Sound Relief

Yesterday was Sound Relief, a benefit concert at the MCG for the Victorian Bushfire Appeal. It rained heavily throughout the day (proving conclusively how ironic irony can be), and we'd assumed that the start would be delayed. We dropped Emily and William at Viewbank, raced to get there and discovered we'd just missing Paul Kelly... Damn. We were just in time to see Augie March (Urbane Scrumping rating: pleasant), which is a bit like discovering you've missed the cheese course but you're in time "for some lovely boiled rice."


Actually, that's a bit unfair. More in the "wouldn't buy the album, but would be happy if someone else played it in the car" category.

A rap contrivance emerged. A short walk to the bar.

Liam Finn is a bearded ball of energy, and I instinctively feel for the man with a boyish face trying to look older by growing a beard... At least mine's got some grey in it. Oh, and I'm beginning to look old as well. But he had a mad, unbridled passion and an infectious energy. The leaps from guitar to drums were wonderfully chaotic, but ultimately it was All About Liam. Which is ok, as long as you can carry it off, and he could. Urbane Srumping rating: I need to sit down - I'm feeling old now.


Crowded House the crowd pleaser. Four songs, and once they'd appeared on stage, no real need to play them. 80,000 people singing "Weather With You" and "Better Be Home Soon" means the band are not much more than conductors and eye candy, but 80,000 folks weren't going to sing without them... Urbane Srumping rating: these songs didn't write themselves.


I've wanted to see Jack Johnson since "Brushfire Fairytales", and he was as good as I'd hoped. I wasn't expecting to be blown off my feet, but I was expecting to check my pockets for a stray joint that I might have tucked away for just such an occasion. I did check. I didn't find one. Bud or muso; the Hawain option is a mellow one. Urbane Srumping rating: "Your turn to roll. I'm too stoned."

Wolfmother were exactly (I mean *exactly*) as anticipated... One part Zep; three parts Black Sabbath; one part pastiche; two part worship and just a dash of Hawkwind and Tull with a T-Rex chaser. Thanks, mine's a pint. And a Jameson's. Urbane Srumping rating: The Chicken Kiev of rock. Lots of flavour and instant appeal, but I was ten years old when this was the height of fashion and it'll always look like faded and jaded to me.


Before we got the business end of the day, Our Kylie popped off her perch to sing "I still call Australia home". Questions should be asked in Parliament, but won't. So it'll have to be me. Urbane Srumping rating: Why? Why the fuck did you sing that song, of all the possible songs in the universe?

It did crystallise the jingoistic theme that made me feel uncomfortable all day. I'm happy to celebrate heroes, but a lot of speeches offered the simple "we're great because we're Australians, therefore being Australian is great" view. Please folks, let's just try and do Good Things and shut the fuck up about it. That's the kind of Australian I aspire to being.


And then we got to the business end of the day. Hunters and Collectors. Urbane Scumping rating: All grunt; all heart. I've seen Mark Seymour twice, both times in a more acoustic mood, but never the Hunners. If they'd ever played at the Seaview Ballroom in St Kilda in the 1980's, I bet it didn't sound this gutsy...


The last time I saw Split Enz was at the Venue in St Kilda in 1984. It was with a girl I went out with, maybe twice, whose name and face I can't remember. I think we were at school together. I do remember (a) I got a voucher entitling me to discount entry, which I remembered too late to use for Motorhead, some months later, and (b) Split Enz wore white suits that had day-glo patterns that only revealed themselves when the UV lights were turned on late in the night.

At the MCG they were just brilliant, and it's easy to see the genesis of Crowded House in Split Enz. Better at chipper pop than Crowded House, perhaps, but fewer arm-waving ballads. Urban Scrumping rating: History never repeats, but just sometimes, it should.

Not to mention, "I see red"...


And then the Oils. Somethings haven't changed. The Prime Minister's favourite Oils song might be "Wedding Cake Island" (Peter Garrett is silent), but they weren't playing for him. I saw them for the first time in 1984 at the South Melbourne Cricket Ground (supported by the Divinyls), and a few years later at the old Olympic swimming pool and both times it was like being flattened by a fast-moving flattening thing. Urban Scrumping rating: More Head Injuries would have been better, but I know I'm in the minority there.



Fantastic, but exhausting. I'm pretty happy about the photos too, considering we were sitting about as far back as we could. All with a 300mm lens and no tripod, too.