The Palace Theatre
True to form much of the crowd in the Palace is
dressed in black, part of a couple and over 30. This is the audience willing to
pay $90 a ticket to let their arms and mouths do the appreciating, and while at
some shows it can mean a lack of energy, tonight it’s no bad thing.
Six-piece, psych combo The Sand Pebbles do chugging rock better than most and the slowly
gathering crowd clearly like what they’ve got. Their three guitars are put to
use cranking out sprawling metronomic propulsions replete with vocal harmonies,
tight drumming and crunchy bass. Occasionally busting out furious psych rock on
songs like Wild Season, that they
don’t lose the textures and space that make slower tracks like The Weight of the World so great is testament to the careful thought
they put into these songs, something lacking from a lot of musicians who dabble
in psych rock.
Before a row of Marshall amps, a drum skin sporting
the Screamadelica cover and a selection of large, blinding white lights comes
Bobby. Sure, there is a fantastic backing band who resemble the last five
people found at 9AM at Pony (and feature longtime members Andrew Innes, Martin
Duffy and Mani-replacement Simone Butler on bass), but it’s the rake thin Bobby
Gillespie we’re here to see. And for one man beating a black tambourine,
wearing a cowboy shirt and what looks like XS-waist black jeans, he gives us a
lot to look at. Smiling widely Gillespie leads us through 2012, past a deafeningly adoring crowd response to the intro of Swastika Eyes and into the euphoria of Movin’ On Up. It’s a perfectly chosen
setlist. The muscle put into the older, more danceable songs pull them up to
date and lets them sit comfortably beside the more intense material off Vanishing Point and Xterminator. The sly lope of Slip
Inside This House eases into the (literally) blinding seizure-suggesting
lightshow accompanying the intense Accelerator,
a Rowland S. Howard-dedicated Damaged
and first of two new songs Relativity.
‘This next one is much more accessible’ mumbles Gillespie in a rare moment of
intelligible banter before introducing the most radio-friendly song he’s
written in decades It’s Alright, It’s OK.
Seemingly immune from the aging process, or vagaries
of fashion trends Gillespie never stops moving, both musically and literally.
It’s hard to take your eyes off him. As at home fronting a psych-house group,
that the group sometimes assume, their transformation into a white hot southern
rock combo for the encore still leaves them unable to sound like anyone else.
Set highlight Shoot Speed passes like
an out-of-control freight train and jars beautifully when up against the gospel
sing-along of Come Together and
set-closer Country Girl.
Returning to the stage for I’m Losing More Than I’ll
Ever Have/Loaded it’s like they can’t lose. Guitarist Barrie Cadogan (he of
Little Barrie fame) seems like a smaller version of Gillespie, and the two
frequently engage in some shoulder bumping and back-slapping in a way that is
reminiscent of The Faces or Mick and Keef’s dynamic. Finishing with their most
rock-ready hits, Jailbird and Rocks, the crowd shout themselves hoarse as the music ends and the stage
is overtaken by a howling wall of feedback, looped percussion and those blinding
lights. Bobby standing mid-stage batting the air, entranced by the sound,
ending one of the gigs of the year in a state of sonic overload.
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