Live Review: Soundwave Festival, Day Two

They clambered in, some of them still caked in filth from the day before, others fresh-faced and in their best black t-shirt.

Day two of Soundwave’s farewell stint in Adelaide. Slipknot. Marilyn Manson. Smashing Pumpkins. Slash. Based purely on the lack of parking anywhere even remotely close to Bonython Park, one could tell this would be a bigger and better day.

If ticket sales really were as “pathetic” as Maddah would have us believe, it was pretty hard to tell today. Perhaps everyone bought one-day passes instead. Early on at the punk-oriented stage a small but enthusiastic bunch gathered for The Wonder Years, then a more respectable throng appeared for stalwarts Lagwagon and held their positions in front of stage for The Vandals. These Californian punk old-timers proceeded to out-perform many of the stage’s younger bands, their infectious energy and goofy lyrics plying the crowd until a jubilant circle pit formed.
Throughout the gig their playing and singing was fantastic, tight, and in tune, with no obvious technological “assistance” - not something you can say for every pop-punk outfit! Warren Fitzgerald leapt about, pulled faces, and generally hammed it up for the audience, all the while peeling of the sort of guitar solos Tom DeLonge still has wet dreams about. After their songs about girls, pizzas, and diarrhea, The Vandals took a moment to honour Australian culture, by playing a blistering rendition of Mark “Jacko” Jackson’s I’m An Individual. It went over some of the younger punters’ heads, but was an hilarious and appropriate choice of cover material.

With the assembly of skaters and ferals growing ever thicker, perennial favourites Millencolin emerged and launched immediately into Penguins And Polar Bears. (Opening with a familiar hit seemed to be a strategic move employed by many bands at Soundwave). The crowd loved every second. Millencolin were obviously happy to be back in Australia, despite their Swedish bones struggling somewhat with the heat. Hey, no-one forced them to wear all-black outfits. Tunes from their forthcoming record sat comfortably alongside older material, suggesting that Millencolin are not interested in screwing with the formula that has served them well for more than twenty years.

Over on the main stage oval, where shade was again almost non-existent, Papa Roach were delivering their slickened-up take on modern hard-rock. They’re another band that gained commercial popularity in the early 2000s period when rock music was having a lot of identity issues and felt threatened by the rise of dance music. They definitely rocked harder than their contemporaries Incubus (and okay, for the Incubus fans - they did mention they have a new record coming out, but my comments on their performance yesterday stand) but Papa Roach win the award for dodgiest band name. They also bucked the trend of delivering a hit early in the set, and saved their most popular tune Last Resort until the end.

Marilyn Manson wandered on stage full of his own bravado as per usual, ready as always to deliver sermons to his devoted followers. Manson fans really are some of the most devoted fans you’ll find - they’re behind him whatever he chooses to do, and whatever other trends come and go. The band has continued to record and tour regularly even without the ravenous media that seemed to follow them in the very late '90s. The set boasted two covers - Depeche Mode’s Personal Jesus and Manson’s signature interpretation of the Eurythmic’s Sweet Dreams. Predictably, the congregation were most enthusiastic to hear The Beautiful People, still perhaps Marilyn Manson’s crowning achievement. He doesn’t look as good in make up these days, but he’s still got the edge-of-sanity scream and sleazy, drugged-up drawl that his followers drink up.

At the metal stage, Black Sabbath’s War Pigs came over the PA system, inspiring an impromptu singalong from the slightly older crowd anticipating the arrival of Judas Priest. Judas Priest are a properly legendary band, and deserve their place on a festival like Soundwave. The group did much for the popular image of metal by incorporating leather and studs into their stage wear well before anyone else had thought of it. The vocal stylings of Rob Halford bred thousands of imitators, and he’s often cited as one of the genre’s best singers. That said, it’s an acquired taste. With their trademark twin-guitar assault launched, Halford emerged from behind the stage in some sort of leather cape, his bald head reflecting the day’s punishing sun. Maybe that’s why he regularly ducked backstage whenever there was a lead break or extended section of music. Having not seen Judas Priest before, I’m not sure if that’s his usual habit, but it was a little distracting to have him disappearing/reappearing so frequently. They played a good selection of songs from British Steel, and their audience seemed genuinely thrilled - but there was something about the audio mix that was lacking, particularly in the bass department. Judas Priest certainly sounded like an authentic '70s or early '80s metal band, whereas the mixes for virtually every other group at Soundwave were bathed in thunderous, modern-sounding sub-bass.

