review by rox-teddy
So bad it’s coming soon to JJJ.
Due to the astonishing lack of advertisements shown before Friday night’s 6.40pm screening of Spy Kids at Village (only 5 minutes!), I, unfortunately, arrived to said evening’s Dido(!) show to the sounds of Hamish.
Fighting off roving gangs of suburban scrubbers, escaping the clutches of 30-something couples out on a ‘special night’, and politely declining the opportunity to buy a scalped ticket from a noted Melbourne music-critic (have a guess); entry to the Forum was greated by a duo who must be duking it out with Oscillate for worst electronic act on Rubber’s godawful roster.
Greeted by a handsome young girl handing out promotional stickers saying: ‘they’re of Hamish, the band that’s playing at the moment’, you could feel the BMG promotional machine start to lurch into priority-artist gear.
Why they’d bother with Hamish – band? person? – the outing for that bloke from Cordrazine, is a question for the ages. Shockingly bad beats, whooshing keyboard blasts, and factory-fresh special-effects pre-sets laid a lame electronic bed for the little pink toad to croak out his familiar Buckleyesque vocal flutterings.
In trying to describe something as bad as Hamish, one suddenly realises the futility of the written word. I mean, this was a sensory experience. It wasn’t just shit music; you swore there was a faecal aroma in the air, and the tunes inspired visions that conjured so many tones of brown.
“and politely declining the opportunity to buy a scalped ticket from a noted Melbourne music-critic (have a guess)”
Ha! Nice try. There are, of course, no noted Melbourne music critics.
So what was Dido like?