I saw dEUS again last night at University of Sydney student pub the Manning Bar. The show was pretty similar to my thoughts from before. They’re essentially a guitar band, especially live. Songs like “The Architect” and “Theme From Turnpike”, where they use deeper guitar grooves, remain my favourites.
If anything, they showed even more energy last night. Certainly the sound was much better last night than it had been at Koko.
A few of their straightforward, slow rockers in the middle were a bit generic. But they started well and finished well. Overall it was a very fun show. It was also amusing to be amongst so much spoken French and Flemish.
Listen to “Ghost”, from their new album, below, or to the whole album here.
dEUS. Photo by anke meijer via Creative Commons lilcense
Special note needs to be made of opening act The Paradise Motel who were all kinds of shit. They played at being grim and literary: they’re no Nick Cave. They played at stark atonal melancholia and punctuated shrieking: they’re no Einstürzende Neubauten. They tried too hard, did not connect with the crowd, and were awful.
Did you miss out on what was cool and new in music in 2011? No fear, top music spot Fluxblog has compiled a 10-album MP3 set of their favourite songs from last year. You can download them all. For free. It runs a gamut that you won’t find on Billboard (though many songs were popular hits, too) or Now That’s What I Call Music volume 439.
In fact, if you felt you missed out on good tunes from 2010, 2004, 2003, or 2002 you can download all those too. Mind-bending!
I gave my gig-going a shot of class last night with a classical performance at the Sydney Opera House.
It was the second of three nights called Choral Contrasts. The performance was in two parts: first was French composer Francis Poulenc’s mid-20th century Gloria, and the second was Mozart’s famous (and controversial) Requiem, in the traditional Süssmayr completion (Mozart dies whilst writing the Requiem).
It was all pretty magical. Both works have religious bases but they really couldn’t be more different. Poulenc’s Gloria is a joyful, celebratory ode of praise, while Requiem is a solemn goodbye to earthly life. Each piece was deeply touching. You really can’t go past Mozart, though, for being mind-blowing, even if someone else finished it for him.
Both works also obviously share choirs as major elements. I like choirs: the human element adds emotion and connection, even when the lyrics are in Latin. And the Philharmonia is larger than I’d expected. I liked the guest soloists the least. They were very good singers, for sure, but the symphony and the choir were what I wanted to hear, and were enough for me. The skill and co-ordination required for so many musicians to perform together so well still amazes me.
They were very touching, very emotional performances.
*Or, how I had an awesome Friday and I love my brother.
Yesterday was a non-stop smorgasbord of fun.
One of my colleagues brought in a box full of Pasticceria Papa‘s famous cannoli. They are seriously, heart-stoppingly wonderful.
After the workday finished there was a workplace financial year kickoff celebration at The Oaks. We were in one of the upstairs rooms, and I didn’t stay too long, but it was a good laugh.
Then it was time to taxi over to Sydney Uni and Manning Bar, where the gig festivities kicked off with a few good mates. There were several acts, most better than the last. I missed the first act, The Stiffys. Here are the ones we did see.
Mojo Juju play a swampy New Orleans gutbucket jazz shuffle. Their first couple of songs had me worried as they were slow and similar. But they brought it up in tempo, volume, and attitude as they went on, and got much better. They were fun, and quite stylin’.
Manchoir were an amazing surprise. They are exactly what the name implies: a choir of men. About 10 of them, all in singlets, some with bottles of beer in hand, performing a capella renditions of such great man-classics as “Wanted Dead or Alive” and “Highway to Hell”. Hilarious!
The Crooked Fiddle Band played prog folk metal. I’ve never heard such a heavy polyrhythmic racket from a lute, violin, upright bass, and drums. It was mostly instrumental and mostly pretty intense. The woman playing fiddle had virtuoso level: she was amazing. Very skilled and dynamic, but it missed some of the fun and emotion that the earlier two acts had set us up for. But definitely an amazing band.
The Beards. What can I say about this band that I haven’t already done? They love beards, disdain all those who are beardless, and play many rockin’ tunes about beards. Last night they played several from their new album, Having a Beard is the New Not Having a Beard, which I hadn’t heard them play live before. They were, as usual, awesome. If you’ve missed previous posts watch thesevideos.
Afterwards we had a couple of beers at the Marly Bar in Newtown, made all the more entertaining by a power-tripping bouncer and a soft-porn session by some drunkards who forgot they were in public.
