Wednesday’s night’s Tropical Fuck Storm concert was really great. It was in a small venue, maybe about 500 people. In their homeland of Australia they are considered a supergroup, made up of two members from a successful group, and two members from another group.
Their line up is a male drummer, a female bassist/vocalist, a female guitarist/keyboardist/vocalist, and a male vocalist/guitarist.
The male singer, Gareth Liddiard has an odd, gnarly voice that I really love. His guitar playing reminds me a bit of Snakefinger (known for his work with the residents.) He plays a lot of angular, dissonant melodies with strange harmonics. Although he’s not an overly skilled technician, he uses a lot of pedals to create unusual guitar sounds. He cites Dimitri Shostakovich, Igor Stravinsky, The Stooges, North African music and Olivier Messiaen as musical influences. So that might explain his unique style. He’s a tall guy with black hair, dressed in faded black jeans and a frumpled black shirt, he looks like he might be your oddball hometown neighbor who just came out of the tool shed.
The bass player, Fiona Kitschin, did what she needed to do. Nothing flashy, but for rock and roll flashy isn’t required. She looked cute in her 1960’s nice girl dress and ironic sneakers. She took lead vocals for a couple songs. She was a good performer, but the least active in a very active band.
Erica Dunn, switched between guitar, keys, and vocals. She was a force on stage. She had so much rock and roll swagger and attitude, she looked like she was Aerosmith guitarist Joe Perry’s little sister. In a short yellow strapless dress, her body, thin and sinewy, she prowled the stage and hopped with glee. She acted as the band’s between-Song spokesperson, hyping up the audience and telling them how happy they were to be here. She was a confident and skilled musician, never missing a note or a beat during her onstage antics.
The drummer Lauren Hammel was a powerhouse. A skinny little guy, he expended about 50% more energy than he needed as he bashed away at the kit. But that energy was not really wasted. A heavy hitter makes the drum tones sound different, infuses energy to the entire band, and shows the audience what passion he has for the music. He often hit the snare drum with both sticks simultaneously, delivering an exploding shotgun sound to the beat. At other times playing the long overlooked bell of the cymbals, or proving thunderous fills, raising his arms high in the air allowing him to hit the drums with maximum force.
I don’t listen many bands that have a grungy sound. Their music was like heavy waves of dissonant mush flowing over you. Gliding between slow moody soundscapes and epic swells of aggression. Everything sounded just a bit off-key. The singer gurgled and howled as if struggling to get out every word. Often the two females sang duel lead vocals. When they sang backing vocals their tones were so different than the lead singers that they shared a different sonic space, creating a pleasing unified sound.
The male and female guitar players often played their askew melodies in pleasantly grating harmonies. Near the end of the set the sound became noisier. The male guitarist spent periods on his knees on the floor while he turned knobs on his pedals to create different sounds.
My favorite song by the group is titled You Let My Tires Down. It is the tale of a guy’s girlfriend who forgets to take her medication and slashes the tires on his rented car. She is seen on CCTV and arrested. She is rumored to be making a plea deal and now all of their friends are paranoid because they suspect she will rat on them for their drug use and dealing. The song seemed to be a crowd favorite receiving loud cheers when it began.
When they returned for the encore the female guitarist seemed to be playing wheelbarrow with the drummer. She held is feet while he walked on his hands. Before they began the male singer asked where the bar was because he needed a beer. In response, the drummers jumped into the audience and crowd surfed back to the bar to retrieve the beverage.
For a group with such dark music they seemed to be full of smiles and laughter. The encore was a rousing version of Stayin’ Alive (Yes, that stayin’ Alive), sung by the females. It was noisy and rambunctious, perhaps better fitted to the lyrics than the original disco version. When they finally exited, the male singer and the female bass player, who are a couple, did a little hand holding.
Tropical Fuck Storm (Warsaw, Brooklyn, NY, 10/02/24) Concert Review / Instagram