Take for example Slash (featuring Myles Kennedy & The Conspirators). They sounded positively huge. Slash was, well, Slash, of course, in his famous hat and glasses, relishing the chance to play. He left no doubt as to his prowess on the Les Paul, playing the blues-inspired yet melodious solos he became famous for. His latest backing band is more than up to the task, too: Todd Kerns deserves special mention for his stratospheric backing vocals and solid bass work. Naturally, the 'Gunners material, which included You Could Be Mine and Welcome To The Jungle, went down the best. It’s kind of fitting that Slash’s live outfit is (arguably) the more popular and authentic live Guns’n’Roses experience - after all, it was his iconic hooks that made that band huge in the first place.

On Stage 5 a succession of fairly samey hardcore/screamo bands had played throughout the afternoon, each with its own posse of devoted fans egging them on. But things changed significantly with the arrival of Butcher Babies, yet another Los Angeles-based band (imagine being on that particular 14-hour flight!) The band is fronted by two girls, and this bears mentioning for one very important reason: They were one of only two bands on the whole festival (okay, three if you count Incubus) to include women. Have I missed any others? I may have, but the point remains that despite a fairly gender-balanced fanbase, the people making music at Soundwave almost all had cocks. Butcher Babies are proof positive that women can rock the fuck out as well as anybody else; and the guttural screams of Carla Harvey and Heidi Shepherd were truly amazing. They’ve been compared to Pantera for good reason, and their rhythm section is suitably punishing. The girls worked the crowd hard and leapt into the audience for their finale, high-fiving fans and promising to return soon. A definite highlight of day two.

It was a hard act to follow for melodic punk-poppers The Swellers, out of Michigan. They’ve been around for a while, supporting more familiar names in the pop-punk world. They had a fantastic, full mix and pulled off their live harmonies very well, with the small gathering of fans at the front singing along. It seemed to me they might have been better placed at the punk stage earlier in the day, than playing between Butcher Babies and Fucked Up on the catchall that was Stage 5.

By now the masses were dividing themselves between the visual spectacular about to take place in the arena courtesy of Slipknot, and the always-a-gamble The Smashing Pumpkins at the other end of Bonython Park. Look, whatever you think of Slipknot, their stage show is top-tier. Part Gwar, part Rammstein, all cacophonic metal, complete with real flames and fake blood and an enormous goat skull just in case you’re not yet convinced Satan is involved (he is.) I was only really familiar with Wait And Bleed, but I came to realise today (with the help of a friendly random who shouted me a drink) that for many fans of heavy metal, the songs are often secondary: it’s a visceral, undeniable experience that these fans are after - they want their ears bashed in with volume and pace, and their eyes fed with arresting images. I doubt anybody who witnessed Slipknot’s set left feeling disappointed.

Billy Corgan, on the other hand, seems to delight in disappointing at least somebody. Okay, that’s unfair - you can’t please everyone, and Corgan just wants us to get behind whatever it is he’s doing. This was the best 'Pumpkins gig Adelaide has seen since 1996 - faithful renditions of Cherub Rock, Bullet With Butterfly Wings, and Zero turned the front section into an old-school moshpit while newer material like Drum + Fife and Pale Horse was warmly received. Corgan was in excellent voice, and his latest band were great. Most of the time, drummer Brad Wilk (formerly of Rage Against The Machine) was inconspicuous - which is about the highest compliment you can pay anyone who has to play the role of Jimmy Chamberlin. Only Tonight, Tonight seemed to suffer heavily without Chamberlin’s pneumatic propulsion. As for songs like Heavy Metal Machine and United States - surely Corgan knows that these are among the least-tolerated pieces he’s ever seen fit to release? And as much as we love Bowie, covering Fame is hardly necessary when you have such a deep and fantastic catalogue! This was, overall, an enjoyable show, make no mistake. Even the United States jam was okay, but - and I’m sorry Bill - I’d rather a Starla or Porcelina or For Martha or virtually anything else, any day.

So, er, yeah. That’s it for Soundwave, apparently. Day two was about as good as any other stinking hot, loud, dusty, huge, costly Australian music festival has ever been in this town, and by the end of it all - soaked reeking of second-hand smoke and sweat - I couldn’t help but start to think I’m gonna miss it.