The Vasco Era

I’d been looking forward to the Vascos for almost a month. I’d been convincing everyone I knew to go. I’d been dreaming of Sids voice. I’d even set up a blind date for the night. It was also a friends last day at work so it was sure to be a big one. Drinking straight after work was a great idea until I had to move my car. I stopped in at the Nash for a bit of alone time as the tension at the after-work-do was unbelievable. There had been a sacking the day before and past events have made me very uneasy around that group of people.

The lads were playing a hometown gig (Geelong to Apollo Bay, close enough) and it was packed. A packed gig is the perfect place for a blind date. Call me superficial, but when a weedy looking Peter Sellers complete with porno mo showed up in the nominated piece of clothing to identify him, my reaction was to hide. Not normally something one can achieve in such a small venue as the Barwon Club, but thanks to the Vasco Era’s overwhelming popularity I was able to.

Little Red opened proceedings, and after all the hype I’d heard I wasn’t too impressed. The people I was with were in a hating mood and the words “spew-worthy” and “Beatles were 50 years ago” were uttered. Personally I thought they were ok. A little too sunshine for such a scungy pub, but the straightforward song structure and innocence to the sound made me feel like I was in a Frankie Valley beach flick, and that’s always fun.

Whiskey Go Gos were up next. The Kings of Leon beta series. I’ve never been a huge fan of these guys for a couple of reasons. Firstly, none of their songs sound totally original. You’re forever going “that riff was from Susie Q/Dallas Crane/whoever”. Which in itself isn’t so bad, all bands do it. Secondly, the costumes are a bit too wankery. Some bands manage to pull of rock n roll cool with their special stage outfits, others just look a bit odd. Finally, and most of all, that stupid tambourine guy. Really. His entire role seems to be to play off beat tambourine, occasional maracas that get drowned out, and off key back up woos. The dancing is kinda entertaining, but he’s just superfluous. It’s almost like someone’s mum said that they had to include him in the band, and the guys reluctantly let him hang around.

The Vasco Era were to be my saviour. After an earlier chat with Ted I still hadn’t managed to spot Bonnie, but I sent her some big “thankyou” vibes and I’m pretty sure she got them. On stage Sid announced that he was unwell, and after his little spew-cough everyone believed him. I missed the brilliance of the Elvis opening, but this show was all about the new album (Oh we do like to live beside the seaside), so a new beginning was to be expected. The boys were tight, and despite being unwell Sid managed to perform at 80% or so vocally and the energy from Ted and Fitzy was high voltage as usual. I’m not sure where my dour companion was looking, but the stage show entertainment value for me was better than anything I’d seen in recent time. The primal release was both compelling and contagious. I danced my ass off and found some new favourites as well as screaming along to the old Miles tracks. The drunken departing friend and I managed to squeeze our way to the front in time for Honey Bee and the carnage of any Vasco Era grand finale. Sid did his best all night, but had obviously been holding some in reserve for the track and it was well appreciated by me, and the rest of the throng.

I came out sweaty, hoarse and disappointed in my friends. They were quick to criticise and had stood in standard arms folded rock snob pose all night. Honestly, $15 to see one of the greatest on the Oz circuit and all they could do was pick faults. Sure Sid was looking a tad sallow and showing the effects of a gruelling tour, but Ted and Fitzy were solid enough to pull him through. And that’s what bands do. They support each other and make sure the punters get what they came for, night after night, town after town. And I’d pay the $15 every night if I could.

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