Sentimental Bullshit

The bowels of Rod Laver Arena aren't the most intimate setting for a rock show. For a large percentage of the concert going audience this is where they see their favorite bands. Why they would subject themselves to the merchandise, beer and toilet ques is beyond me. A typical event is going to cost you in excess of a hundred dollars, often to sit in the upper and watch stick figures prance and preen on stage. The sound isn't bad most of the time I suppose though most people who come here for gigs don't go anywhere else so aren't going to be the harshest critics.

Actually it is their version of criticism that is the target of this blog. Friday night saw Cold Chisel play the last of three shows at the Arena as part of their latest reunion. I knew I was in for 'a night' when the guys with mullets out numbered the girls with long hair. Yes, this was Bogan-ville at its finest. A quick visual survey of the T-shirts being sported by punters revealed an eclectic and, somewhat, strange crowd. There was the usual AC/DC shirts (2010 tour) and a spattering of Metallica (2010 tour) but the odd Judas Priest helped lift my spirits. Maybe this would be a the day that Chisel would ascend the radio friendly fair that had plagued my previous experience.

But alas, the number of morons in Chisel singlets (2011 tour) and cheap (but being sold for $20) headbands outweighed any sense of musical diversity. They were here to hear the hits. I could smell it in the air. (If you're wondering, the average Chisel punter smells like they showered and sprayed Brut For Men just for this night.) For myself, I wore my Zappa t-shirt, perhaps my most snobbish act in sometime. Without realizing it I was making a statement about my musical knowledge- that I was in to something that was A) classic, and B) not played on the radio. Like the brilliant two-set tour Ringside (2005 I think) that occupied Festival Hall I wanted to hear some of the lesser known masterpieces from Don Walker. Home and Broken Hearted. Hound Dog. Fallen Angel. Yakuza Girls. Maybe even Last Wave Of Summer.

Of course the power of Chisel is in its singles and these would be welcomed too. The importance of hearing Chisel on the radio can't really be understated. Keep in mind that Khe Sahn was banned soon after it debuted on radio for being too explicit in its description of the post-Vet mentality. What other band has ensured that abortion is a subject of mainstream radio? Or prison life? Don Walker's best songs have a meatiness to them. Their subject matter forces the listener to consider his contention and feel something for his protagonists. Other songs capture the working class mentality, and for the majority, this is where their love of Chisel was born. I won't begrudge them their moment with these songs.

But I'm cynical. The Arena is full of people who only see shows here. This for them is a gig, despite it having all the hall marks of a show, rather than a smaller, more immediate experience. I remark to my wife that it would be awesome to see Chisel at Byron Bay Bluesfest at Easter. Most would never see the charm of standing on the edge of big top in the driving rain with 20,000 people singing along. There is magic in the Autumn dampness. A magic rarely found in the Tennis Center. My cynisim is well justified as thousands scream during Standing On The Outside, Cheap Wine and Choir Girl, but then head for the bar and loo when they break out Things I Love In You (which was their friggin' COMEBACK single for pete's sake!) I remark this to my wife who nods approvingly. I sing along anyway, one of only a few nearby. (Actually there is one guy I admire. Despite his poor choice of the Nitro Tour black singlet he rocks out to EVERYTHING all night. His unbridled joy at everything the band do isn't contagious enough for the people around him unfortunately.) The same thing happened at Meat Load in October. The crowd was welcoming and forgiving of the poor vocals when they new the Triple M approved songs but fled, leading to rumours they had walked out, when he played newer or more obscure stuff (if you call Rock And Roll Dreams Come Through obscure- its off his second highest selling album!) The crowd here wants their radio songs and Chisel gives it to them. The mother's club shrieks when they finally recognise the beat to Forever Now. Never mind that the band had been jamming on the bass line for a couple of minutes prior. So feeling smug about my judgements I bask in the knowledge that I am better than these average punters. My dad shares a similar sentiment- at the Ringside shows he lamented the fact that the crowd stood and sang along for Forever Now and My Baby but not Shipping Steel or Star Hotel.

Then something happens. The occasion gets to me. Even though I loved that they played Hound Dog and appreciated the acoustic interpretation of Yakuza Girls there was only one moment that a I lost myself. When Jimmy croons, "Who needs that sentimental bullshit anyway?" I close my eyes and sing with him. The moment of magic arrives. Forget the irony of me enjoying that line but my shield drops to the size and I embrace the light. I'm not embarrassed. I'm not ashamed. In that instant I am one of the Triple M punters. There is a power to that band to transcend class, gender and, indeed, time and trends themselves. That's why we give up the intimacy to share the music with thousands of strangers. The radio song got me. It does every time.

They rip through Khe Sahn and the crowd sits down again for Bow River. I don't retreat to my shielded, superior, elitist views. I enjoy the encore of Saturday Night, Don't Let Go and Four Walls (my favourite song). By the time they rip through Goodbye and we've headed out I'm reminded of why I bothered. This was my wife's first time seeing THE real band play When The War Is Over and, of course, Khe Sahn. There was probably several thousand of them tonight who had only ever heard crap cover bands play these Australian classics. These were songs they grew up hearing and singing about trains heading to Vietnam. They deserve their chance to see it live and in-person.

Even if half those morons paid $20 for a plain white headband.