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Dickstock: 14/11/2009.
by Nick the Bookman
The marathon continues...I'm fresh from two days of Clockenflap and rested enough to grapple with the endearing tradition that is Dickstock. This year is Dickstock 15. Fair maths, seeing as the gig began in 1994. But, given the peculiarities of the Lamma SpaceTime Continuum, some of the previous events haven't taken place on Lamma. Or anywhere that I've found. It seems to be a case of each year, add one. I think there have been nine in total(?) over the past 15 years. So, in Lamma maths, nine equals fifteen (or in Lamma words anyway). Fascinating sidebar, Nick. Are you writing for payment by the word? Cut to the chase....
I've arrived at Dickstock about 1900 hours. The opening act is soundchecking. Clarity and volume are just right. Big thanks to Rob Porter of Yellow Frog for his excellent production skills. He even manages a spot of laptop DJ work in between the acts. I'm jumping ahead here. Call it Lamma time shifts again. Or who was the famous film director who said all films must have a beginning, middle and end, but not necessarily in that order? Something that QT has taken to heart. Anyway, I'm interrupted in these musings by a fine version of "Sweet Child Of Mine" A sort of mellow Americana version that would not be disgraced on a Guns N (Fucking) Roses tribute CD. The band is Cicadas. Lamma's latest supermorphed group. Marcus (the photographer) on guitar, mandolin, harmonica and vocals. Kieran, the co-writer with Marcus, on guitar and vocals. Gareth, who's going to double dip tonight with The Curs, on bass. Flying high on drums is Malte who joined the band last year.
The crowd is increasing. Lots of the usual suspects, ranging from infancy to dotage. The conversation buzz is heating up. This could be one of the best Dickstock's yet. The man himself is standing near the bar (natch) with good friend Ted. Chatting with John Santa and Louise. Grahame is here with ever-present camera. Tracey Duggan is selling the magnificent Tee-shirts at my right. They're a bargain at $60 each. Hurry, hurry, get 'em now. There are only 100 up for grabs. Megan and I score a coup, snaffling the only two camouflage (sort of) tee shirts. Paul from Pak Kok offers me $100 for it, and doubles the offer about an hour later. To no avail. I wear the shirt for a moment to get an obligatory snap and put it away. Meanwhile, Geng and the gals are handling snacks and drinks. Paul's saved space on the sofa to stash my bag and Grahame's gear. Cicadas are chirping.
Most of the songs are originals. Marcus, who tells me he's inspired by The Decemberists and Bobby Z. on harmonica, handles the Americana side of things. Kieran brings a punk attitude. Gareth distills the essence of The Curs while Malto is a sort of laid back Keith Moon. There's a child's lullaby of sorts which Markus sings to his kids. Song nine has a catchy chorus of "...down to the place I've been going to". A thumping beat at medium fast tempo. Reminds me of some early Dylan crossed with hints of The Faces' exuberance. Other songs recall boozy blues while the mandolin makes me think of 60's acidworld folksters Kaleidoscope. Unfortunately, there's not enough time for the soundcheck cover. It's a great start to the night and a pleasure to see and hear more Lammaniacs taking up the musical cudgels. Both Dick and The Reverend Hank are fulsome in their praise of the band and of Rob's polished production. A great outdoor debut.
I'm back at the back watching the shirt sales and resting while Transnoodle set up and start. They do their usual peppy ska/reggae set. Matt's on the Roland Ax-Synth. A clone of Koya is on bass. I'm teasing of course, but at last count I knew he was a member of nine other bands. Five of which are probably doing a gig somewhere in HK tonight. Anyway, this clone is indistinguishable from the Real Master. Orlando brings the oompahpah factor to the party with his trusty trombone. Fresh from his brief guest spot with Poubelle International at Clockenflap. The ever reliable Magnus keeps the beats firm and rocking on drums. More Jaki Leibiwitz from Can than Keith Moon, but "the beat goes on". No Sarah on sax. No Barnaby on congas. No Josh on shared vocals though. Perhaps they'll return for Lamma Fun Day. All the usual favourites are played (I think). The eponymous "Transnoodle" tune, and "I Bury The Harbour"(?) stand out. Glad to see you saved some energy after your gig with Clive Chin before Clockenflap. The crowd seems to enjoy it all. No obvious signs of drunken drooling delerium yet. But the night is young and The Curs have only just arrived.
Halfway through the night. No police have arrived. Hopefully, Dick's pleas to the neighbours to call them (NOT) as everything will be done and dusted by 0030 seems to be working. Of course, it's our reasonable Lamma Police Force who will respond. They do a damn good job of keeping the peace without going overboard like their arrogant, incompetent Marine brethren. Nuff Said! This is a fun night. Some nutters in straw hats have invaded the stage. Aah, it's the one and only, yet ever mutating, Yung Shue Wan Curs.