Two nights ago I caught Seasick Steve at the Metro in the city. It was a very good show.
Steve, if you don’t know, plays the blues on a number of mostly home-made guitars. He’s a good ol’ American boy in the best hobo musical storyteller tradition. He’s a long career of recording engineering and production for other artists, but has come into his own as a performer in the last decade or so. I saw himtwice in London. He was here to play the Byron Bay Bluesfest, and I figured I enjoyed him enough to catch him again on his sideshow in Sydney.
Seasick Steve
I skipped the opening act, Claude Hay, not because he’s not awesome – he is – but because I’ve seen him three times already this year.
The last two times I saw Seasick Steve he played on his own; it was just him, his stomping foot, and his guitars. That was more than enough of a show. But he had a drummer this time, a beardy bloke who pounded a pretty good beat. The first tune was Steve playing his ode to his One-String Diddley-Bow: always fun.
But at the second song he introduced his bass player. Bass player, I thought? He’s branched out to entire band now, has he? I wonder what that will be like.
It was only then that I discovered that Seasick Steve’s bass player is none other than John Paul Jones, who was one-quarter of the legendary Led Zeppelin.
Three people in front of us turned around when they heard my brain explode.
Somehow, JPJ has been playing with Steve for nearly a year, and recorded his last album with him, and it entirely eluded my notice. I’ve become a pretty poor music fanatic, honestly.
The night of music went ‘way past all my expectations. All of Steve’s songs are great blues stomps, and he plays a slide guitar with incredible enthusiasm. He tells wry jokes and funny stories and then sings rough-throated hollers while he punishes however many strings happen to be on the piece of wood in his hands. There’s not a lot of variety in the songs, but they’re honest and rhythmic and great roots music.
But then, on top of that, was John Paul Jones. He’s still a demon musician. He wields that bass like a maestro, and lays down some serious groove. But with Steve he played electric mandolin, acoustic guitar, and even a freakin’ Champan Stick. When he was on the mandolin he set out some solos nearly as fiery as Steve’s. I’ve seen JPJ before with Them Crooked Vultures, but he had more to do here, and more fun, I think.
Together they were a phenomenal trio. Wow.
Oddly, one of the highlights was the quietest songs. The drummer left the stage as Steve and JPJ sat alongside each other, John with an acoustic guitar. Steve said that when he and John were both kids, many years ago, the band they each most wanted to be in was The Everly Brothers. He cracked a joke about John going on to be in a pretty good band himself. They then proceeded to duet a slow, tender, quiet version of “Cathy’s Clown”. Magic.
This Guardian article cleverly draws a line from what the right brain does, to the dark before the creative dawn, to Bob Dylan giving up music in the ’60s only to find a new voice.
Every creative journey begins with a problem. It starts with a feeling of frustration, the dull ache of not being able to find the answer …Tales of insight all share a few essential features that scientists use to define the “insight experience”. The first stage is the impasse. If we’re lucky, however, that hopelessness eventually gives way to a revelation.
During those frantic first minutes of writing ["Like A Rolling Stone", Dylan's] right hemisphere found a way to make something new out of a incongruous list of influences, drawing them together into a catchy song. He didn’t yet know what he was doing – the ghost was still in control – but he felt the excitement of an insight, the subliminal thrill of something new.
The story of “Like A Rolling Stone” is a story of creative insight. It took only a few seconds before a mental block became a work of art.
Last night a mate and I sat quietly at the Opera House while Will Oldham – usually known these days when he performs as Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy – and his band, the Cairo Gang, astounded us with musical beauty.
Will Oldham. flickr photo from Man Alive! via Creative Commons license
Oldham has been making honest, bewitching, haunting, delicate DIY folk songs for many years now. His no-frills (unless you count literary or emotional frills) approach impresses me. I don’t find myself listening to vast amounts of his music, as it demands a lot of attention. But his live show was compelling and heartfelt.
His voice is “clear and open-throated”, as wisely observed by my friend. There’s almost no between-song banter, just spot-on harmonies, acoustic frameworks for tales of tentative hope, and melancholy that seems absurdly private. It’s all just so lovely and touching; I find it quite hard to describe after the fact.
