Sjock Festival
Gierle, July 10-11, 2004.
Gimmie Suicide Wok and Wooooooll !!!
Throughout its existence, the Sjock Festival has never been guilty of half-assed
efforts, and this 29th edition wasn’t any different. Since the early
days they have proven to have a good nose for upcoming talent - by having
Monster Magnet play in 1992 and Radiohead in 1993, for instance - but the
festival has steadily shifted towards louder rock ‘n’ roll –
with a stress on punk in the late ‘90’s and all things noisy in
the ‘00’s – while a second stage (suitably called the “Titty
Twister”) has already become a sort of festival in the festival,
with a stress on rockabilly and surf music. All that makes Sjock a particularly
colourful happening – you have mohawks and greasy ducktails, old school
hard-rockers and teenagers in baggy pants, hardcore punkers and kitschy girls
– that oozes out a laidback atmosphere with affordable prices and a
good organisation that’s found a fine balance between the grotesque
mega-festivals (Werchter, Pukkelpop, Graspop, etc) and the humble beginnings
of just one stage and a handful of bands. There’s always live music,
but you won’t have to choose between six stages and it’s only
a short walk to the beer stand. Fortunately.
(I didn’t manage to catch all the performances (a few talks here and there and some visits to the toilets prevented that) – my apologies to The Baboons, Kaiser Bill’s Batmen, the Slipmates and Boppin’ Steve & the Playtones – but I bet you’re really waiting to read what I thought of the rest of them.)
July 10th
However,
I felt less fortunate during the set of opening act The Heartaches.
They’re Belgian and they’re regarded as our “street punk”
hope in anxious days. Well, I must say that, if our lives depended on these
guys, I’d immediately surrender, because their act didn’t really
convince anyone, apart from the punks, friends, acquaintances, nephews, nieces,
uncles, neighbours and dogs in the front rows. What we heard was a raw merger
of the original working class punk rage (think U.K. Subs, think Stiff Little
Fingers), idealism (The Clash) and the modern touch of, say, Rancid. With
their semi-phoney British accents and slogan-esque slant (one song was called
“Democracy Is Dead,” another one was “anti-Fascist”),
they were somewhat of an anachronism, while the earnestness (at least Jello
Biafra had some biting sarcasm in store) and even the outfits (the bonnet,
the Sid & Nancy-shirt … nailed down to a T!) were a bit
too much as well. However, the major problem wasn’t anything of that,
it was just that they didn’t really offer a punch. The indignation
and rage were probably from the heart, but they weren’t backed up by
a consistent batch of songs or by an intensity that could’ve made up
for the lack of that. If The Heartaches perhaps need to tidy up their act
a bit, *** Melltown still has a long, long way to go. Apart
from the fact that they’re local heroes (at least the parents will claim
they’re “good boys”), they didn’t really fit in, as
their brand of screechy hardcore suggests they perhaps should consider changing
their name into Monotony. I guess it’s not their mistake, though,
as they’ve only chosen a direction that I’m personally fed up
with. Undecipherable, warbling vocals, metronome drumming and a guitar with
an annoyingly thin sound – it all seems to be a part of today’s
hardcore; oh, how I long for the days when Bad Brains, Black Flag & Co.
were around and delivered exciting shows that proved they could write, play,
offer diverse stuff and deliver the goods. Nowadays, intensity equals screaming
the same tuneless line over and over again over a racket that’s as fascinating
as Pink’s oeuvre. So again, all the standard moves were there (including
the classic hardcore pose – I swear, if I ever see that again, I’m
gonna break somebody’s arm), yet the band didn’t rock, swing,
pack a punch or impress. If these adolescents continue in this direction and
work really hard, they might become somewhat of a respected band in the genre,
but unless they get rid of all the Agnostic Front/Stigmata/Sick of It All-records
and promise me to never do it again, I don’t wanna hear ‘em
a second time. Unless I get paid lots of money, that is. 
***
On with The Bones, a Swedish gang of bratty rascals who called
their website www.bonesrocknroll.com
(now that’s what I call self-confidence), released stuff that
was called “Bigger Than Jesus” and “Screwed, Blued &
Tattooed,” and go by the names of Spooky Fred, Boner and Beef Bonanza.
