There is a bucket list for rock ’n’ roll. When I compare notes I realise I have been in some parallel musical bucketverse.
I have vomited and passed out drunk and missed seeing a Simple Minds gig. I have pierced both my ears on the barrier at a Scientists gig. I have balanced on two cans of red stripe just to see the Big Audio Dynamite stage. And I’m proud to say I’ve urinated into my jeans/boots at the front of the Pogues /Clash concert at the Brixton Academy just so I didn’t loose my spot. But I’ve never spent hours waiting, lined up outside a venue just to get front row.
Geese’s first Australian headlining show at the Metro provided the incentive to do just that. I can’t say the six hours spent in a laneway outside the Metro in the hot Sydney sun breezed by. After an hour the initial Geese camaraderie gave way to despondency as the beating sun drove us into urine infused doorways.
After that I sat on a large garbage bin for an hour to escape the smell. Eventually the monotony was broken by a 100 pigeons descending on the lane. WTF! From the mass of birds emerged one of Sydney’s pigeon men. Laughing and sewing seeds everywhere.
Someone hands out a small GeeseZine. Another a self printed sticker of the Geese tour. Vans start entering the lane, and gear is unloaded. Support act Radio Free Alice saunter up and down. Someone carries their magic carpet. A couple of roadies walk by and return with fried chicken. A side exit door opens slightly and muffled sound checks can be heard inside.
Only two hours to go!
More punters begin joining the line. I focus on the variety of band T-shirts. Geese T-shirts feature heavily but not exclusively.
A despairing few parade up and down in search for spare tickets .
Fragments of musical conversations can be overheard up and down the laneway. A vaguely familiar weathered figure walks into the lane. Pigeons fly from everywhere to greet him. Pigeon Man again.
As the last 30 minutes to the doors-opening time approach, a garbage truck begins reversing down the tight laneway. Security finally appear and force the now long line of people that stretches the length of the lane against one wall.
Then the doors open and we are in, rushing to the barrier.
By the time Geese come on stage the Metro is jam-packed and sweltering. Almost ignoring the massive welcome they receive, Geese tune up then get straight into Husbands. Minimal fuss from the band but maximum response from the audience.
The crowd are going mental. Getting Killed and Islands Of Men are stop-start songs with crazy rhythm changes that should drive your brain to Schizophrenia. However the songs somehow rewire the brain to energy and beauty. The stage looks chaotic, but it’s a syncopated chaos. It’s easy to focus on lead singer Cameron Winter with his powerful stage and vocal presence. A voice that delivers lyrics like an unhinged baritone. A voice that samples elements of rock ’n roll voices past and present. You can hear anyone from Jim Morrison or Tim Buckley to Julian Casablancas or Paul Banks and many in between. But Winter’s voice is on its own. Instantly recognisable by its tonal diversity.
The band members both individually and collectively are phenomenal too. Emily Green, is guitar magic and could play a baseball bat. On opener Husbands, Green does just that on their ‘56 Silvertone. It’s a revelation. Max Bassin on drums and Dom DiGesu on bass bleed like blood brothers of rhythm. They have swag. Sam Revaz moves between keyboard and keytar. He adds another dimension only hinted at on the records. On 2122 and I See Myself with Revaz’s keytar upfront there is a wall of guitars. 100 Horses is almost too good to be true. Cowboy Nudes and Domoto from previous album3D Country satisfy the staunch fans from way back in ‘23. Geese just play and play, with minimal banter or delays . Their music has a lot to say. It’s a concert you never want to end. But end it does on barnstormer Taxes before returning for encore Trinidad which turns the dance floor to liquid mayhem.
Sweat and people fly.
Five bouncers move in like Anatolian shepherd dogs guarding their geese. The floor is heaving.
I feel the barrier move.
The song finishes like the crescendo of an approaching beast.
Tonight at the Metro a gaggle of geese took off as a skein and flew high towards the sun. May their wings never melt.
In rock ’n’ roll’s parallel bucketverse, see Geese before you die.
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