The only bizarre thing about a Bonnie Prince Billy performance – and I had no idea this was coming – was the herky-jerky leg flailings. Oldham does weird things with his limbs, especially his legs when he’s playing guitar. It’s quite distracting for a while.
“Beast For Thee”, “Quail and Dumplings”, “Go Folks, Go” and “New Partner” were highlights. “No Match” made me feel a little scared. But they ended the show playing the Opera House great hall acoustically, with no mics or amplification whatsoever, and we all, silently sitting there, felt so much better for it.
He’s just so very, very good. Oldham is one of the great results of American music so far.
I spent the weekend in Goulburn, Australia’s first inland city, and host to what I believe was the 12th Australian Blues Music Festival. I was keen to go for a few reasons: I love the blues, Goulburn is only 2 hours’ drive from Sydney, almost all the acts were Australian, and almost all the shows were free.
I didn’t make the Thursday and Friday night shows, but drove down early Saturday. Gigs were held at several venues in the downtown core, at pubs, parks, and social clubs. It was a really pleasant country-town vibe, and we wound up seeing a lot of the same people and performers over and over again at the different venues.
This festival doesn’t have the big names (and big prices) of the Byron Bay Bluesfest, but here were some really great performers, ones that I feel I was lucky to see for free.
On Saturday I saw several bands.
I started at one crowded pub with The Resonators, a father-and-son act that got a full slot by winning the street busking competition the previous year. They paid blues standards, with solid guitar skills, but the singing was just OK.
A hope to the pub across the street and next up was Leroy Lee, more of a folk singer. He was good, with a looping device and some keen feedback skills that gave his guitar songs lots of mood and texture. But they did start sounding a bit same-y after a while.
Back to the first pub for a band I picked because of the name: Tobasco Tom & Doc White. These guys turned out to be fantastic: steeped in early Americana, with everything from jump blues to Virginia murder ballads. Funny too. I caught one song on video.
Down the road to the Soldiers Club for Diana Wolfe & The Black Sheep. Diana was another winner: very charismatic and fun, and singing very danceable blues and jazz standards.
I left partway through her set to see a trio called Damn Fine Gentlemen in the park next door. They were a heavier rockin’ sound, with some interesting lyrics on some original songs, but the singer’s vocals left me wanting more. So I went back to see the rest of Diana Wolfe’s set.
After a fantastic dinner we stopped into a club with a large house band whose name I didn’t catch, but who were a little too sweaty and full-on for me. We decided to pop over to the Bowling Club to catch Hat Fitz & Cara Robinson. And I’m so glad we did, because they were amazing. Deep delta slide blues, some heavy UK rock-blues influence, and even some Celtic fluting. I got them on video doing a dynamic version of Blind Willie Johnson’s “Nobody’s Fault But Mine”.
On Sunday some of the singers we’d seen on the previous day – including Diana Wolfe – did a gospel song service in the park that was a pleasant way to start the morning.
After that we caught Halfway to Forth, two brothers from Tasmania – now in Adelaide – who really impressed me with their soulful harmonising, guitar skills, and laid-back blues and reggae tunes.
As I said: to see all these shows for free – and we could have done many more – was absolutely fantastic. There was so much authentic blues, so much Australian talent, and such a good atmosphere around the whole town, that I’d easily return and recommend it to any roots music fan. Way to go, Goulburn.
Despite being a massive Hall & Oates fan in the ’80s, I wasn’t going to go to their show here in Sydney. It’s been years since I heard anything new from them, and felt a bit over it. But a good friend of mine is a big fan and wanted to go and that made me reconsider. So last night he and I went down to Darling Harbour to see them.
We gave opening band Icehouse a miss. I’ve never been a big fan of them. I thought it best to leave them to the Aussie fans who adore them. My mate and I had a couple of beers and caught up instead.
We timed our arrival perfectly, getting into the Entertainment Centre and finding our seats just moments before the headline duo took the stage.
I’ll be honest: the first half of the show was pretty average. Darryl Hall’s voice took a few songs to warm up, and by doing a couple of big songs early – “Maneater” first, and “Out of Touch” third – I think they squandered a bit of impact. They played a couple of older songs that I’m sure the true fans loved but that I don’t care for (e.g., “Family Man”), and John Oates songs that – c’mon, let’s be fair – aren’t as compelling.
