Palace of Fire
Boogie Rock Festival, Tallarook VIC
Saturday 11th April, 2009
Hunter S. Thompson would be proud of Boogie Rock. The story goes, apparently, that "Bruzzy", the owner of this sprawling patch of land near Tallarook - an hour out of Melbourne on the Hume Highway - once stayed in a bona fide Swiss chalet. He liked the thing so much he decided to build one for himself.
The results of this labor makes for an astonishing sight, particularly when arriving in the dark late on a Saturday night. At the edge of a homemade football oval, large gothic gates usher one under and into a moodily lit crease of land nestled in the crook of a small valley. Past a giant inflatable dome that houses the single stage, skewed rows of tables laid out as if for a wedding, and a full, running fountain, we find ourselves in a gravel courtyard filled with chairs. One one side of the courtyard is some sort of farming shed, and the other is a glowing, heaving three-storied wooden chalet pulsing with flashing lights, gyrating bodies covering its balconies, in front of which a looming quiver of gum trees towers above. Contained within this vestige of ill-repute are two bars, a stage, a table-tennis table and the kind of long rowed medieval benches that serve equally as vantage points to the burlesque show currently jiggling about, and podiums on which to dance. It's part Saloon bar, part debauched hideout and part cult-headquarters. That's to say, nirvana for the more bacchanalian members of this industry's salt and pepper set. Rock heaven.
By the time Palace of Fire arrive on stage after 11.30pm, it's a weird scene. The majority of those in attendance are either pickled vessels of indulgence or shivering in the crisp country air. Many of the latter have retreated to the warm chalet. To think that two thirds of this band were not long ago playing to seething crowds of 40,000+ around the world, and are now about to make their Melbourne debut at a shrinking, chilly gathering that amounts to a glorified bucks party, gives a surreal air to proceedings. More so, I should say.
For those yet to see Palace of Fire, it's true that comparing the members previous bands is a good starting point. In one camp we have the rhythm section from Wolfmother - a.k.a Chris Ross and Myles Heskett - a dexterous, muscular and formidable pair in their own right. In the other camp is Matt Blackman, a more well known name in underground indie circles than a Wolfmother forum member would care to know. Albums from Purplene, Ukiyo-E, Tucker Bs, and Firekites all have his name in their liner notes, not least the band he currently fronts Charge Group. Indeed, his quest to unearth melody from seemingly atonal guitar excursions, odd tunings and strange arrangements mark all those bands pleasingly. And it's this incursion to the more "down the line" thump of the Wolfmother members that makes this unit most fascinating currently, and promising for the future.
(Such a left-wing recruitment by Ross and Heskett also demonstrates their keenness for moving beyond their old group. As well as maybe one of the reasons why they left it? Blackman has his own guitar histrionics sure, but it's way more about exploration than phallic thrusting. And say what you will about Wolfmothers tunes but anyone who heard the band through a decent PA can vouch for Ross and Heskett's dexterity, craft and pure, physical wallop. Is there such a thing as a power duo?)
Tonight is the band's second ever gig, their first being a
warm up show at the Hopetoun Hotel in Sydney the previous Monday. Despite playing pretty much all the songs they've got, the trio's infant catalogue is assured, complex and at times, moving. Though keyboards are a feature - all three members play one at same point or
another - this is heavy music. It's hard to hear Blackmans' lyrics tonight but the snatches caught seem more existential and mythological than the more localised, intimate evocations in his previous work. Perhaps it's an effort to step up to the roaring beast that plays around him now? Hard to tell. The band creates a winding wall of sound; there's snapshots of both Wolfmother and Purplene/Charge Group - of course - but there's also other touchstones; Mogwai, Fugazi, something Celtic - maybe - and even a hint of something more precise. Battles. Or someone. It's head and guts music as opposed to the hip-shaking swing of like, 'Woman'.
Over the course of their confident hour long set, glassy-eyed revellers dribble out of the chalet and the mountains around us for a look. Everyone stays. They're going to be good these guys.