Live Review: The Beards, Greta Mob, Jimmy Swouse, The Angry Darts

27 March 2014 | 10:11 am | Chris AJ Coulter

They had a keytar, a guitarist dressed like a Hasidic Jew, aviator shades and a saxophone solo and provided one of the most fun performances this reviewer has seen.

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The taps had quite literally been taken over at the Jam Tap Takeover in the Jam Gallery. Ten of Australia's best-loved artisan breweries rolled the kegs in for this gig marking the triumphant return of The Beards to these shores after an extensive tour around Europe. With that much free-flowing beer and facial hair this gig was always guaranteed to be riotous.
Opening proceedings was Jimmy Swouse & The Angry Darts and angry they most certainly were – angry, pugnacious, sweaty, sweary and obnoxious, to be precise. With duelling guitars and bombastic rock histrionics they got things off to a flying start. With middle fingers held proudly aloft we were all told in no uncertain terms where we could go and what Jimmy Swouse thought of us. Why they were so angry we never quite found out but they made a fun racket. The jury's still out as to whether it benefitted the performance to get a full-fontal glimpse of Jimmy's most unholy of holes to round off the set but, as they might say, “fuck off”.

Following were Greta Mob, and was that a cheeky joint doing the rounds on stage for the first song? These guys must be real rock'n'roll. Sadly the first song was just bad – a meandering, loosely-constructed dirge. Maybe should've passed that doobie onto the crowd too, boys. When they got into their groove after a couple of songs though things picked up, especially with The Petit Bourgeois Blues and its tight, driving drum line. Overall though it was just a bit too earnest and try-hard and gradually the crowd retreated to the bars.

The main event and the reason why at least three-quarters of the crowd (including some laydees) were proudly sporting chin warmers were The Beards. Four bearded Goliaths took the stage and owned it. Their loyal followers welcomed them on to cheers of “Beards! Beards! Beards!” How a band managed to get three albums' (and a fourth arriving imminently) worth of material from one subject, let alone a subject pertinent to really only one half of the population, is a mystery, but The Beards have. The stagemanship was honed to perfection and they had the crowd beaming with glee, singing along and stroking the facial fluff of those around them. This was a virtuoso performance; they gave it their all, engaged with the crowd and proved that novelty doesn't need to equate with cheap laughs. They had a keytar, a guitarist dressed like a Hasidic Jew, aviator shades and a saxophone solo and provided one of the most fun performances this reviewer has seen.