You know what to expect, right? In case you didn’t: call it sideburn-rock,
punk ‘n’ roll, second hand crap or just rock ‘n’ roll
– a fairly straightforward merger of punk velocity, hard rock finesse
and about everything in between. Nothing new, nothing particularly exciting
– the Supersuckers are still the kings of that game –
but delivered with lots of energy and pose, which makes up for the lack of
truly good songs. Despite a few technical problems and a rather weak sound
during the first few songs, they managed to improve as the set went on and
delivered some jolly good bits (“Fill Me Up with Booze” being
their usual shtick) that were enthusiastically received by the audience, half
of which seemed to wear a Bones t-shirt. You might say they had the best audience,
as their set became an excuse for two dozen people to jump on stage and show
off their dicks, ass or boobs - pretty over the top, but fitting the nearly
cartoonish music perfectly. Ain’t rock ‘n’ roll grand?
*** Hubcap had barely recovered from a gig two hours
earlier when they stepped on the Titty Twister stage and probably delivered
their most rock-oriented set I’ve seen so far. Compared to the antics
of several other bands, Hubcap sounded really well-mannered – no songs
about tits, smack and cars from these guys! - yet they kicked their 35-minute
set off energetically and were helped by Divine Intervention when the sudden
rain caused everyone to hide in the tent. Encouraged by the noise (drummer
Ryan Cady hit those skins twice as hard than usual) and the hum of the people
(allegedly the largest audience they’d ever played for), they tore through
damn fine versions of the jagged “Chloroform,” Americana-classic
“Two Bits + Shirtless on Main St” and a few songs from their upcoming
album. By the time they’d gotten to their hard-rockin’ take on
“Mansion on the Hill” – exactly what all the retro-rockers
had been waiting for – the audience had become quite impressed by the
first American band to play the festival. The band closed the set with “Wish,”
a muddy version of “Bullfights on Acid” and should-be-single
“Perfect.” Their gig didn’t offer a portrait as diverse
as their previous gigs I saw, but given the brief length of the set (35 minutes)
and the circumstances 
(Sjock
ain’t exactly a bluegrass festival), I’d say they did exactly
what was best. *** Japanese comedy act Electric Eel Shock
were preceded by quite a buzz – some people apparently called them the
most exciting live band in years – and while they didn’t exactly
live up to that, they were definitely something special. It’s not that
hard to describe their sound – they’re basically a power trio
that incorporates everything from crunching AC/DC grooves, Sabbath heaviness
and Van Halen-styled hammering to Judas Priest’s extravaganza, Spinal
Tap’s silliness, punk’s energy, Muppet Show lunacy, MC5’s
Messianism, the Stooges’ relentlessness and a whole lotta over the top
kitsch. Their songs themselves didn’t seem particularly interesting,
but it’s the way they present them that makes them quite a blast. Making
the “devil’s horns”-sign about 30 times a song, running
up and down the stage, yelling “GIMME SUICIDE WOK AND WOLL!”
over and over again… Jesus. You don’t really know whether
you can or should take them seriously, but that’s just the
way they like it, as they know how to exploit their image like few other bands
before… 
unfortunately,
I didn’t see the drummer pull his most famous trick – swallow
a drum stick and play the drums with his penis, but they were fun nonetheless.
Now that we’re talking about penises… *** The O’Haras
delivered a damn fine set of their Mariachi-flavoured European-style Surf
Instrumentals – imagine Dick Dale gone Mexican or Herb
Alpert backed by an instrumental version of the early Dead Kennedys. Lots
of fun, lots of sweat, fine stuff! *** For a band that has only been together
for a mere two years, the Street Dogs attracted quite a crowd,
but that’s not surprising since all the members seem to have experience
with other bands, ranging from Boston’s folk-punk pride the Dropkick
Murphys to the lesser-known Bruisers.
As for the music, it shares one and another with the Murphys’ blue collar-punk,
except that it comes without the bagpipes and mandolin and revamped traditionals.
Instead, you get honest, hard-rocking punk rock that probably comes close
to what The Heartaches had in mind when they took up their guitars. Nothing
fancy, nothing amazing, but delivered with style and balls. *** Saturday’s
winners were probably The Mean Devils and that’s quite
a feat for a Portuguese rockabilly band. Of course, it’s something entirely
different than your average contemporary nu-metal band, but they delivered
this stuff with so much energy, sizzling guitar solos and hard swing that
even the toughest street punk will submit to shakin’ his/her ass. A
four-piece that kicked out the jams with a style reminiscent of Belgium’s
Seatsniffers as well as Californian heroes 
The
Paladins, they needed about 30 seconds to convince the audience of
their quality and tore through their catalogue with a ferocity that was almost
stunning and probably received the wildest applause of the entire weekend.
