Rock for the Roses

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But first, a word from our promoter. The name Rock for the Roses stems (excuse the pun) from a young boy's attempt to pronounce his sister's medical condition: "cystic fibrosis" became "65 roses".
So that clears up that mystery. But there is another, namely, why did the Rock for the Roses event shift, midweek, from the Myer Music Bowl to the Queesbridge Hotel? And why did the charity shift from Cystic Fibrosis Victoria to the Australian Cystic Fibrosis Research Trust? And are the two events related? But I leave all that to my investigative colleagues. Let's to the music.

First up was Girl Pilot, a grunge pop band fronted by Sarah Maio with brother Rob on guitar. The first thing you notice about this band is that they are all very young - none of them would have gotten into this licensed venue if they weren't performing. The second thing you notice is that they all have an alarming facility on their instruments or vocals, given their tender years. The third thing is really an inverse of the "50-year-olds dancing and they wanna go more" effect I had noticed the night before. Older people, in this business, have experience, stamina and character to carry them through the more difficult gigs. Girl Pilot, as a consequence of their youth and relative inexperience, seemed a little diffident and inward in the face of a huge venue, a tiny crowd and an acoustic from hell. Permit me another little digression here. What were they thinking when they designed this space? It consists of a huge cupola (hence the cathedral feel) topped by an enormous skylight, over a polished metal dancefloor beneath it the shape of a half-moon and the size of a half a football field.

Plenty of room on the dance floor...

Much of this gigantic space seems to be surrounded by sound-reflective surfaces. I'd love to hear a choir recorded in here, but a great acoustic space for bands it is not. The sound guy fought his way through the first set trying to get some kind of definition into the sound, but it was an uphill struggle. I told him afterwards I wouldn't have his job for quids, and he replied, "At least the space isn't surrounded by mirrors." Thank heavens for small mercies.
As a few more people trickled in, it all sounded a bit less like someone bashing a Rolladoor in a factory, but not enough less.
Next band, mc'd on by radio's Dr Feelgood, were New Bedlam, a straight-out rock band with a lot of light and shade in their songs.

New Bedlam drummer goes nuts!

They were reminiscent of a 70s band in terms of their instrumental and vocal styling, without being overtly retro or derivative a la Jet. Without really sounding like them (certainly not in the vocals department) they reminded me oddly of Pavlov's Dog, perhaps because of that variation in song structure within an overall consistency of sound. Excellent lead vocals. Time for another orange juice

Next on were the Knockabouts, a reverently reproduced and fully-kitted out ska band, to the dedicated ska dancer on stage, the suits and hats and the irreverently wacky humour. Three brass players danced manically between unison riffs, and singer Grant, who is actually a cystic fibrosis sufferer, sang with address, focus and superlative confidence despite his incredible youth (all the band, like Girl Pilot, were under the age of seventeen).

Knockabouts: Keep yer 'ats on...

Grant, however, had the kind of presence that Girl Pilot lacked, and the crowd responded warmly to the overall energy of the band and the music. Although more soggy than tight in a couple of places, the band had some superb moments, especially on their excursion into a sophisticated and complex hard swing original. The 14-year-old guitarist Matt deserves special mention for not only having the balls to wear a schoolgirl dress but also for looking quite feminine in it - my colleague innocently remarked that it was nice to see a few girls in a band.

I guess society is progressing because I would have been horribly murdered if I had worn a dress in any context at that age. Now of course, I can wear a dress anywhere...err..I mean...oh, forget it.
The Knockabouts gave credit to their underage fans, hanging outside the door. With the current ban on underage/all age gigs in licensed venues in Melbourne, many potential audience members were shut out of the gig - in fact, The Knockabouts themselves, along with Girl Pilot, were asked to leave soon after they finished playing!

Which make one wonder, again, at the decision to change venues to the QBH...but on with the show.
The ska party feeling was taken to a new level by Nicky Bomba with his bouncy mix of reggae and ska.

Everybody know Nicky Bomba is a great frontman, but I was also struck by the superb clarity and precision of the band, and the beautiful brass work of trumpet/ trombonist Paul. The Knockabouts were hanging by the side of the stage, enthralled, as well they might be: Bomba was showing them how it was done.
As a regular part of their set, the Bomba band takes up percussion and wander through the crowd, settling into call-and-answer percussion breaks, then including the crowd, further warming their already partly-thawed souls. Nicky took advantage of the newly-installed counter at the dancefloor edge, doing a percussion solo on the metal uprights.

Close encounters of the Bomba kind

By this stage comedienne Tracy Harvey had taken the MC role from Dr Feelgood, and the crowd numbers were starting to swell, possibly in view of the fact that Ross Wilson was on soon. Those of us in the still-small crowd were beginning to realise what a good deal we'd got for our $25, with such a number of quality acts in a relatively small venue. I will say this for the QBH layout, everybody can find a spot where they can get a good look at the stage.

Josh Owens and his band displayed a welcome willingness to move outside the safe and limited chord/key structures usually associated with blues-based guitar-led trios. An honest and passionate presence a la Ben Harper helped Josh win the crowd - his superb guitar playing didn't hurt either.

Then it was time for Ross Wilson and the Urban Legends (containing most of the classic Mondo Rock line-up) to show us once again that old guys do it better. Wilson's voice is still beautiful: true, clear and soaring to the high notes. His stage persona, polished smooth after many years in the rocky stream of performance, and his songs, with their repetitive singalong melodic hooks, pulled in even the most jaded of the audience. Trim, and clad in dark low-key casuals, he seems to have weathered better than many rockers of his vintage.

Special mention goes to guitarist Eric McCusker for his controlled tasteful playing. Wilson finished with Eagle Rock, Come Back Again and, the first encore of the day, Daddy Cool. However sick he must be of playing numbers he wrote over thirty years ago, he performed them with enthusiasm and élan.
I took a break for lunch, to find on my return that the Resin Dogs had mysteriously not appeared - oh well, when you have a lot of top artists playing for nix these things can happen. Perhaps they came later. Perhaps they were at the Music Bowl wondering where the hell everyone else was.
Penny Ikinger launched a tight and aggressive assault - this woman has a killer rhythm guitar sound. A very tough, dour, introspective performance, it was too much for me - I decided that, although there were many fine bands to come (including Rose Tattoo, Tex Perkins and the Screaming Jets) my duty was done. I would stroll upriver, buy a soft serve and see how much of it I could drip on my pants before reaching the fashion parade of Southgate. Which I then did.

Penny Inkinger

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What about the music?

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So what's the problem? You failed to tell us what the music was like. Patient and attentive readers will finally find the word "funk" used in the second last paragraph when you are describing Benson's drummer and bass player demonstrating their alleged telepathy. I think it not unreasonable of me to say that if you had to choose a single word to encapsulate Benson's entire oeuvre this might not be the one. You do say that the aforementioned back-up singer is Donny Hathaway's daughter, but this is rather a cryptic clue to the nature of Benson's music.

George Benson had a distinguished career as jazz guitarist long before his string of vocal/guitar hits in the mid-seventies, and his music is always informed by that background. He is also an example of seventies jazz fusion, though jazz purists will sometimes deny this simply because he committed the unpardonable sin of attaining commercial success.

You tell us that the tour is "a night for lovers and true followers of Benson's glorious back catalogue". All his tours, and albums too, will remain for that select group as long as reviews do no more than describe his concerts as warm nostalgic experience for the select "in the know".

You obviously had a good time, would it be too much to ask that you let more people in on the secret by giving them some idea of what this music sounds like?

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