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QUT Theatre, Brisbane Powerhouse - Sat Sep 17
“Isn’t it a wonderful evening?” exclaims Dave McCormack, clearly relishing such a momentous occasion. Brisbane Festival’s guests of honour, Custard appear perfectly content with their current ‘landmark events only’ (the festival is celebrating its 15th birthday) status. It does, however, feel a touch incongruous to watch one of the River City’s most reputable rock bands seated down (“like watching a tennis match!”), even if the venue – QUT Theatre, constructed next to the Powerhouse’s venerable brick wall – and the stars above give the show an intimate vibe.
As the cheers subside, the four-piece open with the tried-and-true Goofinder – but apart from two enthusiastic fellows at the back, no one’s moshing like it’s 1996; tonight’s punters are mostly older and respectable-looking. Remarkably, the band sound like they’ve never split up in the first place, getting away with the odd bum note or stompbox miss. Even more striking is the fact that the songs themselves have hardly aged: Pack Yr Suitcases, Alone, Lucky Star and Anatomically Correct all exemplify ‘90s Aussie-rock at its finest. Of course, it would have been nicer to see more people “shimmy to the left, shimmy to the right” to Ringo (“R-I-N-G-O!”), but that perennial ironic-dance number and the damn-catchy Apartment, Hit Song, Melody and Nice Bird are still all met with hearty sing-alongs by assorted Gen X-ers.
Naturally, ‘flannel decade’ flashbacks abound. Drummer Glenn Thompson quips “back in the ‘90s, people used to swap instruments” as he straps on the guitar for the self-written Music Is Crap. Grinning like true winners, the Custard boys come off as laidback, easygoing blokes; “I wonder whether I should play that clean or distorted” the still-curly guitarist Matthew Strong wryly wonders (the correct suggestion is distorted). After cranking out the evergreen Girls Like That (Don’t Go For Guys Like Us), Dave & Co rev up Caboolture Speed Lab and encore with Bedford (from very distant 1991) and Pluto. A wonderful Saturday evening indeed.
DENIS SEMCHENKO
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