IF we blindly believed in everything on Instagram, and it’s bikini-clad or muscle-bound “influencers”, you’d come to the conclusion that as a society we’re obsessed with the image of traditional attractiveness.
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Rock’n’roll and popular music - since Elvis first shook his hips and slicked back his pompadour – has always been about image.
Yet two major acts touring Australia lately have shown that perhaps modern music fans at more discerning than that.
Firstly English hit-maker Ed Sheeran, who is hardly your conventional pop star aesthetically, smashed records by selling more than 1 million tickets during his Australian and New Zealand tour this month. A mind-blowing result for a bookish redhead.
Melbourne punks Smith Street Band also look anything but conventional. While it would be ridiculous to compare their level of success to that of the globe-conquering Sheeran, The Smithies’ rise to become one of Australia’s most beloved independent rock bands is no less remarkable.
Smith Street frontman Wil Wagner is the antithesis of the major label rock star. A hulking man with an unkempt beard dressed in t-shirt and shorts. Someone more readily seen on the hill barracking for his football team rather than commanding a stage.
His rag-tag bandmates also look completely unspectacular, but that’s the appeal. They’re like us.
Newcastle has always been one of The Smithies best markets, ever since Wagner first played solo here a decade ago.
But Wednesday night was their biggest show to date. The Bar On The Hill sold out almost a month ago for the second date of their largest ever tour.
The pouring rain outside made for a steamy atmosphere as Melbourne punk band Press Club kicked off the festivities in their Newcastle debut.
Hype has been building for the four-piece through their singles Suburbia and My Body’s Changing and the release of their debut album Late Teens last week.
It’s justified. Frontwoman Natalie Foster, while petite in stature, possesses a guttural voice, which she amplified over a buzz-saw of punk guitar and driving drums.
There’s some strong melodies there and Foster is an engaging performer with her wild mane of hair, but a stronger arsenal of material is needed before they advance from curtain-raiser status.
Bec Sandridge was a more interesting support choice. The Wollongong artist has a penchant for writing quirky ‘80s-influenced indie-pop. Her stage presence was immediately striking as she almost glided around the stage waif-like.
Twice she broke a guitar string, and without an obvious spare, Press Club guitarist Greg Rietwyk came to the rescue with his axe.
Sandridge was not perturbed using the unfamiliar six-string as she continued with You’re A F—king Joke.
The male-dominated crowd swelled for The Smith Street Band. It was hot. It was ferocious.
Wagner was a sweat-dripping mess, but he never slackened the pace. His abrasive and heavily Australian vocal mightn’t be for everybody, but it perfectly suits his lyrics of vulnerable masculinity.
“I’m lacking match fitness,” Wagner said. “We didn’t do a pre-season or stretch.”
His five bandmates, with include female members Jess Locke and Lucy Wilson and new drummer Matt Bodiam, never deviated far from Wagner’s lead. They simply fleshed out his folk-rock tunes with punk dynamics.
Tracks from The Smithies latest album More Scared Of You Than You Are Of Me like Birthdays, Passiona and Suffer drew singalongs, as did the old favourite Young Drunk, even if most of the audience struggled to remember the words beyond the chorus’ hook.
The slow-burning The Belly Of Your Bedroom from their 2011 debut No One Gets Lost Anymore was a tender touch. Wagner began the song with just himself and Wilson on keys, before the rest of the band returned.
Death To The Lads, a rousing condemnation of toxic masculinity, ironically provided the most aggressive action in the mosh pit and the biggest singalong.
The night ended with I Love Life when Wagner asked the crowd, “And am I enough?” The resounding answer was clearly - yes Wil, you and The Smith Street Band were more than enough.