OPINION: The Five Stages Of Grief In Saying Farewell To Shihad

Apparently, there are five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. No-one mentioned FUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKK!!!! Because that’s about where I am with the recent announcement that one of the great rock bands of our times, Shihad, are calling it a day.

Last week, some cryptic SM posts came up, and there was some speculation that the band was coming to an end; that was my denial phase… nah, they’re just going to announce a tour. Then, a few days later, a picture with all four members dressed in black—not with standard no smiley rock n roll faces on—these were sad faces. Faces of a band that’s not going to be around anymore.

I passed straight through the anger phase. How can I be angry at a band that has given me and so many others so many good times over three and a half decades? I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen them live. Festivals, pubs, indoors, outdoors, it didn’t matter; it was loud and sweaty; we threw horns, punched the air, and screamed our well-lubricated throats dry.

You’d do whatever you could to get to a Shihad show.

Okay, they’re playing way over the other side of town. I’m gonna need a six-pack and a cut lunch to get there. Who else is on? It doesn’t matter. Shihad is playing, and I haven’t heard their latest record, Old Gods, live yet. It ends up being a great bill, actually. You Am I, Magic Dirt, and others I missed because I can’t remember, but it was important at the time.

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Have you heard Old Gods? What a cracker of a record. I’d say it’s as good a record Shihad have recorded, right up there with The General Electric and Pacifier albums. Phil’s big tough riffs, a killer bottom from the engine room of Tom and Karl and Jon spit out the lyrics of a world on the brink in one of his career's most punishing vocal performances. The next time I saw them, I had to take a sickie and head down to Coolangatta to catch what I’d hoped would be an Old Gods-laden set; it was.

I remember one Livid Festival; I think The Cure headlined that year. I was working for triple j, which, at festivals, was a double-edged sword because you got to go to the festival for free, but you had to work as well. Hopefully, whatever bands you wanted to see wouldn’t clash with your work commitments. Not grumbling, I know how fortunate I was.

Many J folk came up for Livid, and my good mate Francis Leach had come up from Melbourne to hang at Livid. I had some work commitments, but I was hopeful I’d see some of Shihad’s set under the Big Top.

I finished what I was doing and made a bee line for the big top, as I neared I could hear them already playing. I needed to find Francis, too. He’ll be near the mixing desk, which is where we always stand if we can. They’d just started The General Electric, still my fave Shihad track, that monster riff ripped through the tent and there he was my comrade in air guitar, peeling off air power chords like a demon.

I’ve punched through the other stages of grief and am finally at acceptance. I’ll strap on the air guitar for one more time at the Tivoli in Brisbane and sing myself hoarse… maybe Wellington, too? I’d better start saving.

Shihad will embark on their farewell tour in early 2025. Tickets are available now via the band’s website.