Reviewed onFriday July 15
For those living in the hope that pub rock is alive and well, the Factory Theatre can be a double-edged sword. While it attracts great rock’n’roll acts like Shihad, it also produces a special kind of attendant – the late-30s rocker desperate to relive the glory days.
Few of the latter showed for The Vanns, an Unearthed trio of great promise who looked every bit the sun-worshipping Kiama boys they are. For the first few tracks, the lads hammered through some enjoyable, energetic pop-rock, but something wonderful happened as guitarist Jimmy Vann announced, “We’re gonna play you some blues.” Suddenly the band transformed into a potent live act, ripping out a number that would make Jon Spencer proud.
Grenadiers lit a fire under the burgeoning crowd, attacking with a relentless set of punk-infused bangers, buoyed by Jesse Coulter’s cheeky and encouraging banter. They may, in fact, be the perfect pub band – their give-a-fuck attitude suited the crowd and space to a tee. After firing shots in Mike Baird’s direction, the boys dedicated their last track to Satan (praise his name) and disappeared into the black with a roar of approval.
Appropriately, the devil then welcomed Shihad to the stage in the guise of Black Sabbath. Jon Toogood’s big grinning face acted as antidote to the rising ire of the tipsy attendees, as did opening with ode to the good ol’ days ‘Home Again’.
“There’s nothing like real guitars on stage, right?” Toogood crooned to the adoring crowd, echoing Dallas Crane’s lament of the changing music scene sans bitterness. Shihad certainly made it hard to disagree, churning up the stage with the energy of much younger men in a chronological setlist covering their self-titled album, The General Electric, the Blue Light Disco EP and 2014 release FVEY.
It was in the latter half that Shihad truly shone – the churning wave of riffage that is FVEY is a force to be reckoned with when played live. Karl Kippenberger proved himself the core of the band as his fingers flew across the bass frets in ‘Think You’re So Free’, and the three-minute breakdown of closing number ‘Cheap As Fuck’ was enough to pull the Factory apart at the seams.
FVEY is anger incarnate, but for these New Zealand boys, it’s also sweet release. All that righteous pent-up fury dissipated, leaving them grinning and grateful before their devotees. Welcome back, guys.
