REGURGITATOR – Quarter Pounder: 25 years of still being consumed!

Emerging from one of the eddies in the independent undercurrent of Brisbane’s 90s music scene, the past 2.5 decades have been of ceaseless re-inventive spirit, playing with form and flux, the affection of self-parody, ever ambling a rickety bridge of modus vivendi, all bagged up with an effervescent outsider enthusiasm that has never left their skin. And now… to pound the quarter century mark with a fully blown visually rehabilitated retrospective of a show straddling a holographic hyperbole of antiquated technology, trawling the analogue back through the digital.

And when it comes to those ubiquitous lists… maybe 11 ALBUMS or so if you count the live, Jingles compilation and latest kids releases; EPS surely must be 7 of these at least… and in their time maybe 16 singles, a few 7inches and 5 or so DVD releases. And MUSIC VIDEOS feels like maybe 47 or so of those… SHIRTS jeez, must have been close to 120 or so designs spread across… approximately 905 PERFORMANCES or thereabouts including maybe 25 national headline tours, 6 Big Day Out tours, so many festivals you could poke a stick at… along  with some great times playing with DEVO, Boredoms, The Prodigy, TISM, Audio Active, CIV, The Mint Chicks, Ratatat, Senyawa, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Helmet, The Melvins and more including the odd collaborative excursions into theatre, dance, live soundtracks and generally just bent on allowing an unstable ingenuity… and on that note who could forget 21 days inside a glass BUBBLE! Whatever the extent of this output means in the greater scheme of things the obvious inconsistencies have always been the open pursuit of creative probity, humour above serious intent, sustainable mentalities above any need for dominance, and about as honest unto themselves as possible – whomever that might be? All in all just playing to the ad-hoc… making it all up as it goes.

Explorers who didn’t find anything, the Fauves have ranged the Australian landscape for 31 years, searching fruitlessly for an inland sea where a weary middle-aged man might erect a deckchair and take the healing waters. They have released albums that have slipped down the backs of couches, been lost in the wash and left on the back seats of taxis. Long have journalists issued pro-forma three-star reviews before repairing to the second-hand music store to greedily hock their complimentary album, only to emerge indignant with less money than they spent on the parking meter. When the Fauves were your age, they had a record deal. They shook hands with industry executives across broad desks made from endangered rainforest timber while staring blankly from 32nd storey windows onto the insignificant lives of the rest of the world. Now, the only contracts to which they are signatories say that every year you’ve got to lose a little more dignity. Can you justify being 50 and in a rock band unless you’re touring your 1975 20-million seller to negatively geared property investors who stopped listening to new music in 1988? There it is again – 31 years. The Fauves formed in the bicentennial year of 1988, even as the tall ships were sailing into Port Phillip Bay in rude celebration of 200 years of invasion, dispossession and white supremacy. Their first EP was released on vinyl because who knew if this CD thing was ever going to take off. Decades later, their next vinyl release is a double album. In the age of streaming this is like calling JB Hi-Fi to get your cathode ray television repaired. Its songs of quiet melancholy, fake positivity and misdirected longing are carefully curated to ensure that that listeners must expend maximum effort to access their favourites. You can try to skip songs but you risk scratching the record.This is the Fauves’ wheezing marketing pitch declaiming their greatness. In the past, people preferred others. The hard rubbish was dumped on the nature strip but remains uncollected. Until the truck comes, there it lies, forgotten but not gone.
www.thefauves.com   thefauves2.bandcamp.com

I would like to put in a complaint to the Manager about the vulgar band, DickLord. I heard through my church gossip group that these unruly creatures were playing at your establishment. Karen and I decided we would take a peek at their show and we were not prepared for what was unleashed upon us. Misfits, young and old singing, laughing, doing that trendy pogo dance, it was out of control! DickLord are no doubt fuelled by Lucifer himself, with that heavy, fast music and utterly distasteful lyrics. At one point, my face actually started melting, and I thought my ears were going to bleed. I am adding them on to my list of local heathens and I will be taking action to stop this anarchy in our community. Regards, Debra. dicklord.bandcamp.com