Today's adventure at Red Hot Summer Tour is a proper all-dayer stuffed with Aussie rock royalty: Dallas Frasca, Rose Tattoo, Baby Animals, and The Living End. Plus, two legends from across the Pacific — George bloody Thorogood and the Destroyers, followed by the bearded bluesmen themselves, ZZ Top.
The Red Hot Summer Tour's been rolling hard this year, and this line-up's a proper treat (10 May). I dodge beach chairs and picnic blankets covering most of the damp turf on the hill, before hitting the sawdust-covered mosh pit – cheers to whoever sorted that.Turning back, I see both VIP elevated platforms are chockers too. Those punters with creature comforts should consider leaving their lofty spots at some stage and come mix it up with the hardcore pit dwellers, future rain dancers and pub choir.
Local legend Dallas Frasca hits the stage first, dragging half the early crowd into a stomping, blues-drenched sermon. Kicking it off with 'Anything Left To Wonder', she's wailing like Janis Joplin if Janis was raised in the bush and blasted through a Marshall stack. No really, Frasca's got that filthy snarl of a voice and a swagger that makes you look twice.
Swapping guitars like she's changing moods, Dallas pairs swampy fuzz with belters like 'All My Love' and my acoustic highlight, 'River Queen' – punching the soggy air with every glorious note. While the crowd's still filtering in, the heads already here are nodding, this early crew also hooting their approval.
More cheers erupt as Cam Wilson (her guitar tech) comes onstage to trade licks with her for a short stint during 'All My Love'. There's a pure muso-to-muso respect glow going on between them. A magic moment is upon us! Frasca sets into 'Let It Rain', and the heavens oblige, right on cue.
Not only did we get a divine Joplin cover earlier, but we get a Led Zeppelin medley, which is another great choice for the uninitiated ('Kashmir', 'Black Dog', 'Immigrant Song', 'Whole Lotta Love'). Frasca has laid down the benchmark for the day and the bar is high.
Dallas Frasca - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Punters use the break to scramble for more bevvies to loosen up their hips and lips, and to prep their vocal cords – they're about to become a bogan pub choir for round two with Rose Tattoo.
No warm-up, no easing in – just Angry Anderson and crew barging into 'Scarred For Life' like it's 1983 and they're playing a biker rally in the wild west. They smash through 'Rock 'n' Roll Is King' and 'Rock 'n' Roll Outlaw' – it's pure pub-rock grit. I go wild for their ripping version of Stevie Wright's 'Hard Road' and the classic banger 'Bad Boy For Love'.
Angry's still got that bark, spitting lyrics like he'd rather die than dial it in. Ronnie Simmons slides his guitar like he's trying to melt the fretboard. I reckon it's only the light shower that came down that kept us from catching fire.
Angry gives the crowd a bit of rebel banter, a playful wistful wink in the direction of one of the media crew for wearing a rebellious slogan on her shirt to daring the god of thunder to clap one about our ears.
Anthemic tones erupt as fans sing-along to 'We Can't Be Beaten' and a monstrous chant backs that up for 'Nice Boys'. Fifty years in, and they're still playing like the end of the world's nigh.
Rose Tattoo - image © Clea-marie Thorne
The rain picks up in intenseity. Someone tell Mr. Miyagi this ain't wax on, wax off – it's ponchos on, ponchos off, baby!
Baby Animals hit the stage next and tear straight into 'Rush You'. Suze DeMarchi's not mucking around. Her razor-sharp voice cuts through ears, hearts, and souls. A couple songs in, the sunnies are off, and she's staring down the crowd like a queen surveying her fandom.
Dave Leslie's guitar tone is molten, dripping with ripping solos through 'Waste Of Time', 'Painless', and 'Don't Tell Me What To Do'. Dario Bortolin and Ricki Rae are locked in behind Leslie and DeMarchi, tighter than your great uncle's wallet at Christmas.
There's a little political jab before 'Working For The Enemy', and the crowd roars in agreement. 'One Too Many' keeps things boiling, then they burn through Hendrix's 'Fire' – loose, wild, perfect.
Diehards down front lose it during 'One Word' and 'Early Warning'. Fists up, voices gone. We even get a thumping 'Ace Of Spades' cover. It's a celebration of all things Baby Animals with a nod to the greats. We're wrecked but roaring for more.
Baby Animals - image © Clea-marie Thorne
By the time The Living End arrive, the joint's packed. Every ticket holder must be here. The place is buzzing like a kicked ants' nest. Getting from the bar to the sound tent is like playing green-grass Twister with strangers.
I make it back up front when Chris Cheney launches into 'Roll On' and the crowd surges. It's brutal. Beers flying, pre-mixes airborne, and no one gives a toss about the rain anymore. 'Second Solution' and 'Pictures In The Mirror' light a fire under the pit. Cheney's not just playing – he's preaching. 'Hey, Hey Disbeliever' and 'All Torn Down' sound immense.
With Chris' guitar squealing, Scott Owen abuses his double bass and Andy Strachan's smashing the kit like he;s trying to crack the storm clouds. They drop a newie, 'Alfie', and it thumps. Then it's chaos: 'How Do We Know' tearing through, followed by a punk-snarling 'West End Riot'.
Next minute, we're neck deep in a bonkers medley of 'Waltzing Matilda', 'E Boogie' and 'Dirty Deeds'. It's controlled mayhem. 'White Noise' comes in like an anti-apology letter scrawled after a bender with the boys and dedicated to his missus.
