polaroids of androids

Wolf and Cub + The Mercy Arms @ Annandale Hotel - 29/09/2006

To be honest, I kinda wasn't in the mood to do as the kids say and 'rock out'. It had been a fairly stressful week at 'the office' and I was kinda a little 'tired' and keen to stay in and watch some bad Friday movies.

But I had bought a ticket to the Wolf and Cub show at the Annandale Hotel the previous day and I would be damned if I was going to pay some dollars for nothing so I dragged myself off the couch.

And glad I did.

The opening act, The Mercy Arms, were fantastic. There is a lot of hype around them at the moment and it's all pretty much deserved. I have wanted to see them ever since I missed them opening for The Strokes a few months back, as they started at about 6pm.

I was surprised the show was 'SOLD OUT'. Not just sold out but sold out early enough that they amended the sign out the front to tell the world the great news. Like any show sold out there was understandably a shitload of people about, all crammed in and, as Wolf and Cub were setting up everyone seemed to shuffle into place and I ended up about two rows from the front. Fuck it, I was always going to be deaf the next day anyways, I might as well have a good view. Well, as it happened, I did and I didn't. It turned out I was right in the 'photographer area', with telescopical lenses all over the shoppe. Rude phucks, pushing in front of big league fans, not me, but the kids who had been there since 8pm for their top positioning.

Anyways, since I was in the spot, I took some bad photos...

The lead singer was I lot more talkative and interactive with the crowd than the previous times I had seen them. I put this down to drunkness, or this being the first time I had seen them as a headline act. Either way, it was pretty cool that he didn't just do what he talked to the crowd in between songs instead of just letting loose on 4 minutes of feedback.

The bass guitarist, unfortunately he was on the other side of the stage and I couldn't get a photo, is a marvel. A long-haired, stoner guy who barely even glances at his instrument or the crowd, instead opting to continually face the ceiling with his eyes close and drift around on the side of the stage. Except, for one fantastic moment when someone from the crowd yelling something at him (hopefully 'show us your pinkens') and he gave them the evil Satan-worshipper look of DEATH. Awes.

And the long weekend has started kiddles. Today the Swans are going to tower over the Eagles and I am going to read Time magazine, eat a baked dinner and watch Nightmare On Elm Street. Bliss.