*** If there’s a reason why The Flaming Sideburns closed
the first day, it’s not because of their reputation – to my knowledge,
they’re not that popular even though they did a split-EP with
The Hellacopters – but because of their particular style, which is ready-made
for arena-sized venues. A rock ‘n’ roll band in the purest sense
of the term, they deliver all the excess that a mainstream rock fan can still
dig and enough dirt to satisfy those who want their stuff to kick some ass.
The light show was extravagant, singer Jorge Martinez (an Argentinian in a
Finnish band) strutted over the stage caterwauling like a bitch in heat, wearing
a glittering, purple shirt and basically thought he was the sexiest
motherfucker to walk the earth. The problem is, he isn’t, and he’s
neither a great vocalist. The band played with a lot of energy and offered
a spicy blend of proto-punk, ‘70’s rock and glam, but they didn’t
keep up the momentum as their rock ‘n’ roll started to become
stale after 20 minutes. BLERGH.
July 11th
Day
Two started off much, much more promising, with The Killbots
who kicked off their set with “Shake Your Steak” (guess what it’s
about!), basically a twofer, as the first part consists of a blues-boogie
and the second of a stretched out, heroic instrumental thing that’s
usually one of the highlights during their gigs. Their sound was better than
most and they’re luckily not afraid to admit they basically wanna have
a lot of fun and sing about women and cars. The guitar players traded off
greasy riffs, squeezed messy solos out of their instruments and roared their
refined poetry with the finesse of a deluded elephant, while the rock-solid
rhythm section (two guys who couldn’t be more dissimilar) keep
things rockin’ as hell. Despite the early hour and the lousy weather,
they managed to keep their set about twice as interesting as that of the Sideburns
12 hours earlier, but the icing on the cake came – as usual –
with the appropriately-titled “Tantra,” a long drone, during which
no less than five guitar players (two guests with the bass player
switching to guitar as well) lay down a racket that simply overwhelming and
guaranteed to keep those head moving in the right directions.
In short: they confirmed they’re worth the buzz, so let’s keep
our eyes open for what’s next. *** El Guapo Stuntteam
have been around for a while, and that’s noticeable, as they already
got the attitude and stage antics (including lame jokes) The Killbots are
still acquiring. However, whereas the first band churns out a bear-soaked
cocktail of hard rock, blues-rock and stoner, El Guapo are strictly a hard
rock band. Fortunately, they’re a good one, as nearly all of their songs
are testosterone-fueled, energetic updates of ‘70’s and ‘80’s
excess: guitar solos galore, head-bangin’, a cocky pose and lots of
showmanship (with 6th member Captain Catastrophy setting himself on fire in
the beginning of the show). Nothing innovating of course, but street rock
can be exciting when it’s done with conviction (and yes, like the Killbots,
they would’ve blown away The Heartaches, Melltown and probably
also The Bones). Only annoyance: they have a triple-guitar line-up, but somehow
it sounded as if only one guitar was allowed to go in the red, with one other
providing some extra foundation. *** More refinement came with Speedealer,
basically an early warm-up for the scum-punk of Zeke. Like that band, Speedealer
concocts a smelly blend of metal and punk, blood and guts, and preferably
at a deafening volume. Although the first few songs of their set were nearly
completely ruined by a shitty sound (I mean, turn those guitars UP, Mr.
Sound Guy!), they’d get better as the set progressed. While you
could argue that this kind of band wouldn’t exist without 
Motörhead,
the bass player and lead guitarist have obviously been listening a lot to
‘80’s speed and thrash metal as well: the songs were usually short
and furious, with rumbling drums and nearly screeched vocals, but during their
show, the sun came back again, so it had to be okay. Their last song was called
“Pigfucker” and believe me, it sounded just like a “Pigfucker”
should sound like. *** Something completely different with Fifty
Foot Combo, which has succeeded in creating one hell of a live reputation
for themselves and their show at Sjock was damn impressive. They’re
basically an instrumental retro-band, but their shtick is so much
more entertaining than your average rockabilly/surf-act. They not only employ
the sounds and trademarks from those genres, but add influences such as ‘60’s
thrash, vintage garage, cartoonish soundtracks, weddy party bands, schlager
and a whole lot of shameless kitsch as well. This may sound messy on paper,
but it’s quite a blast to witness how they deliver their exotic blend
(including tribal drumming) with the energy straight from punk. Instead of
pasting together all their influences, they manage to incorporate all the
elements into a coherent and original melting pot that’s rocking and
nearly the ultimate party music. These guys (and girl) know how to
play and they play hard and their love of the game blasted from the
speakers. 
