Live Review: Hard-Ons, Goon On The Rocks, Walken

Through some stroke of bad luck, or appropriately misinterpreted intelligence reports, Brisbane is bringing in Anzac Day with two legends of Australian rock'n'roll, the Hard-Ons and the Celibate Rifles, playing at different venues on the same night.

It sucks, because even the measly 15-buck door price to see the Hard-Ons can’t even seem to entice a bigger crowd down to Crowbar’s basement. Even if we don't remember/commemorate/celebrate/profit from (choose whichever best suits your ideology, lest we offend) this tragedy in 100 years' time, it still fucking sucks, in no small part due to the fact that Crowbar is pretty vacant while local hellraisers Walken get up on stage. The two-piece do the no-frills punk'n'roll in the style of Winnebago Deal and they do it well. They bash the shit out of their instruments with little heed to genre or style, only trying to make a big, loud, fast noise.

Watching Goon On The Rocks, you get a sense that they’re soon to take off on the same trajectory as Melbourne’s reigning punk-rock kings Clowns. A few more years and Goon On The Rocks could very well be the new vanguard of the national scene. Tonight, they go from jokey ska micro-songs to grindcore numbers to proper hardcore numbers.

What's funny watching both of tonight's support acts is just how much you can feel the ethos of the Hard-Ons — the vaguely fuck-you genre mash-ups, the extreme willingness for self-deprecation and that stereotypical punk rock sneer filtered through Australian larrikinism. Whether they fully appreciate the fact or not, these bands owe such a debt of gratitude to the headliners. 

Yet, for all their legacy and influence upon the scene, when the Hard-Ons get up on stage they do so without any fanfare. Most people in the crowd don’t know they’re about to play until they’re well into the first song; they don’t announce themselves and don’t walk out to the uproarious applause they deserve. It’s fitting as much as it is a travesty, but the trio seems unfazed. No-frills has always been a part of their modus operandi, and tonight is no exception. The closest the dudes come to any kind of real production value is taking their shirts off in tandem. Other than that, they just bang out cuts from the back catalogue.

They can switch between metal, hardcore, punk and power-pop with a dexterity of which the support bands could only ever dream. And when they hit cuts off last year’s Peel Me Like an Egg the fun keeps up; Burning Up on Re-Entry is one of the set highlights. And, then, with about as much fanfare as their entrance, the Hard-Ons exit the stage. Good one, lads.