They slam the door shut on their set with 'Prisoner Of Society', and we're all left as heaving, soggy messes. It's chaotic in the best way – like standing ankle deep in a muddy pit with a rain-wrecked mullet and a full heart. Easily the set of the day so far – these blokes are a live show institution.
The Living End - image © Clea-marie Thorne
George Thorogood & The Destroyers stroll out next like old pros. At 75, Thorogood's still got the snarl, that sideways grin, and a guitar tone that smells like bourbon and bar fights. 'Rock Party' into Bo Diddley's 'Who Do You Love?' and it's GO time. Greasy blues licks, honking sax, and that rolling groove – it's heaven.
'I Drink Alone' turns into a national anthem – punters belting it back, arms around mates. 'House Rent Blues/One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer' becomes a full-blown sing-along. Thorogood just loves how we Aussies say "beer". 'Get A Haircut', 'Gear Jammer' and another cover, Hank Williams' 'Move It On Over' are all gold.
Buddy Leach's sax is slicing through the night like a siren. A hilarious guitar swap made by a masked, furry-faced tech may or may not have been staged. . . who knows. Thorogood hams it up even more during 'Gloria' and we show him how we can spell too!
Finishing all too soon with 'Bad To The Bone' we're left lapping it up like gospel. Music is life, ain't it?
George Thorogood & The Destroyers - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Rain returns with a vengeance. Some punters leg it for shelter, but not me. I'm braving the wind and watching the final act – the one I've been waiting for: ZZ bloody Top.
There's a delay while the crew prep the stage. Then John Douglas sneaks behind the drum kit and the remaining two of the Texan trio, OG Billy Gibbons and Elwood Francis strut out in front of those retro-coloured Magnatoni stacks.
The crowd erupts at the sight Gibbons and his stage jackets bring a whole mood unto themselves. Tonight's Red Hot Summer Tour stop has him rolling out in one of his classic pieces that oozes dusty desert cool with a heavy Mexican twist.
It's a black, mid-length jacket, sharply tailored but worn loose, like it's been lived in for years and soaked in every note of Texas blues. The real eye-catcher is the ornate embroidery – Day Of The Dead-inspired motifs. Think cacti, floral bursts and stylised skeletons, all dancing across the fabric like spirits at a tequila-fuelled wake.
From a distance, it looks slick and understated, but once the lights hit it, those patterns come alive – shimmering subtly, like they're lit by a candle on a Día de los Muertos altar. There's a hint of cowboy, a bit of rockabilly shaman, and a whole lot of 'don't mess with this old dog unless you can out-solo him'.
It's a jacket that says: "I've seen things. I've played dives and stadiums and I brought a little bit of both with me tonight." Totally Billy. Totally iconic.
ZZ Top - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Francis dons a replica jacket, but you hardly notice as he is slinging a bright yellow 17-string bass that's in your face even though it's metres and metres away – and when he starts swinging that beast like a chainsaw, we know it's on.
They launch into 'Got Me Under Pressure'. Even with line-up changes – Beard's out due to illness, and RIP Dusty Hill – the sound's still thunderous. Angry Anderson got his wish for Thunder!
Billy Gibbons simply oozes cool; in fact, he is the epitome of it! 'I Thank You' and 'Waitin' For the Bus' are followed by the slow-cooked groove of 'Jesus Just Left Chicago'. That gritty guitar tone's untouched and Douglas is pounding out a solid, relentless backbone. He was born to play the tubs.
It's hit after hit now as we get 'Gimme All Your Lovin', 'Pearl Necklace', 'I'm Bad, I'm Nationwide' and 'I Gotsta Get Paid'. Fans are totally here for it, soaked through or sweaty beneath rain jackets or ponchos, but no one's complaining.
ZZ Top - image © Clea-marie Thorne
They even sneak in 'My Head's In Mississippi' and their cover of 'Sixteen Tons' and the first one from 'Rio Grande Mud', 'Just Got Paid'. Back to the ones anyone and everyone knows, starting the riot with 'Sharp Dressed Man' then 'Legs'.
Of course there's gimmicks – the furry guitar, the old bent strut, Francis flinging that ridiculous bass – but it's all part of the ZZ charm. This ain't a show – it's a legacy, and one we might never witness again.
Are they the same band they were 40 years ago? Nah, but that fuzzy tone's still slapping harder than a debt collector at your neighbour's door – or as hard as the bald bloke who just head-butted my knee in the pit. Ouch. How is that even possible?
I leave my post and hobble toward the hotel to beat the crush during 'Brown Sugar' from their first album aptly titled so too. 'Tube Snake Boogie' has the wet mob shaking their tushes. From the top of the hill, I can hear and feel the warm, slinky groove of 'La Grange' wrapping around me like a blanket. I know it's the closer and they're slow-burning through it.
The hips of fans are swaying and old blokes at the bar behind me are air-guitaring like it's their last shot at glory. Fans from all over are belting out the "a-haw haw haw-haw" into the wind while the rain comes tumbling down onto flapping ponchos – to be honest, there's not many in that mosh pit I can see bailing before it ends, unlike some of the hillside dwellers who've been packing up seats and blankets.
ZZ Top - image © Clea-marie Thorne
The whole day's been a sonic punch-on between Aussie grit and Texan swagger – and we're the lucky bastards stuck right in the middle. I wasn't taking any chances missing out on this blistering RHST line-up.
I'd stand in the rain, get muddy socks and cop a head-butt to the knee any day, if it meant getting me some live ZZ.
More photos from the concert.
