Oils Gig Reviews

Enmore Theatre, Sydney, July 21 1998

Could it be a mere co-incidence that at the same time Pauline Hanson spreads her tyranny of hate around the country, Midnight Oil are road-testing their Redneck Wonderland? Probably not. And while the closest Peter Garrett could bring himself tonight to mentioning the Oxleymoron's name was a reference to the "H factor", it's obvious her parochial politics were never too far from Garrett's mind, amidst his less veiled raps about Christopher Skase, land rights and the struggle to maintain our rep as "a country with friends, not enemies". Maybe the only useful achievement of Ms Hanson's career is getting the Oils good and pissed off; hence their feisty new album and back-to-rocking-basics tour.

Act One of tonight's live experience was a selection of back-catalogue faves. These were played amidst the glamorous surrounds of Club Midnight Oil, whose decor featured blinking pokies, a dangling mirror ball and a neon sign which randomly pumped out buzzphrases and bistro prices. Think a working-man's version of U2's "Pop" set, if you will. They kicked off with a thumping "Hercules" and then powered onwards, through "US Forces" (complete with the dirtiest acoustic guitar sounds imaginable) and "King of the Mountain". Four songs in and Garrett was hunting for a contestant to spin the "Tim Fischer Memorial Chocolate Wheel", which determined just which hit' the band wheeled out next. Bazz from Newcastle was the lucky spinner, and they kindly presented him with a truculent "Read About It", which then led into "Only The Strong", "Blue Sky Mining" and a hand-on-their-heart take of "One Country".

Devoid of the production trappings that often mar the band's studio efforts, these old-time faves were stripped back and dangerous, powered by the crackling twin guitars of Martin Rotsey and Jim Moginie, anchored by Bones Hillman's fluent basslines, and kicked into the stratosphere by the deft skinwork of Rob Hirst, who's as influenced by Keith Moon's brawn as he is jazzman Gene Krupa's guile. In the world rankings, Hirst's right up there with Mellencamp/Fogerty skinman Kenny Aronoff; and his matching red top and drumsticks was a hard-to-beat fashion statement.

Garrett himself switched to red for Act Two, the Redneck Wonderland segment of the night. The pokies were shut down and the stage was transformed into a mock Jabiluka protest site - where the band recently made a big noise with Regurgitator and Coloured Stone - all hand-painted banners and eco-solid slogans. Decked out in a saggy, baggy suit that he might as well have swiped from David Byrne's closet, Garrett seemed more energised by the band's new material, which intermingles raw power rockers with deep guitar-and-electronic grooves. Leading off with a thumping "Comfortable Place on the Couch", Garrett shimmied and stammered about the stage as if he was possessed by some kind of demon (which in many ways he was).

A fair volt of his inner electricity clearly rubbed off on the diehard Oils acolytes down front, too, who for the most part were happy to jiggle amiably on the spot. Suddenly, en masse, they adopted the band's trademark salute, right-hand open and raised, "Powderworks" style, while several crowd-surfers rode the mosh-pit tsunami. "Concrete" and the anthem-in-waiting "Cemetery In My Mind" followed, as did the eccentric "Safety Chain Blues" and a high-wired take on "White Skin Black Heart".

They returned with the Brian Wilson-esque "Drop In the Ocean", Rotsey and Moginie shoulder-to-shoulder on keyboards, before shutting down the night with a puzzling "Power & The Passion", stretching this standard into unexplored territory via clubby beats and percussive improvs. Clearly hanging out with Magoo, who co-produced much of Redneck, has left its high-tech mark on these hard-rocking reprobates.

Typically, tonight Midnight Oil had something for everyone. Their highly-politicised raunch and Garrett's topical diatribes offered plenty of brain fodder for the thinkers in a crowd that has noticeably aged (in contrast to the band itself, who are beating back the wrinkles fairly well). And they also offered loads of sheer noise thrills and flashing lights for the less-demanding members of their audience, keen on catharthis and chaos. While Garrett's singing voice has never been the most versatile of instruments, there's still plenty of power and passion in his and the rest of the band's hearts, bless em.

Jeff Apter - Addicted to Noise