Faker

After a hubbub trying to get in (apparently I wasn’t on the door list...but a Beat reviewer was…ooh, convenient!) the Corner filled up slowly. Unfortunately, not before E.L.F took to the side stage. His continuous sighing and reveling in the awkward ambience of a barely filled pub made the set uncomfortable. To be frank, E.L.F didn’t seem like the right choice of support for a Faker gig at the Corner. His tracks were dance-worthy and his mash-ups were interesting and funky, but I couldn’t help but think he might have more success at a club or dance-oriented bar.

Frenetic punks Children Collide were up next; the punter in front of me had assured me the set would be full of blistering awesomeness. I was somewhat let down on this. They were okay, your average screaming + guitar shredding + frantic drums combo I’d seen far too often in my travels. But once again, CC will appeal to many.

Ah, the long wait was worth it. Various annoying audience members and the long wait for the band was worth it: Faker. The first thing I realize is Nathan Hudson’s live energy is exactly how lore would describe: he is a monster in the best possible way. He rips up the stage like a dog with a newspaper, and is invigorating to watch. The stage seems too small for the singer, even with the drums pushed to the very rear of the stage and guitarist Stefan and bassist Nic playing at the very edges. The band treats us to a first listen of tracks from the latest album, Be The Twilight, favourites being Killer on the Loose and Lazybones. I bet JB HiFi was awash with Faker fans the next day, clambering to get the brilliant release.

Luckily, they did not shy away from the songs we love them for: massive hit Love for Sale saw Nathan take the role of guitarist, causing many women to lose their minds with ecstasy (one girl behind me yelled out “I love you, Nathan!” after every song, and eventually became so aggravated at being ignored by the front man, cried out “Just fucking say it back!”). Latest single This Heart Attack went off like a rocket; radio support has smiled on the band. Every punter knew the words.

Only one criticism, though it has nothing to do with the band. During Faker-opus Hurricane, those of us in the front row were pulverized, to say the least. Drunken louts bashed into us with such attitude I was wondering what I did to these people to make them hate me so. I edged out my elbows to keep them at bay, but beer must have dullened their senses because they persevered. I eventually retreated to the bar with what little feet I had left.

That disturbance aside, you cannot deny Faker are one of the premium Australian acts at the minute. Their huge energy and oddly dark pop-rock tunes are reshaping the face of the music scene: Viva la Faker!

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