Wallaby in my Gang
The Big Day Out is more than just an Aussie Lollapalooza; it's an excuse for bands to behave badly. Hole, The Cult, Primal Scream, The Offspring and Luscious Jackson were among those who didn't give a XXXX...
"LAST TIME we were here, we got fuckin' thrown out for being drunken and degenerate," confesses Ian Astbury, on stage in front of 28,000 people at Melbourne's Royal Showgrounds. The second stop for the Big Day Out, the Antipodean equivalent of Lollapalooza, is The Cult's first Australian show in eight years. Their last, legendary appearance was a drunken, destructive, cocaine-fuelled affair, after which the band annihilated everything on stage. Rumour even has it that their then head of security, a fearsome, former Scottish Guardsman, emerged from the ensuing fracas with someone's teeth embedded in his fist.
Sadists seeking a repeat performance today are to be disappointed. The Cult defy both the cynics and and the blistering sun to deliver a captivating and energetic set. Starting with a stunning 'L'il Devil' and peaking with the sublime 'She Sells Sanctuary', it is largely a greatest-hits package, including recent singles 'Star' and 'Coming Down'.
On the band's British tour late last year, it was The Cult's co-founder, guitarist Billy Duffy, who most impressed. This afternoon, however, all eyes are on Astbury, who swaps his former dramatics for an incredible physical energy, bounding and dancing about the stage. Wearing old, snakeskin-print leather jeans and a tight, black T-shirt, he shows off the fit, slimmed-down shape he has achieved by running every day. He pauses only to address the audience in his odd, Glaswegian-transatlantic accent.
"This one's an AC/DC cover," he says of 'Love Removal Machine', the last song in their 50-minute set, before launching into a chorus of "Getyour rocks off, get your rocks off Bobby".
"I'M TOTALLY FUCKED, man," drawls Bobby Gillespie, backstage. Primal Scream's slot on today's bill precedes The Cult and Ministry, but follows Hole, The Offspring and the Screaming Trees. By all accounts, their gig in Auckland, New Zealand— the first stop for the Big Day Out—was embarrassingly bad. "Oh, it's not the gigs," explains Gillespie. "It's the other stuff. You know, going out and that."
Perhaps he's referring to an incident on the flight
to New Zealand, when, during a brief stopover in LA, the plane's captain decided that the band did not make for suitable passengers and refused to let them back on. Consequently, the Primals had to spend two days in the airport waiting for another airline that would have them.
For the supposed state of his health, however, Bobby doesn't look too bad. In his tiny dark denims and matching jacket, his hair cut short, he could easily pass for 15.
"Bobby is absolutely adorable," says Astbury. "He's just so sweet, like a lost, little boy. I almost want to put my arms around him, take care of him."
On-stage, Primal Scream could certainly do with some assistance. Denise Johnson takes over on tambourine duty because Bobby needs both hands to hang on to the mic stand. By 'Jailbird', the second song, every exit from the arena is bottlenecked by crowds making their way to the three smaller stages, where the likes of Luscious Jackson, Fun-Da-Mental and local bands such as Underground Lovers and Supergroove are playing.
At the familiar whistle of the taped intro to 'Don't Fight It, Feel It', with Bobby nowhere in sight, Denise struggles to save the day. Four people in the front row clap after 'Funky Jam', and only 'Rocks' gets any of the audience to dance. Gillespie makes a brave stab at 'Cry Myself Blind' but the rest of the band sound utterly soulless. By 'Call On Me', feedback kicks in and Primal Scream limp lamely to the end of an awful set. Backstage, Bobby blatantly ignores the ►
By Lisa Verrico
Pictures by Tony Mott