Live Review: Superchunk, The Meanies, Delivery @ Corner Hotel

Rock and roll has always been tethered to youth. A flashpoint of rebellion, energy, and invincibility that fades as quickly as it ignites. Listeners return to that flame not for nostalgia, but for the raw charge it once offered, a reminder of when life felt uncontainable. Some artists die young, but most simply carry on, acquiescing to age and applying their skills to more pressing concerns. Superchunk, however, defy the usual decline.

Decades into their run, they still channel the twitchy, restless urgency of their beginnings while layering in the bittersweet realities of adulthood. Their records from the past twenty years — and their electrifying live show tonight — aren’t just echoes of their youth; they’re bridges between then and now.

The Slack Motherfuckers of 1989 delivered Wild Loneliness in 2022, a pandemic era creation which singer-songwriter Mac McCaughan tells us is about “wild loneliness”, is proof that rock doesn’t have to grow up to grow deeper. Since arriving in Australia last week, McCaughan’s Instagram feed has been a steady stream of photos from their first visit in 1992, girding this connection with youth and Superchunk in concert in 2024.

Tonight’s show, the last of their five-date Australian tour, is sold as a blend of songs from their 1994 album Foolish, the thematic centre of the bridge. This was Superchunk’s first album since the romantic split of the band's founding partnership of McCaughan and Laura Ballance, both of whom remain creative forces in the band today. They were being courted by major labels and their response was to form their own, Merge Records, and make one of the best, and most overlooked, albums of the decade.

Melbourne band Delivery has been generating a great deal of hype since their arrival on the scene in early 2021. With a focus on vibe and riff, Delivery is the definition of a “great hang.” No song here will change the world, but you are going to hear some big riffs and have a good time. Their closing song, Baader Meinhof, is an organ-driven banger and the clear standout of a fun set.

“I’m a little bit drunker than I like to be,” says The Meanies’ charismatic singer Link Meanie. As soon as they launch into their opening song, You Know The Drill, a room of fans, mostly male, mostly in their early 50s, step back for a few seconds and mouth “fuck, it’s loud” to each other.

What makes The Meanies’ Ramones and Stooges-influenced punk different from the copious other bands hoping to channel the titanic sounds, is their commitment. Wally, Link and Ringo have been locking in with each other in various forms, on and off, since 1988, while guitarist Jaws Meanie sounds like he has.

On top of this, the voices of Link and Wally are right out in front of the colossal mix, and when you have voices that are this powerful and tight, it sounds like every other band who formed after hearing the Ramones and the Stooges wishes they did. Songs like 10% Weird and There’s A Gap, new single Zamboni, and the almighty epic closer Keep A Balance are all highlights of a colossal set. Whatever they had, they’ve still got. 

Superchunk open theirs with a reminder that they too have lost little in the way of energy and commitment since the mid-90s. Like A Fool begins Foolish, the album they are here to revisit, and its impact is immediate. From the fluid arpeggios that hang in space in the song’s introduction into the crashing arrival of the verse, Mac’s wiry, nervy energy still channels a power few other frontmen can summon.

He and longtime compatriot Jim Wilbur’s guitars twin and blend seamlessly. Bassist Betsy Wright and drummer Laura King are a perfectly matched rhythm section that invests their own personality into the songs without robbing them of their writers, Ballance and former drummer Jon Wurster. Saving My Ticket, Why Do You Have To Put A Date On Everything, and the peerless Tossing Seeds follow, each marrying the fiery energy and Mac’s reedy adolescent voice, an instrument that seemed transient in the 80s and 90s, one that couldn’t possibly survive one concert let alone a tour is, 30 years on, a gloriously expressive instrument.

As the closing chords of Package Thief are replaced by another round of applause, Wilbur steps up to the microphone. “We didn’t come here to fuck spiders,” he says with a slight nervousness. “Our friends in Cable Ties taught us that,” adds Mac. “It hasn’t caught on back home yet.” Further highlights from Foolish follow: Kicked In, Water Wings, Driveway to Driveway and The First Part sound as vast as Brian Paulson and Steve Albini made them on record.

The band close their set with What A Time To Be Alive, a song that can double as a political lament and statement of intent, before returning with a cover of Sebadoh’s Brand New Love, a song Lou Barlow “wrote the hell out of”, Mac tells us.

Over the last hour, Superchunk have proven their superpower is the ability to be youthful while middle-aged. Few songs can underscore this more than Hyper Enough, but one of those is Slack Motherfucker. Thankfully, Superchunk wrote both and saved them for the encore. As Mac thrusts the microphone toward the front rows so we can scream “motherfucker!” back into his delighted face, the band behind him grin widely.

The final song of the night is the furious punk rush of Fishing, one of the band’s earliest. Tonight’s rendition sees Mac seamlessly replace King on the drum kit while she takes Mac’s spot at the front of the stage. It’s a simple, fun bit of stageplay, but the joy that it evokes is another testament to how much the band are adored by the crowd. The emptied merch desk is another.