But either the drinks I’d had kicked in or they loosened up as they went (or maybe both) but things got better toward the end. The encores, especially, hit home and had many of us up and dancing. “I Can’t Go For That (No Can Do)” was quite cool. “Private Eyes” had us clapping, too. The joy that the crowd felt in the last parts of the set was infectious, and really fun to be part of.
Those songs are truly great, and Darryl and John are a great writing and singing duo. The band was fine too. But Hall & Oates isn’t a good act for stadium venues like this: you lose a lot in that space and distance. They are, in essence, an R&B vocal duo, and our nostalgic love for them was probably all that got them over the pass line by the end.
I’ve just booked a hotel in Goulburn, NSW, for the second weekend in February. I’ve done this not because of a deep desire to revisit The Big Merino (yes, I’ve already been once), but because Goulburn hosts the Australian Blues Music Festival then.
I don’t know any of the artists that are playing but most shows are free. I expect pleasant surprises.
Back in the ’80s I belonged to mail-order music club Columbia House. I belonged several times, in fact; the presumptive plan was to join for their massive “several albums for a penny” entry deal, fulfil the minimum commitment of a few albums at full cost plus shipping, then quit and join again. I was with them during tapes, and remained during the CD era for a little while.
At some point I somehow picked up a self-titled album by a band called The Front. I don’t remember how I chose it. I knew nothing about the band. But I enjoyed the album. It was fairly cheesy hard rock. It was very close to The Cult, but with some slower grooves – plus a singer’s voice – that are a lot like The Doors. I played it a lot.
I never did learn any more about The Front. Eventually I got rid of the CD. I think I might have traded it to my brother for something, I’m not sure.
But I’ve thought about the album a lot over the years. As the Internet grew in scale I would occasionally look for it. But I never found anything. There were a couple of obscure bands with that name, it seems.
That changed this morning.
I did a Grooveshark search for The Front, and the second song it brought up was called “In The Garden”. That immediately triggered a memory of a track from the album I had. Sure enough, it was a song from that now fondly-remembered album.
From there I was able to find more songs, including that whole first album, which I’ve playlisted on Grooveshark. God, it’s cheesy. Awesomely, nostalgic-ly cheesy. I also found out that The Front were from Kansas City, and (clearly) had a short, obscure career. They renamed themselves Baker’s Pink, and the singer eventually went solo. I’m not going to bother with any of that. I’m just going to jam to the awesomeness of listening to these songs and pretending I’m a teenager listening to them for the first time.
Last night was another Sydney Festival event: 41 Strings, an orchestral piece by Nick Zinner, guitarist of the rock band Yeah Yeah Yeahs, based on Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. I know that’s a lot of cultural references to take in at once, but bear with me.
It was at the Opera House. It started with a drum piece, IIII, created by some of the drummers that also perform with Zinner. It’s also based on Four Seasons. There were a couple of dozen percussionists and two synth players, all arranged in the round. And my god, it was a thundering, impressive bit of playing. The rhythms weren’t super complicated – I imagine that would be hard with such an ensemble – but they were mesmerising. There was a lot of heavy crunch from the synths, of the sort that the Brooklyn bands have been producing in the last couple of years. It was cool and heavy and jubilant and compelling. I loved it.
Then came Zinner, his 40 other stringed accompanists (including a large contingent from the Australia Youth Orchestra) and a few drums. The four pieces were a blend of classic and contemporary – the lead guitar unmistakable Yeah Yeah Yeahs sound – and none were dull. In reflection perhaps it could have had more slow, quiet pieces. But it was certainly a big, lush sound, and one that was easy to engage with.
I liked both pieces, but I think that IIII affected me more. There’s something about that many drums, that much booming rhythm, that affects me primally.
Neither work instrumental work overstays its welcome; the whole show was over in 90 minutes, including an intermission. But that worked for me. Any longer would have devolved into stuffiness.
Last night was my third Sydney Festival event. It was a gig, part of the festival’s So Frenchy, So Chic series, and took place at the Keystone Bar at Hyde Park Barracks. I like that as a festival venue: it’s downtown and feels busy, and has a good mix of semi-indoor (in the tent) and outdoor areas that flow very well.
First was Asa, whose gentle, jazzy set was pretty average for the first few songs. But the groove and impact picked up as she went on. Her soulful songs – part R&B, part rock – became catchier and punchier. And she’s irresistibly likeable herself: she dances, she plays the trumpet, she chats with the front row, and she looks like a funky librarian.
