Every once in a while, you see a gig that reaffirms your faith in rock 'n' roll and realigns dwindling expectations in the old bass-guitar-drums set-up. One that sets the bar up a notch again, back to what it once was. A gig that for 24 hours after feels like the best gig you've ever seen. Black Lips at the Roadhouse was one of those gigs.
Not that this was the best thing I'd ever seen on stage, but it threw into stark relief just how boring and stultifying most rock bands are live. Black Lips have been steadily cementing their status as a fierce, unpredictable live act for the past three years or so, with tales of inter-band kissing, members urinating into their own mouths and hardcore nudity. This kind of stuff is all sideshow though and it's the sheer garage punk thrill of seeing bands play loud, fast, infectious tunes that they've mastered. All the gross-out tricks in the world could neither add nor subtract from that.
We get lead guitarist Cole swapping spit with rhythm guitarist Ian, which is something you don't always see. What you see even less of these days though is a band as thrilling as Black Lips. There's an epiphany moment during the rocketing 'M.I.A.' when you look at all four members trading off on vocals, playing as hard and as rapidly as they can (Drummer, Joe, in particular looks like some fevered hybrid of Animal from The Muppets and an octopus) and you can't help but think “I love this band”, or even, “I want to be in this band”. Isn't that what rock 'n' roll is all about? They don't reinvent the wheel, but they've stuck some pretty bitching spokes on it.
http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2605&band=1728
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