Live Review: Cherryfest

Cherry Bar (“Pretty much the best rock'n'roll bar in the world,” according to their website – agreed) put on badass festivals and when the sun and rock gods unite you better be ready for good times. From the security guards to the doorlist bitch, bar staff to punters, you won't find anything past the makeshift curtains that block off the laneway today that isn't 100 per cent insanely dedicated to rocking out. Looking around gives you a sense that if you struck up a convo with anyone in eyeshot, the banter would be far from boring. This is our final opportunity to clap eyes on clear skies behind the AC/DC Lane stage where soon there will be corporate fuckery by way of Flinders Gate (189 new apartments). Good luck sleeping, you rich-but-ignorant tenant muthafuckers!

Master of Ceremonies James Young is easily spotted among the sea of black tees thanks to an aquamarine onesie and (bad to the) bone cowboy hat. Young takes the stage to introduce Dern Rutlidge, who gladly reformed at his request to play this fest. The tonal shifts of this band's riffs make your toes curl and Josh Homme would welcome this Melbourne outfit into his Dessert Sessions. AC/DC Lane's natural incline gives everyone a front-row seat and there's much enthusiastic skyward finger pointing plus thrusting devil salutes to punctuate the beat. One loon proudly brandishes at least five assorted event wristbands around each wrist, which makes him easy to find (or avoid) in the crowd. Multiple band members poke fun at drummer Callan O'Hara, claiming he's been with ladyboys during a Thailand getaway, but it could all be part of a genius ploy to make him pelt the skins with added ferocity. Their biggest hit Lines On The Table has shades of Gold On The Ceiling (albeit on smack) by The Black Keys and goes off at this arvo hour. The musicianship up there is outstanding, what with Blood Duster's Jason 'PC' Spiller on bowel-penetrating bass. If they play more gigs, we'll be there for sure (see you back here at Cherry Bar, Saturday 1 December) and their only album Johnny No Stars (2001) is first item on the Christmas list.

Back inside Cherry Bar, Canberra septet I Exist are brutal. There's genuine head-banging going on and whirling-dervish frontman Jake Willoughby inhabits the circle of fear in front of the stage, thrashing about and avoiding the advances of an extremely persistent, horny rock slut. Former Blood Duster guitarist Josh Nixon (also of Pod People) unleashes onstage and we feel for our ears. With gurns that would make Nicholaus Arson of The Hives look expressionless, some I Exist band members evoke criminally insane mug shots. They're entertaining as well as accomplished. 

The Cherry Bons (Jäger and ginger beer) have gone up for CherryFest (curses) but, hey! No one's forcing them down my neck. A record number of regrettable tatts assemble before the AC/DC Lane stage as well as the freakiest novelty contact lenses this scribe has ever clapped eyes on – kinda bejewelled blue. Playing Spot The Weirdo at CherryFest is next level! People who would ordinarily be refused entry at regular annual festivals are celebrated at CherryFest. They've played multiple Queenscliff Music Festival slots earlier this weekend and now King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard cram their shambolic act onto this outdoor stage. Got plenty of time for the 'Giz, but today's performance is lacklustre. Whether or not their brand of slacker surf punk is best served indoors at the witching hour is irrelevant, they should possess the ability to transfix punters right here, right now.

“Weed is welcome at Cherry Bar,” is how Young MC cheekily introduces Tumbleweed (aka the 'Weed) and one whiff says it all. As soon as the Wollongong stoner rockers get going, the laneway erupts. It's true – singer Richard Lewis can't sing for shit. But he started off as the drummer. Remember? He's got long hair, a lean physique and Axl Rose-inspired dance moves so promotion upfront was a no-brainer. “Vocals down!” screams a dude before a rock chick loudly defends, “It's 'cause he's getting old!” A dude to our right actually has a pointer finger in each ear. But the mysterious thing is Tumbleweed are peerless instrumentally, which more than compensates for their singer's almost-constant out of tune-ness. And the new material they preview is tremendous. There's lots of bro'-ing out in the crowd and Daddy Long Legs sprawls out and tickles our collective fancy. Herein lie blinding flashes of brilliance.

Inside on the Cherry Bar stage, My Left Boot sadly suffer by comparison. Matt Chapman showcases some impressive vocal chops, but the band plod along rather than soar. After collecting our free CherryFest souvenir t-shirts, it's time to brave the outdoor stage once more for Omar Rodríguez-López. Who's that chick up there dancing like Kate Bush, even when sidestage? It's Teri Gender Bender and this whole confusing, synth-driven racket sends us scurrying back inside harbouring memories of Rodríguez-López up onstage with At The Drive-In at this year's Splendour In The Grass. It's all very experimental and just seems a waste to watch the guitar wizard in this guise.  

Since my plus one is yet to experience Bob Log III, we prioritise getting a good posi inside Cherry Bar. It's pretty fun watching the reactions of a newbie to this one-man band and his Lurex onesie and sparkly motorcycle helmet with blue balloon ears (a tribute to Deadmau5, perhaps?) don't disappoint. We dance along to his hillbilly-inspired music and mentally prepare for Eyehategod.

Earlier research uncovered the below gem of a YouTube comment from “NocturnalHolocaust”: “EHG are the dirtiest motherfuckers around. Ladies, listening to their music while pregnant will cause automatic abortions. You've been warned!” Eyehategod have a song called Sisterfucker and are also friends of Anal Cunt. To add to this terror, I Exist described today's headliners as beyond heavy during their blistering late-afternoon set. Yikes! This pair of ears experiences extreme fear.

Earlier in the year Young brought out Fu Manchu, 'The godfathers of fuzz', to headline Cherry Rock and now we're introduced to 'The godfathers of sludge', EHG. They're playing on Australian soil for the first time ever and the smell of pungent BO (even though we're outside) suggests frothing long-time fans seek sonic salvation. Yes it's heavy, and Mike Williams' vocals farms the depths of hell, but their compatriots from Canberra (I Exist) come across waaaay heavier within today's bill so this reviewer's eardrums remain unperforated for now.       

Oh, inaugural CherryFest 2012 you deliver on all counts: The skankiest of skanky skanks? Check. Heavily tattooed overweight torsos letting it all hang out? In abundance. Face-melting riffs and hair-thrashing tempos? You know it. Absolute hearing thresholds tested? Pardon?