set list.
They smash it like they've been waiting to let this one fly. It's a victory lap, a cheeky encore gifted by the main act, the crowd lapping it up like flames dancing on petrol fumes.
Intermission has a lot of punters talking about the support act, buzzing about Currie, and debating who adores her the most! A bloke next to me reckons he had her poster on his wall in '77. His friend just laughs and says: "Mate, you still do."
The stage lights remain dimmed during changeover, even while the band flocks to the stage. Jake Hays (drums), Cherie's son, is settling behind the kit, clearly born to this life. The room's buzzing; punters are either taking in the broad view from the elevated rear-room vantage point or, like me, standing shoulder to shoulder.
All of us, however, are half-cut on tinnies and memories of teenage rebellion and childhood dreams of the idol we are about to see in the flesh. The time is now and out struts Cherie Currie in her new black Cherry Bar battle jacket and camo jeans. She's swagger, big presence stuffed into a petite frame.
Cherie Currie - image © Clea-marie Thorne
The place of course is going ballistic at the sight of her. Currie, Hays, Nick Maybury (guitar), John Ashton (guitar) and Blane Barker (bass) smash straight into 'Queens Of Noise', Hays cracking down on the kit so hard the floorboards are trembling.
Without letting us breathe, they roll into 'California Paradise'. Currie belts it like she's still fronting The Runaways in '76. Guitars are snarling and cymbals crashing, as the whole front row spits lyrics back, beers getting lifted like victory flags. It's chaos and it feels bloody perfect.
Currie's grinning, throwing cheeky jabs between songs and giving us intense serious stares at other times. "They made a movie from my book. Anyone seen 'The Runaways'?" she asks, before launching into her glam-stomping cover of 'Roxy Roller'. Maybury slides and shreds like he's covered in glitter and grease as punters are howling along.
Things heat up onstage before Currie realises the stage crew forgot her fan – not great for menopause, she reckons. Well Hays quickly comes to her rescue. Already dripping with sweat himself, he gives up his fan for his Ma. What a lad!
Cherie Currie - image © Clea-marie Thorne
After setting up the fan, she tees up 'Mr. X' namedropping Slash and Duff like it's no big deal to have collaborated with them, the bloke next to me just mutters: "F... me dead." I'm thinking he can't believe he's hearing it live.
'Rock & Roll' turns Crowbar into a pub choir, the "it's alright!" chorus blasted back into the mic as Currie gets down on the floor with the crowd and walks among her fans. Currie soaks it up while keeping the band on its toes, mixing up the order of the set list.
Later Hays puts her back on-track and blames it on the menopause, LOL! I'm so swept up with it I'm not sure my notes are going to be in the right order either! Can I blame it on the menopause too? Ha!
Cherie Currie - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Then she brings it down with 'You Wreck Me', telling the crowd it came out of a relationship and asking us if we've ever had one so bad; half the room nods, before we help her to belt out the chorus as loud as our lungs will go. One woman in the corner is crying while still singing – it's that kind of moment.
Currie's voice on 'Rock & Roll Oblivion' is wild. She can still hold those long, sustained notes as they cut through the sweat haze like a blade. Hays is locked in with Maybury's guitar like the two of them are duelling for bragging rights.
'C'mon' fires up with Maybury peeling off a solo that's scorching the roof, Hays driving the groove underneath like he's steering a freight train. Currie pauses to talk about Sandy West, the late, great Runaways drummer who gave Hays his first lesson.
"When I'm onstage with Jake I feel like I'm onstage with Sandy," she said, before they teared into 'Is It Day Or Night?' with Hays dropping that pounding Sandy-style groove. He nails The Runaways' sound to a T, proving it right in the moment as he leans into the snare. The crowd just erupts, like everyone realises at once The Runaways' heartbeat is alive and kicking right here on the Crowbar stage.
Cherie Currie - image © Clea-marie Thorne
One of the Hot Machine members gets a little personal fan as a replacement for Hays, who is dripping sweat all over his tubs. How thoughtful. They keep the sweat level high with 'American Nights', Hays hammering out a beat that's pure muscle, the whole room bouncing in time, pint glasses shaking on the bar.
Currie sneaks proud little looks back at him between lines, as punters chant the chorus like they're 20 again, every thump rattling ribcages. I tell ya, I reckon I'd line up in a heartbeat to see Jake's band Maudlin Strangers play a show here – the band is lit!
Then the moment everyone's been itching for – Currie struts up to the mic and spits "Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-CHERRY BOMB!" The place detonates. Currie points the mic into the faces of screaming punters, so they can hear themselves roaring over the speakers and singing along with her.
Drinks go flying, blokes slap their mates' shoulders. I reckon absolutely every punter in the joint is shrieking along like they're 16 and dangerous again. Currie takes a breath and cracks a grin, talking about turning 66. "I'm a 'Golden Girl'!" she laughs.
I can't help but look at her and wonder how her small, lithe frame can wield a chainsaw! I guess it makes sense, from the way she still handles a song and rock performance – it must take similar focus to get such similar outcomes: sharp, powerful, a bit dangerous but carved with precision.
Cherie Currie & Hot Machine - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Man, the years have not dulled her, if anything they've given her an edge no one else has nor could claim at the same age. She's back for the encore and has returned with Hot Machine for her finale. It has front-row punters beside themselves. We strap in to watch her pay homage to one of her biggest influences, Bowie. It's 'Rebel, Rebel' and it is the perfect closer.
Even if Hot Machine aren't totally cued on the lyrics at first, we help them along screaming "hot tramp, I love you so!" I've still got goosebumps; maybe it's the ghost of Bowie I feel, right here shaking his booty and singing along with us. We're buzzing.
Fifty years since The Runaways kicked the door down and Currie's still swinging the axe, whether it is a chainsaw or microphone, it doesn't matter. Tonight at Crowbar she proved she can cut straight to the bone.
More photos from the concert.
