Live review: Johnny Diesel and the Injectors at Sydney Cove Tavern, Thursday, October 15 1988
By STEVE MASCORD
“I DON’T see any of you people up the front going to the bar,” leered Johnny as a dancefloor full of lovestruck teenage girls glared speechlessly back at him.
This is a rock’n’roll band. They’re wearing jeans, they like sax, they send you deaf. The Sydney Cove Tavern is abuzz with energy, 500 punters playing spot-the-star or go-gaga-over-the-frontman as the Injectors rip through their repertoire of blues-based hard rock, with Mark Lizotte, alias Diesel, establishing himself as a hell of a stage presence.
It is the launch of the Injectors’ first single, but they draw so many girls and industry bigwigs, it could be the launch of a10th album. Mingle for a while and you could meet John Swan, or Justin Stanley from Noiseworks, or ace INXS interviewer Brad Robinson, or any number of publishers, concert promoters and assorted record company types.
Reportedly, you could have also run into a member or two of INXS. But no-one gave a damn really, because a few stars were being born on stage.
The show begins with a roar and develops into a veritable holocaust. There’s perhaps nothing new in the Injectors approach. It’s midwestern, classic style rock’n’roll – the sort Chuck Berry would be proud of. The sax comes in at the right time, the hooks are conveniently clever and Diesel himself handles a guitar like a veteran. But it’s done damn well, better than just about any Australian band on the road at the moment.
Diesel is a personality. He struts around with a low strung axe and takes no shit, just like Aussie rock’s classic heroes. When a pair of thongs are hurled in his path, he tells the offender to “shove them where they fit”. He may have a babyface, but he’s no pretty boy.
His material ranges from out-and-out blues guitar – at which he excels – to reverberating, vital commercial hard rock without any pretensions. Long guitar solos in the midst of a show that’s loud anyway can be downright boring.
But Diesel does it with panache and passion, leaving you eager for another dose.
Naturally the centrepiece of the night, a raunchy track called “Don’t Need Love”, bobs up mid-set, as does flipside “Never Last”, as attractive an album track as you’d ever want to hear.
But the sheer quality of the other material is what smacks you in the face and leaves you grasping for tomorrow night’s Gig Guide. It’s the essence of Australian rock – there are no special lights and the drum kit is not made up to look like anything but a drum kit. There’s not too much room to move, but Johnny uses it all.
Above all, it’s LOUD. Very LOUD.
The man still known to some as “Jimmy Barnes’ guitarist” is payed a big favour at the end when the working class man takes to the stage for four songs, including “Shakin’ All Over” and “After Midnight”.
Jimmy is deservedly a legend, but perhaps one day he will be known as the bloke who once sang with Johnny Diesel.
This review first appeared in On The Street on October 26, 1988
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