This madcap motley cru are a septet tonight. Co-leaders,Slinky John Hotone and The Reverend Hank are joined by the peripatetic Frazier, who's flown in specially for his second gig in as many months. Roy Stark returns for a recurring cameo on dobro. Davey's back on the fiddle and Gareth and Magnus do double duty on bass and drums respectively. Always a pleasure to hear The Curs howling at the moon and dribbling beer. Quick quote from Kelly which nails the moment. "Same songs. Different babies" I couldn't have written it better myself. The Curs start with "Folsom Prison Blues", "Fixing-To-Die Rag" and the bluesy-jazz (or juicy blahs) of "Rootie Tootie". Slinky John welcomes everyone to "Knobworth". There's some fine slide dobro picking and plucking from the mighty Roy Stark. Especially on "Ghost Riders In The Sky". Frazier, Harry and John form a fine triple acoustic axe-attack. Gareth and Magnus are the stainless steel drum and bass backbone. And Davey soars in his mesmerising "Thick Mick" style. Enough to get Sarah up and high-step-kicking in front of the stage. There's the "queers, steers and fears" cowpoke song (where's Terry?) and a big finale of "I Saw the Light" and "Plastic Jesus". Now, I'm an atheist. Except when I'm winding people up by supporting pantheistic paganism. Better outdoor, naked barbecues and piss-ups for a start . I feel it's impossible to have a rational discussion about religion. Full Stop. But, I'm singing along with the Holy Roller Big Tent Rock Hysteria vibe. For a little while "I'm A Believer" Monkee.
Rob has done a great job on the sound. Have I mentioned that yet? Crystal clear up front. Bit muffled by the house due to some 500 (?) people blocking the sound. But it's not echoing all around the valley. This is not a dis of Parksy, who's in front of the stage with an impressive array of elixirs and alcoholic potions. I think he's glad to have the night off. Red Star Rising are fine-tuning. Getting ready to unleash the slavering blues-rock beast which slays the soon-to-be-deaf with a centidecible roar. (that might be a neologism!). As always, Stevie Cray Vaughn on guitars and vocals. Drummer Neil laying down the power backbeat. And new bassist Federico who slaps out the riddims in insouciant style. The top tunes include the space operatic superbummer of a day "When Worlds Collide" The vicious psychopathy of "Red Claw" with hints of Steppenwolf's "The Pusher" interwoven through the song. And of course my favourite. "Shopping Malls" I've yet to hear the 20+ minute spacey-delic version with "the FX pedals mashed to buggery" on the backwards guitar solo. But, that's always something to look forward to. Steve's voice sounds a bit shot and the song ends abruptly. Then the middle break starts. A dreamy solo while he introduces the band. No call-and-response drums and bass interplay this time. Maybe Federico needs a bit more time to integrate and soar. But he is a worthy successor to Alex. Anyway, sorry I doubted you Steve. I think the best version I've heard was your performance in The Cavern with Makha on percussion and John on extra guitar. This one, not there yet, but I will go/am going/went home contented. Final track is the short version of "Walking With The Devil" A fine rollicking, choogly beat that left everyone wanting more. The Number One Power Trio of the night. Welcome To The Big Time, Federico!
And last but not least, it's The Spicy Boys! Oh no, it's not! OK, it's the renamed Spicy Boys. The early glam-pouf name days are history. Tonight, they're motoring along under the new monicker of The Black Mariahs. Apparently, they were a bit miffed about my last Dickstock review of them. I think they thought I slagged them off a little bit. Which I don't think I did. I knew every song and they were the only band to remain mercifully free from the baleful ravages of the New Millennium. Song wise, I mean. Everyone always get praised for at least having the big brass balls to get up on stage and do the fucking biz. One small error. I've forgotten the name of their awesome drummer. Dan, help L-G out with this vital tidbit of info. Thanks in advance from Nick. The rest of the band are Dan in trippy spandex tights and vocals. Dennis in Long Black Gunslinger's Coat and bass. Gabriel on what sounds like three lead guitars at once. And the closest thing to Ginger Baker on power drums/
Anyway, back to Black Mariah. They were Good. Better than Good. Gooder than Best, even. Again, no 21st Century explorations. Except for one original song. Opening with a lethal version of "Psycho Killer" which warms everyone up. The crowd is standing in a close semi-circle around the stage and blocking the gateway. Apparently, the Lamma police have arrived. Dick's dealt with it. Promised on his testicles that the show will be over by 0030. They leave. The second song is "Should I Stay Or Should I Go?". Prompting Dan to say it's "the wrong song for so early in the set. Anyway, we're not going" It's handled competently and segues (sort of) into a lengthy intro for Song Three. Starts out like John Cippolina and Gary Duncan trading lead licks in primetime Quicksilver Messenger Service. Mutates wonderfully into "Jumping Jack Flash". Complete with pissed audience participation. Another song sees Dan sight-singing the lyrics to "Never Met A Girl Like You Before". Probably not the masterwork by The Misunderstood - the first band that the late John Peel ever managed. But a fine version, nonetheless. There's a "Happy Birthday, Dina" shout out. She's "21 again. Or possibly, 18".
Finest track of the night for me is Iggy Pop's "The Passenger". Thanks to Steve for reminding me of the title. It's superb. Gabriel not only plays the melody without faltering, but adds his own little flourishes of unhinged guitar over the top. Did he grow another set of arms or something?
A barn-storming slow version of "White Room" moves suavely into "Sweet Jane' with some extra babble and confusion. "Gloria" is seduced, then humped into submission. Everyone wants more. The original song starts a bit like "The Reaper, by BOC. Has a catchy chorus of "It's over, start anew. Forever, just passing through". Finally, a second helping of Lou Reed with "Waiting For My Man". Fantastic mini drum solo to end it. Dan finishes with "Thanks to Rob for making everyone sound so good. Thanks to Dick for being Dick. Dina for being 74. Goodnight". Rob winds everything down. It's 0015. Everyone is happy. General consensus is this is The Best Dickstock Yet. A pleasure to be part of it. Hope you enjoyed this memory jog. Coming up is Lamma Fun Day. What lunacy awaits us all. See you there.
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Last edited by Lamma-Gung on Sat Jul 03, 2010 9:47 am, edited 1 time in total.
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