Soon followed Féfé. He and his band were fun from the start. They play hip-hop with lots of pop and funk. And he will not leave the crowd alone: the (moderately obliging) assembled listeners had to do our fair share of hand waving, clapping, jumping, singing, running left and right, and screaming. That almost all of the songs were in French was fine. Between Féfé and his DJ there was lots of energy going on, and the point was clear: have fun.
Last night was a hyper-joyful night of Sydney Festival folk music at the Enmore Theatre.
The first act – which I did not know about – was of a style called Shangaan Electro, hyper-fast electro dance from South Africa. The group of four dancers and singers, and one DJ, carried on the most hyperkinetic dancing I’ve ever seen for a solid 30 minutes. It was dizzying and tiring to watch. The dancers moved with such joy you couldn’t look away; it also helped that the men wore orange jumpsuits with ridiculously fake beer bellies. The beats flew at breakneck speed. It became almost psychedelic.
The main acts, collectively named Band of Gypsies, were comprised of Romanian folk troupe Taraf de Haïdouks and Macedonian brass band Kočani orkestar. They played song after song of gypsy music: wild violins, three accordions, tubas, clarinets, and lots more. It was a Balkan/middle eastern/Slavic/Latin amalgam of high-energy Romani epics. Bows were flying, fingers were snapping, trumpets were blaring. Everyone took their solos, and a few would occasionally sing. It was irrepressibly jubilant. It was the gypsy spirit.
It’s hard for me to imagine seeing either of these sort of acts here at any other time. Way to go, Sydney Festival.
The Woodford Folk Festival takes place in Queensland between Christmas and New Year’s each year. This time it was attended by a contingent of folk acts from eastern Canada (mostly Newfoundland & Labrador, though a couple from Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and Prince Edward Island as well).
I didn’t get up to Woodford, but I did notice that those Canadian acts were doing a Newfoundland showcase night at the tiny Notes venue here in Newtown (which has a tradition of booking folk and roots acts), on their way out of Oz. So last night I got the chance to see several Canadian acts – all new to me – for just $15, and ten minutes from home. As a certain Mr. Sheen would say: winning.
Ron Hynes
I dragged along a few Aussie friends, snagged one of the last tables, and settled in for some listening. Seven acts played, pretty much non-stop through the evening.
I came in most of the way through the first set, by a couple of members of The Dardenelles. Very quiet, very pretty guitar tunes.
Next was Ennis, a group taking the surname of centrepiece sisters Maureen and Karen. The Celtic influence started in earnest here. They played some guitar and mandolin songs, harmonised as sisters can, told a few jokes, and brought out a sheet of plywood for some stepdancing.
Dwayne & Duane followed: that’s be Cape Breton fiddler Dwayne Coté and Newfie guitarist Duane Andrews. Things jumped up a notch at this point. Both were impressive masters of their instruments, especially Coté. They ranged all over the place, playing Irish reels and Django Reinhardt swing. Very cool.
Ron Hynes was next, and was the only name I sort of knew. He’s been recording since 1972, and is a minor legend in Canadian folk circles. Maybe a major legend if you count the people who know he wrote “Sonny’s Dream”, a very popular Atlantic Canadian tune (also the last song he played, and the only one of the night that some crowd members could sing along to). But I thought his best song was “Dry”. Hynes is one of those guys who must be a great songwriter, because neither he nor his voice are pretty (cf. Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Tom Waits).
Richard Wood is a fiddler from PEI; he was accompanied last night by guitarist and singer (and fellow Islander) Gordon Belsher. They brought a lot of energy to the night, with upbeat fiddle folk-pop. We were initially concerned by Woods’ Nickelback-hair-and-tight-pants look, but he delivered the musical goods. Anyone riffing Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” into a folk night is alright by me.
Next was The Once. They had both feet firmly planted in the Irish sea shanty tradition. Singer Geraldine Hollett had a forceful but calming delivery, and the group harmonised exceptionally well. They also played one of my very favourite songs by the great Stan Rogers, “The Maid On The Shore”.
Last was Sherman Downey & The Silver Lining. They were a full-on folk rock band. They were smooth and catchy and laid back, just a bunch of guys having fun playing songs. And they had an electric banjo, which is kinda cool.
Way to go, Newfies. You put on a super show. And you made me pretty homesick for a night.
