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Review: The Quireboys, Thekla
Hailing from the former gold rush boom town of Bendigo, Australia, The Black Aces are in no hurry to deviate from that great Aussie rock template laid down by AC/DC and Rose Tattoo. Equipped with a fine array of non-ironic moustaches and plenty of hard-workin’, hard-boozin’ blue collar attitude, they waste no time in getting down to the business of rockin’, unburdened by originality or pretension.
The only questions are (a) how long it’ll take to get to a song with Rock’n’Roll in the title, and (b) which of the two that fit the bill on their current album it’ll be. The answers, respectively, are (a) not very long at all, and (b) Show You How to Rock’n’Roll, whose guitar intro is strongly reminiscent of Thunderstruck.
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Still, as anyone who’s ever endured an evening of challenging experimental music will tell you, originality can be a highly overrated concept. The wheel might go stubbornly unreinvented here, but the Black Aces know how to make it go round very efficiently indeed, winning plenty of well deserved applause as the venue fills up.
They even drop a verse of Stranglehold by Ted Nugent (surely the ultimate ‘love the music, hate the politics’ artist) into set closer Soulstealer, as guitarist/vocalist Tyler Kinder goes on a Joel O’Keeffe-style audience walkabout. If Airbourne eventually start to flag, this lot are poised to take over.
Also settled comfortably into their groove, Geordie funsters The Quireboys are the perfect choice for a beer-fuelled good time Friday night. They’re introduced, as ever, by affable gorblimey tour manager and walking slice of rock’n’roll history Alan Clayton, best mate of Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood.
Alas, Spike has broken his foot in an unspecified, hopefully rock-related mishap, which limits his movement – much, he jokes, to the relief of the rest of the band – but the lame frontman remains in fine croaky voice.
They’re still playing it rather too safe by leaning so heavily on A Bit of What You Fancy (a number two chart hit back in 1990, lest we forget), airing seven songs from it tonight, which sells short the recent creditable material that makes them more than a nostalgia act.
That said, nobody here is complaining as the packed audience bellows along with everything from There She Goes Again to the inevitable Seven O’Clock. But, hey, it’s a great album and Guy Griffin’s sublime guitar solo in I Don’t Love You Anymore is always a treat.
New blues covers collection White Trash Blues seems like an odd career move after the Quireboys’ post-2013 burst of creativity, and is certainly not for boring old purists. They air just three songs from it tonight, the standout being an absolutely stonking version of Leaving Trunk – a standard of disputed provenance, which was popularised by Taj Mahal and the Keef Hartley Band. Great to hear Keith Weir’s piano enjoying such welcome prominence in the sound mix too.
We get just a handful of songs from their many other albums, though the response to Gracie B, Hello, The Finer Stuff and I Love This Dirty Town should really embolden them to mine their catalogue a little more deeply.
Prior to the encore, Spike grumbles about having to give way to a “shitty club night” but then it’s C&W time with much yee-hawing during the atypical Sweet Mary Ann (The Quireboys’ Sweet Virginia, if you will), followed, inevitably, by the mucky, throwaway Sex Party. In keeping with their agreeable spirit of boozy bonhomie, this remains more Sid James than John Holmes. Same time, same place again next year then, chaps?
All photos by Shona Cutt
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