Cringe Time For Oz Rock At Endeavour
Sydney Morning Herald
Monday January 26, 1987
BEHIND the stage and across the road, the early afternoon golfers seemed unperturbed by Mental As Anything's multi-decibel noise as it blurted its way into their would-be Arcadian bliss.
At the entrance to this Botany Bay football field, the distinct lack of queues at the ticket window seemed curious. Australia's Woodstock this clearly was not to be.
And that was the strange thing about Australian Made. Such has been the air of jingoistic frenzy surrounding the event that foreign reporters may well have received the impression that this country is readying itself for a military invasion of New Zealand and all points east.
"We're making history now - Australian Made!" announced I'm Talking's Kate Ceberano. "Proving that Australian music is definitely the best!" declared a consistently daggy MC between sets, before emitting some nonsense about"showing the Yanks". Proud to be Australian? It was enough to make anyone cringe deeply in his boots.
In truth, once you stripped away the corporate hype and self-congratulatory breast-beating, Australian Made turned out to be a modest, efficiently organised pop concert in which several thousand Sydney youths enjoyed themselves in the sun. As the day wore on it seemed less like a festival and more like a Jimmy Barnes and INXS concert with a few well-known support bands thrown in. The changeovers between bands were swift, encores a rare occurrence.
Certainly few myths about Australian music were challenged. The Mentals had opened with good-humoured lack of pretension, wearing suits that could blind from a hundred yards (sadly one of their horn players collapsed on stage). About halfway through the day, the music had sunk into a morass of basic, tried-and-true Oz rock, the Endeavour Field transformed into a giant open-air pub with no beer.
Although popular on Saturday, the audience shortfall perhaps indicates that this music is not nearly as popular as the industry has led us to believe. "JIMMY!" yelled the crowds as Jimmy Barnes unleashed his brand of head-splitting boogie while the sun set decorously behind him.
"Barnsy", as he is known to his fans, demonstrated a vocal technique which sounded as though his throat was being ripped to pieces by a pack of severely irked hyenas.
Preceding Barnes, The Divinyls had opted for a brand of quasi-heavy metal that had the same effect on the brains of the unconvinced as a grenade on a crowded restaurant. As evidenced by Pleasure And Pain, The Divinyls are a potentially bright pop act, but live they're severely hampered by their determination to exaggerate the limitations of Oz rock. Chrissie Amphlett, truly the Angus Young of female singers, lifted her shift, skipped across the stage and generally showed symptoms of terminal rockism. I grimaced.
Of the trad-rock bands, it was The Saints who came out ahead. Bear-like singer Chris Bailey couldn't help but endear himself as he quipped and rolled around the stage looking almost embarrassed at being in such hype-ridden surroundings. Aided by a nifty horn section, The Saints' current music is pretty limited stuff, but on Saturday showed an undeniable warmth of character. On a tempestuous Temple Of The Lord they were joined by Barnes and I'm Talking's Kate and Zan to much audience hysteria.
The presence of I'm Talking as third act on the bill was an indication that suburban Australian audiences have subtly changed (a few years ago a dance/soul group like this would probably have been canned off). While their rhythm section suffers in comparison to American funk bands, they compensate with personality and a string of great, effervescent pop songs. As Kate Ceberano skipped across the rim of the stage, the group's lack of big international success seemed increasingly anomalous.
While the Triffids reportedly go down wildly in places like Holland, the indifferent reaction they received here shows that our problem is maybe not so much cultural cringe as musical illiteracy. This accessible band, with its brooding, metaphorical lyrics and mature blend of influences (from country to The Doors) fell largely on deaf ears. Still, they hadn't been played on 2MMM 10 times a day, had they?
It was good to see them on the bill. The way Australian TV and radio consistently ignore quality Australian music (where is their patriotism, one might ask?) while baby-feeding its audience with mediocrity is the real issue raised by Australian Made. The wild enthusiasm afforded INXS (closing the show) and The Models showed yet again that local audiences feel most comfortable when faced with an unthreatening mediocrity.
The Models are basically an Anglicised version of the American-leaning INXS- a few simple riffs and harmless lyrics, served up with the Britpop trappings of smart suits and girl backing-singers. Gleamingly efficient, they lacked attitude and soul. The all-in-white INXS showed they had one or two rousing anthems and a lot of eminently forgettable filler, and were received rapturously. Why are they popular? Look at Michael Hutchence and you have it: sex appeal.
Barnes and Hutchence ended the event, as expected, with their current Good Times single, joined by Bailey, Amphlett, The Models' Sean Kelly and Triffids'David McComb. A spectacular fireworks display above the stage capped it all before we went quietly home to nurse sunburns and ears.
© 1987 Sydney Morning Herald
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