Earlier this week I went to a gig The Vanguard, in Newtown, for the first time. It’s a pretty cool little venue.
First up was Matt Andersen, the massive Canadian blues guitarist I’ve already seen twice as he’s toured Australia. He displayed the same pyrotechnics as before; maybe a bit more, as he was the first opening act. The crowd seemed to think it was cool, though a lot of them remained sitting on the floor, which I found a bit odd.
Second was Claire, a relatively new and very young Australian act. Heavy art rock, sort of. Modern, and theatrical, but not emotional enough for me after seeing Matt. The crowd stood up, though.
Finally it was The Beards in their last show of the year. They were as tight and hooky and beard-y as the first time I saw them. You’ve got to have chops if you’re going to be successful as a one-joke band, but they really do it.
Here it is again, because you need to hear it: “You Should Consider Having Sex With a Bearded Man”. Listen, then vote it into triple j’s Hottest 100.
The other week I saw Aussie one-man blues band Claude Hay and Canadian acoustic blues guitar wizard Matt Andersen. We thought they were good enough to see again, and so Sunday afternoon we drove down the coast.
They played an early evening set at The Beaches, a popular pub in the seaside town of Thirroul. And it was a free show!
They were as good as the first time. Hay’s set was exactly the same, I think, but I’m still amazed at the stomping jams he can create with that loop machine. And I love his bass lines.
Andersen mixed it up a bit more, and we got a couple of crowd-pleasing covers (including “Ain’t No Sunshine” and “People Get Ready”). In fact, the crowd was so pleased they cheered him back for two encores.
As luck would have it, I’ve discovered that I’m going to get to see Andersen yet again before he returns to Canada. I’ve just noticed that he’s going to open for The Beards, another band I can’t get enough of, in Newtown on Wednesday night. And since Andersen is now rocking a beard, that fits perfectly.
We got an early Christmas present from my mom, who tipped us off to the fact that Canadian blues guitar wizard Matt Andersen was touring Australia. So last Thursday we took the train down to Cronulla’s Brass Monkey to see him.
It’s a co-headlining tour of two stringed-instrument masters. First up was Claude Hay. First impressions were of a stereotypical Blue Mountains muso: tattooed, semi-hippy, happy, and multi-instrumentalist.
Second impressions: a fantastic Louisiana-blues-based one-man-band. Hay played a twin guitar (lead and bass) he made himself, and a tricked-out sitar. He utilised a loop machine to lay down his own backing tracks, then jammed over top. His kick-drum and kazoo and bongo rounded things out. I thought he was fantastic.
With only a few moment’s changeover Andersen got on stage. First impressions: my god, that is a huge man.
Second impressions: wow, that guy is an amazing guitarist and singer. He sits and plays his acoustic six-string alone, with no other accompaniment. There are no effects pedals or backing tracks, just his fretwork frenzy and his massive blues howl. The songs are, to be fair, pretty ordinary, both lyrically and melodically. But the power of the voice from the man, who must be 180 kg, and the speed and passion from the fingers on the strings, are pretty damn impressive.
We’re going to go see Hay and Andersen again next weekend when they play at the Beaches Hotel in Thirroul down the coast. Thanks, mom!
I went to a live show of Aussie funny music TV quiz show RocKwiz on Friday night, at Sydney’s State Theatre. It was hilarious.
When I bought the tickets I’d assumed that it was a taping for a Christmas show, but it turns out that it was just a live show, done in a similar style to the TV programme, but all around Australia at this time of year.
It was just as silly, irreverent, music-geeky, Julia Zemiro-hot as the show. They randomly selected quizzers from the crowd (not me, dammit), interspersed the show with musical acts by artists whom I didn’t know (but who were good), and had lots of funny jokes and banter from Julia and Brian Nankervis. They wound up with some hilarious folks from the crowd (once they’d weeded out the drunks) who not only knew their music facts, but weren’t afraid to have a laugh or to throw down some karaoke.
The one exception to the “who is this performer, anyway?” rule was Jon English, who belted out some bits from Jesus Christ Superstar, and was very funny on the quiz panel.
RocKwiz takes music seriously, but it isn’t at all serious about doing so. That results in a great night for like-minded people. Like me.
Rebecca Barnard, Shellie Morris, Jon English, Julia Zemiro, Ross Wilson. Photo from jeaneeem via Creative Commons license
