Gig review: Airbourne + Mother Vulture at Cheese and Grain, Frome

Live review: Airbourne and Mother Vulture at Cheese and Grain, Frome

By STEVE MASCORD

HERE’S the thing they maybe don’t appreciate back in Warrnambool.

Tonight’s support band is Mother Vulture, a whirlwind of Faith No Morish changes of tempo, mood and even instruments from nearby Bristol. They’re amazing. Halfway through the remarkable set in this somewhat-secret Airbourne warm-up gig, bassist Chris Simpson teases guitarist Brodie McGuire over a pre-gig encounter with Joel O’Keeffe.

Putting on his worst Australian accent, Simpson apes McGuire saying ‘g’day, how are yas?’ To which Simpson allegedly replied “Oh, I’ve been an Airbourne fan since I was eight!’, causing the Airbourne frontman to awkwardly leave.

But Simpson himself later tells the appreciative crowd that Airbourne was his first show at the age of 15.

In Europe, to a certain age group, Airbourne are – say it quietly – influential. Guernica Mancini, former singer for Thundermother and now with The Gems, recalls travelling all around the continent on her own to watch them. Getting on a roadie’s shoulders to visit the crowd? To a whole generation that’s a J O’Keefe, not A Young, stunt.

Of course the danger in being a band entering its middle age in an era where airplay is almost impossible is to stay fresh. To that end, Airbourne have a spectacular light show, been rehearsing slavishly in Manchester for a week and, as Joel says tonight, “we looked on the internet and we say you were saying we’ve had the same setlist for 10 years. To be fair, that’s not far from the truth”.

How does an early 2000s rock band keep things … well, real? As if to acknowledge the danger of becoming your own tribute band, they’ve put on sale tonight a T-shirt for “Frillneck … Australia’s leading Airbourne tribute act makes their UK debut tonight”.

Tonight’s venue, the Cheese and Grain in Froome, Somerset, is as perfect as such a hall can be – quick access to the bar, the audience perfectly spread throughout the room which is not oversold (although sold out quickly) and good acoustics. Airbourne, in the UK and Europe, are a band that inspires denim patches and tattoos. Tonight there are Testament and Soundgarden and Slash’s Snakepit t-shirts but mostly they’re from previous Airbourne shows attended by a demographic from early twenties up to late fifties.

Rhythm guitarist Brett Tyrrell is first on stage with the opening notes of new single “Gutsy” and the whiz-bang lighting rig makes an immediately impression. The crunching hard rock rolls by: “Fat City”, the excellent “Cradle To The Grave”, rarely-heard “Hungry” off Black Dog Barking, “Back In The Game”, “Raise The Flag”.

There’s a moshpit forming to my right, the odd chant of “Aussie Aussie Aussie” and a bloke down the front performs a shoey with Joel’s assistance. But if you’ve seen Airbourne a lot, it’s all fun without being any different aside – aside from the lights and the somewhat novel setlist.

Then during “Live It Up”, second from the end of the main set, the tone changes.

Joel starts throwing plastic cups of beer to members of the crowd, as is his wont. Many of these members are on their friends’ shoulders, which is unsurprisingly frowned upon by security (who aren’t musclebound men as you might imagine but just normal people, with a nudge towards an older age group than the crowd).

The band clashes with the sesecurity. “Let them have fun!” Joel shouts. Drummer Ryan O’Keeffe – wearing one of those Frillneck tees – leaves his perch to speak to a bouncer on the lip of the stage.

“There’s a reason this gig sold out in five minutes – people want to come here and forget what’s happening outside these walls! Let them stay up there,” he adds in reference to those on shoulders. The security scurries away and maybe the band won’t be back here soon, I don’t know.

But from then on, this was the same Airbourne you saw 20 years ago; the meticulous rehearsals and life as a recognisable rock star who watched Back To The Beginning from the stage melted into insignificance. It was back to provincial Victoria, where there was surely a hint of anarchy at every show.

There was no veneer, just wild abandon, to what was left of proceedings, which was “Breaking Out Of Hell” and and encore of “Ready To Rock” and “Running Wild”.

Across the road, a fellow on his own burst through the door at the Blue Boar, dazed, eyes wide open, asking the room “did anyone see Airbourne”?

Everyone in the room saw Airbourne. They were much better than Frillneck.