Children Collide
Annandale Hotel, 21 November
By Angus Fontaine
Children Collide had a date with destiny on Friday night and the power trio from the NSW Central Coast knew it. Anticipation for a landmark gig was high among a packed mob of motley Sydney punters. Hell, even the Annandale's carpet seemed stickier.
A confederacy of three, Children Collide seem built for speed, power and harmonising. This was to be their biggest Sydney gig since forming in Melbourne three years back and mashing and re-recording their EPs We Three Brave and True (2005) and Glass Mountain Liars (2006) as The Big Now, the LP that currently has critics in conniptions.
And right from the get-go they had the crowd purring - literally. 'Chosen Armies' is one of those strange, frenetic little songs that compels a crowd to involuntary tongue thrumming in the chorus. Like whistling, purring in rock is an undernourished art form. Offset by a thunderous riff and lyrics about searching for frozen ground, these purrs shook the rafters. Somewhere in heaven, Roy Orbison - who coined the kitten roll in the 60s - winked from behind his shades.
But that's all these boys owe The Big O. The blitzkrieg that followed better resembled a sonic orgy attended by The Strokes, Nirvana, The Police, Wolfmother and The Vines. Lead singer Johnny Mackay had his husky growl down pat and he spat it and slurred it to potent effect, never descending to a moan, nor ascending to a scream. That he reined his raw power and spiced it with some witty back-and-forth banter with the throng told us he's a frontman with a gilded larynx and plenty more up his sleeve.
If Johnny had the wheel, his bass-pummelling bandmate Heath Crawley held the eye. No shoe-gazing with this bloke, no artful hair-flicking or tremulous knee-kinking at the bridge. Heath has the music in him and, like those great spasming soul men Joe Cocker, Peter Garrett and Anthony, he lets it out anyway it wants. Head back, eyes twitching, torso shaking with the tsunami of sound the band unleashes, he's sensational. And rockabilly Ryan Caesar on drums bangs his gong and urges him ever onward.
The songs came fast and atmospheric and there was plenty of gear-shifting as the band hooned through the rip-roaring album opener 'Across the Earth', fizzing crowd favourite 'We Are Amphibious', elastic thrasher 'Social Currency', cheeky beast 'Cannibal' and the full moon fever anthems 'Farewell Rocketship' and 'Skeleton Dance'. Mackay went elegantly apeshit in a Bleach B-side blow-out towards the end but mostly the band were tight, loud, and sharp as rats with gold teeth, the sound toe-tapping yet head-banging.
The set was short and heavy and several catchy little cannons were left in the van as the band bizarrely opted out of an encore. It denied fans the scorching delights of 'Marie Marie' and the fab seven-minute slab of rawk they afforded Stevie Wright's immortal 'Black Eyed Bruiser' on the Easybeats tribute album, Easyfever, but no one asked for a refund. The future of Oz rock had been glimpsed and all agreed it looked sweet indeed.
Photos: Daniel Boud
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