Locality

Locality:

Difficult second column syndrome. I thought it’d plague me right up until the day before print deadline. That was until the night of Friday March 19. Massive Attack distracted a three quarters full Royal Theatre with global economic comparisons on a dazzling LED display, such as, er, the daily earnings of a Ghanaian social worker and the cost of a British MP’s toilet roll holder ($3 and $40, apparently). But as my astute housemate pointed out, how much were Massive Attack tickets? The moment they finished I cut a cracking pace to McGregor Hall, and boy am I glad I did, for Fun Machine were yet to begin. Tonight was the FUNdraiser for Fun Machine, who’d recently had all the funds from the sale of their debut EP stolen. James Fahy, close friend and Canberra’s own Jeff Buckley, had assembled a sizeable swag of acts to help recover some of their loss, and by the end of the night he was thanking the thief, for without the crime the night would not have been. And what a night it was.

When I arrived at McGregor Hall, the soon to be demolished spiritual heartland of the CMC, bassist Ramsay Nuthall was getting frocked up and keysman Dave Crosby’s cheeks peppered with lipstick freckles. When Fun Machine play it’s not just about a rock show, but the spectacle of it too. From giant bird heads to shimmering capes, body paint to big hair; their onstage antics are a scream. Tonight Ramsay, lead guitarist Chris Endrey and drummer/pianist Bec Taylor were in matching Marilyn Monroe dresses, with black arrows down the bridge of their noses.

Fun Machine have a huge following who know all the words to all their songs. Songs about cougars, songs about café stalkers, songs about toxic shock syndrome. Each one a pure pop gem, a relentless earworm, a cleverly crafted piece of intensely danceable pop rock. It’s not all quirks and cracking wit though; their rollicking power ballad Dreamers is straight out of Springsteen’s songbook with a chorus that could capture a stadium, while Mo, with its stop start rhythms and frenetic guitar freakouts, is funk at its finest. They all sing and they all dance and they all play their frequently swapped instruments like they’ve been at it since they were little ’uns. There’s no frontman syndrome here either. Everyone’s a star.

Tonight people were dancing to Fun Machine like they have to no other local band I’ve seen, and the feeling of McGregor Hall’s wooden boards bouncing under my feet was bliss. The 50-strong crowd was corybantic, singing with full force, flying limbs and wild gesticulation. My hair was satched, my dress was drenched, but I just had to keep on twisting. And then they took a half hour break, only to return with four covers of local bands’ songs! They’d gone away and taught themselves a song by Ah! Pandita, The Trivs, Lady Grey, and Sweet Adeline. For me this was the epitome of Canberra’s music scene; the music made here is loved so much that bands aren’t covering classics, but each other’s songs.

I enjoyed myself more at McGregor Hall than I did at Royal Theatre. Don’t get me wrong, Massive Attack were gobsmackingly good, but I couldn’t put it better than Scott Adams did in his review: “they’ve wrapped themselves in the trappings of arena rock – the massive sound, the retina scorching lightshow, the triumph of bombast over beauty – to such an extent that some of the impact of their music is lost.” Fun Machine are all impact, as is our local scene, and I’m sure all who were there would agree.

Julz’s hot tip: Mr Fibby at the National Folk Festival, playing on Friday April 2 at 5pm, Saturday April 3 at 9.30pm and around fourish on Sunday April 4. They’ll change your life.