As I rock up to Brisbane's The Triffid, I run into a wall of anticipation emanating from the fans here to see D-A-D for their Greatest Hits tour.
I scan the beer garden; the crowd seems to be mostly older lifers, old-school heads in battle-worn merch, with a few younger diehards peppered throughout – jackets, bullet belts, bandanas, glam hair, the full tilt. Out here, burgers are being scoffed and the beer's already flowing down gullets.Like the herd of live rock music lovers, we migrate into the hangar space around 8pm and by the time Catalano stride onstage 30 minutes later, punters are looking nice and loose (22 May).
Catalano however, look like they've just finished welding a fence and decided to plug in. Off the bat, they're tight as a ratchet strap and twice as loud, kicking off with 'Alien Sh.t!' – a proper thumper, full of squelchy space-noise and face-melting riffage.
Punters down the front are already nodding along, working the rust off their necks. Sliding into 'R U Ready', and yep, the answer's yes. The crowd is fully clocked in now – fists in the air, chorus yelled back like we've all been rehearsing in the ute on the way in.
Catalano - image © Clea-marie Thorne
'Set This City' smashes in next, and it's got that punchy, sing-along-on-the-verge-of-chaos vibe that makes it impossible to stand still. Then comes 'BBQ BBQ BBQ'; apparently that's what the set list calls it. TBH, it's all meat, heat and a hook – what more do ya want? Fast and delicious, with a song title like that, it's a damn shame it's not long enough to qualify for Australia's new anthem.
'Overdrive' and 'Fall Awake' keep the motor humming, then 'Wildest Dreams' lands – rough, loud and weirdly poetic in its own sonic brilliance. They wrap it all up with 'Rock The World', and yep, they bloody well try. They leave the stage to a proper roar and a trail of buzzed punters scrambling for another round before the headliner.
Catalano - image © Clea-marie Thorne
A couple of drinks and some chit-chat, then finally! Danish rock & roll legends D-A-D are here. Laust Sonne (drums) takes his throne at the tubs, Stig Pedersen (bass) stomps out wielding his see-through bass like he's leading an alien invasion – the thing's glowing translucent blue, looking more like it belongs in a sci-fi movie than The Triffid stage.
They kick in hard with vintage classic 'Jihad' – a slamming, no-prisoners opener – before rolling into 'Girl Nation'. Jesper Binzer (vocals, guitar) claims our attention like a preacher and a pirate in the same skin, scanning the crowd with a cool calm but his eyes grinning at their fans. Glinting. Full of mischief. Jacob Binzer (lead guitar) anchors their ship, looking suave and totally oozing rock & roll in his signature top hat.
Not even two songs in, and Pedersen is swapping out his bass for a Maltese cross-shaped monstrosity that belongs in some warped 'Back To The Future' spin-off. He must claim possession of a whole museum of mutant basses by now and he plays all of them like they're warped extensions of his wild persona.
It's not full chaos down front, but there's still pockets of action – heads banging, bodies shifting, some arms thrown skyward like praise being offered in a church of distortion.
D-A-D - image © Clea-marie Thorne
'Speed Of Darkness' rumbles in next, then the jagged, thumping weight of 'Reconstrucdead' pushes the air outta the room. The sound's thunderous. Proper tight. These blokes still play like they've got something to prove.
'Soft Dogs' oozes in next with that cheeky grin of a track – half sleaze, half sneer. Then 'Grow Or Pay' absolutely rips. Guitars blazing like bushfire under a tin roof, Sonne is smashing skins like they're the faces of his most despised enemies. The instrumental drama hits like a boot to the ribs – raw, tight, loud as hell, locked in.
'Riding With Sue' brings that spaghetti western vibe to the back bar – outlaw swagger and rowdy sing-alongs, hips swinging and feet stomping. More recent track, 'The Ghost' haunts the air, slower and eerier – you can see punters properly absorbing this one, heads tilted, drinks forgotten, pulled into the fog like it's gospel on reverb.
By 'Something Good', the place is in full voice – actual choirs breaking out in the chorus, punters shouting like they mean it. 'Mother' and 'Point Of View' land right after – back-to-back punches of melody and grit.
D-A-D - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Then comes 'Rim Of Hell', and it's just filthy. Sleazy tones dripping off the strings, hips grinding, heads nodding, that chorus coming back from the crowd like it's echoing off canyon walls. Jacob is absolutely shredding, pulling notes like he's peeling chrome off a Harley. Licks being flung back and forth like stocks in a crash – panic, precision, and pure adrenaline.
'Everything Glows' bursts in and has the place lit – literally. Phones, lighters, the works. Then the band launches into 'Bad Craziness' and for a minute, it is – a swirl of bouncing shoulders, air fists, and one lone bloke somehow crowd-surfing across four people who don't seem to mind.
The end? Nah – nobody's fooled. They come back swinging with 'God Prays To Man'. Big, mean, and loud – not a spiritual experience, but bloody close.
Then Jesper leans over the mic, sweat pouring, eyes twinkling. "Do you work?" he asks the crowd. "Do you work tomorrow?" Bit of a cheer goes up. He nods. "Then we should stop playing," he smirks, 'because if we keep going. . . you'd have to sleep all day." He then asks us if we got that twist he just slapped us in the face with. Of course we did!
D-A-D - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Bang! Into 'Sleeping My Day Away' and it has the entire joint roaring. It's huge. Voices belting it back. The Binzer brothers inspiring fans to soak it all up with arms around shoulders. Pure unity in riff form. Some fans look to the back of the venue taking a few steps to leave, but they about-face when they realise D-A-D are not done yet as cheers erupt for their second encore.
'Laugh 'n' a ½' lands like a bittersweet gut punch showing yet another side of the band. It's got soul. It's got grime, and it's still got teeth. It's still not the end. D-A-D giving it up like a never-ending packet of rock-flavoured Tim Tams – just when you think it's done, out comes one more banger that melts your brain instead of your mouth.
'It's After Dark'. Soft. Slow. Devastating. The perfect curtain drop. One, last slow burner, stretching out the tension before snapping it clean in half. The Triffid's cooked. Ears are ringing. Smiles are wide, and the floor's littered with crushed tinnies.
A sea of satisfied punters ride the tide of deep satisfaction out the doors, into the cool night. No bloat. No fakery. Just raw, weird, wonderful rock & roll from a band who still have bite, and know exactly how to sink their teeth in.
D-A-D - image © Clea-marie Thorne
They came to make noise, move bodies, and remind every punter why rock's still worth the ringing ears; our reaction confirms why they travelled 15,000km to do it. Long live the noise. Long live the weirdos. Long live whatever the hell just shook The Triffid to its foundations.
More photos from the concert.
