Radio Birman / The Hard On’s.
Manning Bar Sydney, 07/06/2024

After 50 years, it’s come to this – what is likely to be Radio Birdman’s final gig. A momentous occasion, and one more than worthy of comment. I’ve spoken long in the past about the effect they had on me, and if you ever want to kill a lot of time, ask me about them in person. If you’d rather not, and I can’t blame you, you could check out the new biography of them freshly released (Yes, I own it), a recent warts and all documentary and look up any number of stories of their volatility, both musical and personal. Their myth casts a long shadow to this day over the Sydney rock scene. Hell, even their logo is reminiscent of some sort of cult sigil, and they were once accused of Nazism by Red Symons. No, I’m not joking. But the songs are where it’s at. Aloha Steve and Danno changed my life and I’d wager I’ve spent more time air guitaring to that song than some people have spent hugging their loved ones.

The Manning Bar is packed, I think for the first time I’ve been their when that’s happened. To be fair, the whole tour was pretty much sold out, but it’s nice to see. The crowd is mostly comprised of various shades of grey and/or balding, as I am, but there’s patches of youth among them. I couldn’t help but notice the two guys in-front of me, who barely seemed to move. I get that you may not air guitar as openly or enthusiastically as I do, but how can you not be moved by this?

Opening were the Hard On’s, now fronted by Tim ‘You Am I’ Rogers, in full Iggy Pop/Bon Scott tribute mode. We get a set of what I presume to be new, or at least modern, material, with Rogers commenting on that after queries from the crowd. At one point I looked away for a few seconds, and when I looked back at the stage the entire band were now shirtless. Some band members managed it better than others is all I’ll say. I’m not exactly a fan, but they do their thing and do it well, with some of the banter being a highlight for me. They seem genuinely happy to be there, and in awe of the headliners, with the story that New Race being the first song they tried to play back in the day going over well.

I try to be supportive towards support bands, as it’s frequently a thankless task, but they aren’t doing it for me. Still, they go down well, and that’s a good thing. But I’m here for the headliners, them and them alone. Seeing them walk out onstage for likely the final time, singer Rob Younger bowing as he gets to the mic, it was emotional for me. Lead guitarist Deniz Tek is playing the Epiphone Crestwood guitar that used to belong to Fred ‘Sonic’ Smith of the MC5, which makes that guitar into a rock and roll equivalent of a piece of the True Cross. For those keeping track, Tek’s also an emergency surgeon and former US Navy aviator, who’s callsign was Iceman. Legend has it the Top Gun production crew visited the squadron he served with, which led Birdman associate Mark Sisto to later write to Rolling Stone magazine to say “You see, I know the real Iceman and Val Kilmer, you are no Deniz Tek.” Keyboardist Pip Hoyle’s all in black, which combined with the red tie he’s wearing makes him look like a pulp hero. I’ve no idea if the Spirit or Shadow ever moonlighted in rock bands, but he sure looks the part. I can’t not mention the rest of the band though, with Jim Dickson (bass), Nik Reith (drums) and Dave Kettley (guitar) firing on all cylinders. But it’s hard to take the eyes from Younger and Tek – Younger’s stage moves are as chaotic as always, while Tek’s intense façade breaks and he cracks a smile a couple of times during the show. It’s genuinely unsettling.

They open with Smith and Wesson Blues, and we’re off and racing. It’s functionally a greatest hits set, mixing material from the ‘classic’ albums (Radios Appear and Living Eyes) and a few from 2006’s Zeno Beach, with covers of Route 66 and the Velvet Underground’s Rock and Roll in the encore. It’s impossible to build a setlist that will please everyone, but this one bounces well between the faster and slower tracks – Alone in the Endzone, then Do the Pop or later on, a thundering version of Descent into the Maelstrom is followed by Man with Golden Helmet, at which point a slightly intoxicated seeming woman yells at me how it’s her favourite song. Also, it took a lot of restraint during Descent not to throw myself into the crowd. We’re packed in pretty tightly, so my air guitar reflex is restrained. My calves and hips over the other hand, ached for several days afterwards from toe tapping and beat keeping. I’d be curious to see what my brain activity is like during that song, but I couldn’t be lying down during the test.

Might be about the time I started to smell something in the crowd – could have been fresh paint from the graffiti tunnel I’d walked through, a curious ‘substance’ I’m unaware of or someone near me badly misjudged a fart. Mostly I was glad it didn’t appear to be me. The intro’s to Hand of Law and Monday Morning Gunk are extended, and both work beautifully – that bass rumble that begins Hand sounds all the more ominous being on repeat, and the way Gunk begins, with delicate picking that slowly ramps up speed, it’s just *chef kiss* Finally New Race kicks in, and a roar of cries of “Yeah Hup!” signify the end of the set. Mercifully, we get a few more songs after they come back. Murder City Nights goes down a treat, after which Tek says “We’re gonna do one more then we’re gonna get outta here”, and proceeds to thank management, crew and venue staff. At that point my hopes and prayers are answered as that drum pattern kicks in and we get Aloha Steve and Danno. I may have shed a tear or two as I cheered them goodbye, and I regret nothing.

I collect my thoughts, make sure the shirt I bought is still hanging in my belt and commence my journey home. It was a night for the ages. We will never see their likes again, and my nights are dark and empty when they’re not on TV. Book em Danno, Murder One!

PS: Apparently Albo, aka Prime Minister Anthony Albanese, was seen backstage.