Brisbane's Fortitude Valley is absolutely crawling with eager punters from the mid-'90s.
It's easy to distinguish who is roaming Wickham Street in search of a club and who is roaming Wickham Street in search of Crowbar (19 December). Anticipation is teeming out of Crowbar's industrial windows, cascading past the headstone of the monumental ghost that is The Zoo.
Hidden behind the mask of a Spiderbait gig, Crowbar celebrates one of Australia's beloved intimate music venue's birthday week.
These Spiderbait fans leave no room for error – Crowbar's floor is at full capacity even by the intermission between Bean Magazine and Spiderbait. With a quick glance, it is clear I'm by far the youngest in attendance.
Nonetheless, the quick glance proves no upper hand. I am extremely lacking in style, attitude and experience; these punters have been reborn straight from the era that brought us Wolfmother and I have come completely unprepared.
Image © Kelly Warren
Ramones' 'Blitzkrieg Bop' blares through the house speakers with all in attendance cheering to the lyrics as a community. I'm on my toes (literally), and I don't know what to expect.
I'm conflicted as to whether the crowd will be overwhelmingly civil or understandably eccentric. With three minutes until the set begins, I am proved the latter.
The crowd signifies the entrance of Spiderbait before I even spot them – grown men are screaming behind me, whilst others are rushing back towards the barricade with brown liquor in hand.
Co-vocalist and drummer Mark Anthony Maher (Kram) takes the stage, hollering into his microphone as a hello (I'm sure the sound techs loved that). Lead guitarist Damien Whitty (Whitt) takes position onstage right as co-vocalist and bassist Janet English takes the left side.
Each member is effortlessly cool (if that's even a word to describe the scene onstage). Janet is sporting a Music For The Voice shirt as Kram adds a towel to his accessories onstage.
Image © Kelly Warren
With little to no time to waste, Spiderbait begins with 'Straight Through The Sun'. The room is engulfed in thumping bass drums and basslines. Kram's raspy vocals make everyone involuntarily head-bang and jump to the effortless riffs from Whitt.
Song after song, the music morphs into one. 'Chest Hair' begins to play, and I struggle to dance along to the beat (how can you bang your head along to a song in 7/8?), but that makes it even cooler.
It stops you in your tracks and makes you really listen and watch the performance. Each song ends with a swift wipe of the face with Kram's towel before the trio gets straight back into it.
Spiderbait leads into 'Tonite' as the stage is engulfed in a blue haze. English and Whitt serenade each other with their instruments during the slower song, giving each punter a brief moment to catch their breath.
Image © Kelly Warren
As the set reaches the middle, Kram dedicates 'F...en Awesome' to his two kids in the crowd who are following his footsteps in the music industry. Kram speaks of the importance of intimate venues like Crowbar, which allow smaller grassroots bands to make their way into the scene. The crowd cheers in shared camaraderie for Kram's kids, welcoming them sweetly into the Brisbane music scene.
The juxtaposition of moods between songs was a perfect intermission. Songs like 'Monty' made you head-bang, songs like 'Tonite' slow you down a bit, but songs like 'Old Man Sam' apparently make you go wild.
"We always thought this song was weird and stupid, then we played it at Big Day Out in Sydney, and they went batsh.t,” reveals Kram. And so we do tonight.
Some guy in the front row uses the stage to gain leverage for a crowd surf, and no one stops him. He surfs the front few rows of the crowd as Kram puts on his 'Old Man Sam' voice.
Spiderbait revel in the sense of comfort from this Brisbane crowd, offering more stories from their youth. Kram mentions how during the days of The Zoo, Spiderbait headlined a show which literally broke the floor.
The Zoo was closed for maintenance (until a benefit concert was held to raise money to fix the floor). Spiderbait was invited to headline, but according to Kram, it didn't seem like a good idea.
Image © Kelly Warren
During 'Calypso', the crowd goes "batsh.t," and English knows it. To any passerby on Wickham Street, I'm sure it sounds like a lovely, peaceful gig before those two hits of the snare lead us into the 'Calypso' chorus. Punters are yelling, people are head-banging, and the same guy is crowd-surfing again!
After 'Calypso', the crowd knows what is to come next. 'Calypso' was merely a practice of the crowd's energy, and 'Black Betty' is the performance of the energy. "It's time to break the floor, see you next time, Brisbane," Kram yells into his microphone.
The crowd is vigorous and angry, all whilst Crowbar's wooden floor remains intact. The extended cut is performed, and no one wants it to end. After several reprises of the iconic 'Black Betty' riff, the show comes to an end.
White house lights disturb all in attendance and emphasise the constant ringing in our ears. Happy birthday, Crowbar. Here's to many years of sustainable floorboards.
