Review: Christian Stanger and Nev Pearce
Photography: JD Garrahy

It ain’t easy surviving the festival scene in Australia these days!

With the Australian live music industry seemingly crumbling around it with the cancellation of tours and mammoth events like Groovin’ The Moo and Splendour In The Grass, the sector desperately needed some good news. In step, Pandemonium Rocks. The festival that has stuck it out and survived and despite the state of the place, still managed to put together a solid line-up at one of the best venues the Gold Coast has pulled together over the last few years.

Pulling together legendary acts like Alice Cooper, 70s punk pioneers Blondie and new-wave revivalists The Psychodelic Furs and an eclectic mix of different bands spanning the musical and generational divide is no easy feat, but Pandemonium has taken up the challenge.

After being plagued by band dropouts and venue changes over the past few months, it’s encouraging to see a steadily building crowd of punters getting in early, grabbing a beer, and setting themselves up for an afternoon of solid tunes.

Local lads The Silencio are clearly stoked to be opening the single stage festival.

After their triumphant set at last year’s The World Is A Vampire Festival, the band have returned after a hiatus to play for the punters who have shown up early to rock out.
Playing songs from their recently released sophomore album ‘Foreign Frequencies’, the bands atmospheric alternative tunes such as Crossroads, Same But Different, Apology and the heavy closer Under Lock and Key warm up the crowd perfectly for the big day ahead and leave a lasting impression.

The first time I saw Cosmic Psychos was in 2001 when they were inexplicably supporting Tool on their Lateralus tour stop in Sydney. That was an interesting contrast in musical styles and one not particularly appreciated by those gathered to see the prog-rocker headliners. Today, however, they are in their element: playing loud, debaucherous punk tunes bathed in the Gold Coast sun. It’s a short, 35 minute set but the trio jam a litany of greatest hits.

‘Nice Day To Go To The Pub’, ‘Fuckwit City’ and ‘Dead In A Ditch’ follow one after the other but ‘Lost Cause’ makes the set. It’s an absolute belter with bonus tribal drums, trademark guitar solos and a seductive dance from guitarist John ‘Mad Macka’ McKeering who proceeds to take off his shirt at the climax of set closer ‘David Lee Roth’. 40 years on and these guys still bring the goods.

Closing in on 20 years since its release, the Zepellin-esque shades of ‘Woman’ still pack a punch and take you right back to the 70s – which, with this lineup, is where you want to be. At this point, anyone on stage can likely not see a thing as they squint into the afternoon sun and Wolfmother’s Andrew Stockdale is copping the worst of it, but he charges on, trademark hair flying around the stage.

The obvious closer of the whirlwind set was always going to be ‘Joker and the Thief’ and Wolfmother are not ones to disappoint, as the first few nights of that iconic high-on-the-neck riff and thumping drums join in, fists fly into the sky from the crowd up front and do not relent until the band’s departure five minutes later.

Wheatus always seemed a little out of place on this bill. Pop-rock is not punk, or new wave, or classic rock but the band get the crowd onside early with a surprisingly accurate cover of ‘Rock ‘n’ Roll Damnation’ followed by a short, sharp list of catchy tunes. Brendan B. Brown exudes charm and there is not much to dislike about him or his band as the set marches on to the inevitable conclusion which comes after he offers a heartfelt thank you as Australia was apparently the first market that made the song massive.

Teenage Dirtbag pre-empts thousands of phones being held up and the communal falsetto being tested for the first time in years. Although Wheatus prove that they are much more than the super-hit for which they are known, that song will never leave its place on their setlists and that’s a guarantee.

The Psychedelic Furs emerge all looking like they just walked out of the same hair salon and rip into the punk-tinged ‘Mr Jones’. The overall sound from the desk is improved for the band as the bass is turned way up and the guitars are given more grit which provides these synth-laden tracks with new wall-of-sound power.

Looking like Bricktop from Snatch and sounding like if Johnny Rotten explored his vocal range, Richard Butler is in fine form tonight as the band move through their list of classics from the new wave era with ‘Love My Way’, ‘Pretty In Pink’ and ‘Heartbreak Beat’ each get feet tapping and the crowd up front dancing. Up to this point, as the sunset and night gathers in, this is the most impressive performance of the so far, but it’s not over by a long shot.

Cramming all of this onto a single stage was supposed to mean a lengthy wait for our headliners (while the massive crowd definitely means a VERY lengthy wait for the portaloos), but Blondie surprise us all as their video intro starts a full 25 minutes ahead of their 7pmscheduled set.

Before she uttered a word – no, before she even came out on stage decked out in a canary yellow suit, Debbie Harry had already stolen the show.

Backed by the only original member, Clem Burke on drums and, original Sex Pistol bassist Glen Matlock and virtuoso guitarist, Tommy Kessler, Harry isn’t doing acrobatics on stage, but she is still absolutely riveting with a commanding stage presence that demands all eyes on her.

Although she hesitates to attempt the higher register stuff early on, by the time Rapture rolls around, our 78-year-old frontwoman is warmed up and ready to fire as she delivers the rap sounding as badass as she did nearly 50 years ago.

Twin guitar solos on Atomic were incendiary, goose-bumpy brilliance and, on ‘Call Me’, keyboardist, Matt Katz-Bohen delivers the finest keytar solo the Parklands is ever likely to see. If hit cover, ‘The Tide Is High’ is received positively by the crowd, the reception for ‘Heart of Glass’ is rapturous, as several thousand punters (possibly not in their right minds after 6 hours in the sun), attempt those impossible high notes.

Executioners in plague masks march across the stage ringing bells in front of the curtain draped across the stage. Guitars ring out, the curtain falls revealing the intricate stage set up with another curtain with the newspaper headline ‘Alice Cooper banned in Australia’ scrawled across it. “Welcome to the show,” the man of the hour announces after cutting through the curtain with his trademark sword.

From there on, the King of ghoulish theatrics delivers a masterclass in stagecraft. ‘No More Mr Guy’ and ‘I’m Eighteen’ follow and show us that his voice has lost zero power in his 76 years and he sounds stronger than ever.

There is never a dull moment as he and his prodigious band deliver set piece after set piece. Donning a biker jacket for ‘Under My Wheels’, stabbing a pushy photographer during ‘Hey Stoopid’, bringing on his pet snake for ‘Snake Bite’, and welcoming a giant Frankenstein monster for ‘Feed My Frankenstein’. Add in the odd confetti cannon, essential guillotine usage, an epic performance of hit ‘Poison’, and assorted explosions, on top of choreographing his band into place to deliver truly memorable gang vocals and, of course, photo opportunities, this is some kind of spectacle!

Although hearing tracks like ‘Department of Youth’ and closer,’ School’s Out’ being sung by an elder statesman may seem a little ironic, you never question it in the moment. It’s all theatre and Alice Cooper is the master, leaving us with this wish for the future: “May all of your nightmares be horrendous!”

That’s a lot to fit into one day and one (long) review. All I can say at this point is “Long live Pandemonium!” While other festivals fall by the wayside, let’s keep this one alive!