Live Review: Veruca Salt, Bloods

When Veruca Salt announced early last year that the hatchets had been buried and the axes exhumed, it sent a flutter through the hearts of the Doc Marten and flannelette set.

Tonight that crowd has The Zoo at capacity with people waiting to witness the spectacle that is Nina Gordon and Louise Post performing together. While they wait, Sydney garage rockers Bloods get the party started. And playing to an audience who might not be as voracious consumers of live music as they were in decades past, they still manage to elicit a response with their quirky and fun indie pop punk material.

When American grunge/punk outfit Veruca Salt take the stage, something seems off. The renditions of the songs are all on-point – it just feels as though tonight is a reunion tour in the most cynical sense of the term. When Post gushes how Veruca Salt truly has the best fans in the world it feels saccharine to the point of inducing sickness. And there doesn’t seem to be any real affection shared between band members beyond presenting a spectacle of reunification for the crowd’s gratification. But even if the platitudes and banter feel well-rehearsed, so to does the music.

Sonically, they’re on fire tonight. Jim Shapiro’s kit booms across the room as Gordon and Post’s guitars clash and fuzz off of each other, the band accentuating nuances from their famous cuts. Veruca Salt also showcase their surprising versatility when they adeptly transform from the punkish venom of Straight to a whimsical rendition of Spiderman ‘79.

Over the years of inactivity, Post’s voice has only become more gravelly, while Gordon’s ability to make scorn sound like a lullaby has remained as perfectly sing-songy as ever. The juxtaposition between the two singing styles energises the set list.

Cuts like With David Bowie and Don’t Make Me Prove It feel vibrant and dynamic. Removed from the over-glossed Bob Rock production, all of the material off Eight Arms To Hold You sounds a great deal more powerful. Seether, the band’s ‘big hit’ is slotted in towards the end of the set and has the tempo jacked up as though to feel it’s being rushed through. However this doesn’t stop the room from going batshit mental when Gordon offers that first snarky “yeah”.

While it’s great to hear Veruca Salt so fantastically present the American Thighs and Eight Arms To Hold You material with the respect it deserves, walking out of The Zoo, one is left wondering how deeply buried the hatchets from the band’s past truly are. But then, if Veruca Salt keep playing shows as good as tonight, it probably doesn’t matter.