Live Review: Eagles Of Death Metal, Rocket From The Crypt, Mutemath

We get to the venue early for this primo Sidewave triple-header and find Mutemath are already a fair way into their set. Even though they do some way-out jams, it's always a precise and very math-rock affair. Drummer Darren King uses the old 'water on the drum causes effective splash' routine to kick off the band's extended closer. Oh, come on, Paul Meany! Don't pass your hobo DIY keytar over to audience members. Of course the resulting sounds are shit! We start thinking that Meany's “last song” call for Reset was premature, since it seems the length of four or five songs. The fairylit lilo comes out for Meany to crowd-surf on and these days Mutemath are just gimmick after gimmick. Spewin' we missed Blood Pressure (if they even played it) as well.

Rocket From The Crypt take their sweet time sound-checking. And is that a weird version of The Star-Spangled Banner? When the band eventually arrive onstage in their matching black and white uniforms, we note that The Hives could share a stage wardrobe with this San Diego outfit. Frontman Speedo (aka John Reis) incorporates an extended spoken word segment.

How frustrating is it when a chick immediately in front of you decides to put their hair up into a high ponytail? Arrive with your style in place, bitch! Reis comparing jetlag to AIDS in his banter raises eyebrows and is deemed poor taste. Not many of the band's songs sound familiar to this set of ears, but Dick On A Dog takes us there and the band play impressively. Not as impressively as Hot Snakes (another of Reis' projects) at Meredith 2012, however. 

Set-up time for Eagles Of Death Metal is ridonculous. A punter is clocked taking a happy snap of a roadie's plumber's crack. Yep, we're that bored. It's now 15 minutes past the advertised starting time. Jesse Hughes (aka Father Badass) keeps us hanging. Audience members get restless: “EA-GLES! EA-GLES!!!!!” (Please note: Hotel California will not get an airing tonight.) Of course we forgive Hughes – the god of rednecks – the millisecond we clap eyes on him. His outfit of Boots Electric ice-lolly t-shirt and ass-hugging jeans held up by black bracers is perfectly offset by that shiny red Maton axe. Where to start on this dude's overt sex appeal!? The ratio of laydeez to blokes is about 75/25. And most in the crowd resemble The Big Bad Wolf in The Three Little Bops cartoon: eyes popping out of our heads, tongues rolling out onto the sticky carpet (almost). Hughes is undeniably lascivious, his knee-knocking dance drives us wild and when he produces a comb out of his back pocket for some mid-set grooming à la The Fonz we wish we had smelling salts on hand. These guitars sound the dirtiest and “Diamond” Dave Catching looks like a member of ZZ Top with that lengthy grey beard and has the skills to match. Just add Brian O'Connor on bass and Joey Castillo on drums and we're at the mercy of their hypnotic beats. Set highlights include the usual suspects I Got A Feelin (Just Nineteen) and Cherry Cola and Hughes makes So Easy sound like a lifetime goal. When Hughes riffs up a storm with Catching, his expression says, 'Am I fuckin' dreaming, or what?'

His own music makes Hughes feel super powerful enough to don a shiny red cape and this is how he reappears solo for an encore, which includes a Takin' Care Of Business cover, way after midnight. When Hughes is rejoined onstage by the rest of the band and they close out this evening with the face-melting Speaking In Tongues, we have all been baptised by Father Badass. Must he dote on his 23-year-old porn star girlfriend? It's time for a cold shower.