Many moons ago, when I were a lad, I saw AC/DC playing at
Sheffield Polytechnic, with Bon Scott.
Standing next to me in the audience that night was some guy togged out
in the full Angus costume, schoolboy shorts and cap, the lot. As their set got going he made repeated calls
for “MORE VOL-YOOM”. A few weeks later
at a Scorpions gig at Sheffield City Hall, I saw the same guy crawling along
the front of the stage in front of the PA stacks, while the support band was playing.
That lad would have been in his element watching
Airbourne. In the enclosed confines of
the Liquid Rooms, with Marshall stacks filling the stage, they make a racket
akin to being in the middle of the D-Day landings. The rhythm section delivers a physical punch
to the gut that makes you feel the need for a bulletproof vest. And in the midst of all that, Airbourne are
huge, huge fun.
Joel O'Keeffe has "a bit of a CHINWAG" with the audience |
It’s very easy to describe Airbourne as AC/DC juniors. The younger Aussies have the same way with a
steamhammer guitar riff, a thunderous rhythm section, and screeching
vocals. But they also inject a
Motorhead-like frenzy into the mix, and a post-grunge sensibility that makes
them more contemporary than their inspirations.
At the epicentre of this storm is lead guitarist and
vocalist Joel O’Keeffe. If Bon Scott
came across like a casually lascivious, leering black sheep of an uncle, then
O’Keeffe seems like a wild-eyed, manic cousin cut from the same cloth. Wiry and bare-chested, his between songs
patter features regular squawked encouragement to “get pissed on a Friday
night, EDINBURGH”. And this audience, no
shower of curious casuals, is well up for both that challenge and Airbourne’s
set. To say the joint starts jumping is
putting it mildly - down the front there is clearly what I believe the young people
call a mosh pit going on.
There’s some simple but effective choreographed guitar
bashing, and Justin Street on bass and David Roads on rhythm guitar make
frequent sprinted excursions from one side of the stage to the other, while Street
demonstrates degree-standard headbanging to further enliven proceedings.
Now, you might be asking about the music. Well hell, what do you think? Songs like ‘Girls In Black’, ‘No Way But The
Hard Way’ and ‘Runnin’ Wild’ feature riffs as tight as a cork in a champagne
bottle, while O’Keeffe effortlessly cranks out screaming solos in between
working the crowd. It's rock’n’roll
compressed to its core, a hurtling rollercoaster fuelled by adrenaline and
beer.
But this is really all about the live experience, and the
connection between the band and the crowd.
O’Keeffe does the Angus tour around the crowd solo thing, on a roadie’s
shoulders. He chucks cans of frothing
beer to audience members, and – his party piece – smacks them off his head till
they explode. He encourages chants of “here
we, here we, here we fucking go” – though they don’t need much encouragement,
having got there first anyway. Even his
drummer brother Ryan gets in on the showmanship, kicking off the encores by
hand-cranking an air raid siren.
Airbourne have been off my radar for a few years, since I
saw them play the late, lamented Caley Picture House in Edinburgh back in 2010. But clearly they continue to be an
electrifying live force, with a committed fan base. And they don’t half stand up for the
liberating power of rock’n’roll.
No comments:
Post a Comment