Definitely
one of the more confident and convincing live acts around and undoubtedly
at the top of their genre in Belgium… but you’d have a hard time
getting this quality abroad as well. *** Raging Slab didn’t
exactly reach the level of their previous gig I attended two years ago. When
I saw them at the time, they churned out 90 minutes of kick-ass Southern rock
that hovered between the obvious classics (Lynyrd Skynyrd, Allman Bros, Molly
Hatchet, etc), while also incorporating a healthy (?) dose of heavy metal
thunder and boogie as well, but this time around they were decent-good, but
nothing more. Part of this can probably be blamed on the fact that they’d
been playing with a new drummer since a few days earlier, but they also had
their share of technical problems that clearly embarrassed singer/guitarist
Greg Strzemzka. However, the guy can play, delivers exquisite solos
without a pick, while also the rest of the band has been around for
long enough to keep things interesting. Alec Morton is, like, the unmoved
‘70’s bass player, while guitar player/vocalist Elyse Steinman
is, uh… wow! The visual aspect is already surprising –
Elyse is about 5’1” and plays on guitars that are in the shape
of the USA – but then she opens her mouth and you’ll hear an enormous,
raspy bellow that could come from Lemmy’s 48-year old brother –
I guess that’s the result of Jack Daniels and Lucky Strikes. 
Anyway,
the band tore through their past few albums – occasionally settling
for a bit too much plodding – with fine results (especially “The
Dealer” sounded great) and ended the set with CCR’s “Born
on the Bayou” and Mountain’s “Mississippi Queen,”
which made them sound like a Southern rock Nashville Pussy. *** Hétten
Dés (a.k.a Cowboys con Cojones) delivered an excellent
set, consisting of the finest hardcore country, vintage rockabilly and everything
in between. First, they remind you of the classic Rockabilly Trio with the
mighty Paul Burlison, next they take you back to Johnny Cash’s Sun
period (with a terrific take on “Cry, Cry, Cry”) done boom-chicka-boom-style.
They offered a swell alternation of original stuff and covers, which they’d
all turn into their own, whether it was Mike Ness’ “The Devil
in Miss Jones,” a raucous romp through Neil Diamond’s “Solitary
Man” and even Danzig’s “Thirteen,” but of course by
ways of Cash. Less obvious, but exactly what they’ve become quite famous
for in the meantime, is their countrified take on Motörhead’s “Ace
of Spades” that made you wonder whether it’s possible to their
the roof off of a tent. 
Though
much more country-oriented, Hétten Dés can join Fifty Foot Combo
in the league of Belgian bands that give retro-billy a good name.
Tops! *** … and for a while it seems that the retro-bands are
getting the best of the “noise” bands, as Dozer
didn’t seem to be at the top of their game either. The sound was also
pretty disappointing, as Tommi’s guitar didn’t get the power that
usually makes their sound so goddamn huge, and everybody knows Tommi’s,
like, da man in that band, so… He did have the usual energy
though, and those who’ve seen them before, know what I mean. Anyway,
despite a so-so sound (which got better throughout the set) and the confusion
of Fredrik Nordin – who at times didn’t seem to know whether he
was standing on a stage in Belgium or walking around in his living room in
Sweden - they played a convincing set, picking songs from their entire career,
as “Rising” from last year’s Call It Conspiracy
was followed by “Head for the Sun” from their split-EP with Unida
and “Riding the Machine” from Madre de Dios. 
Occasionally,
the songs were too stretched out (they only played nine songs), like during
“Feelgood Formula,” but their pumping, stoner-inflected hard rock
worked pretty impressive during most other songs, such as “Rings of
Saturn.” Still, I’d rather see these guys in a small venue, where
they can play their music ear-bleedingly loud and probably feel more at ease.
*** Contrary to what I expected, Zeke drew quite a crowd
and it didn’t take me long to realize why: I’ve heard a few of
their albums and while I usually feel like turning their punk mayhem off after
15 minutes (that’s at least 10 songs or so), but they’re one hell
of a stage act. You could say they’re trailer park version of Motörhead,
but faster. MUCH faster. Their show was basically a long barrage
of skull-breaking heavy and fast thrashers with unintelligible lyrics (usually
involving the finer things in life, such as drugs, beer, cars & pussy
– titles like “Let’s Get drugs,” “Bitch”
and “Eyes of Satan” give it all away), scorching riffs, grotesque
solos and an attitude to safe a continent with, but behind the façade
of carelessness and nihilism hides a band that knows damn well what it’s
doing. Variation? Nada. Oh well, I guess you could say that most
of their songs are a kind of hardcore punk with some thrash metal/hard rock
elements, some are 60 seconds long, other 120, but basically? No, it’s
the same old song repeated over and over again. Yet, from announcing the songs
(something like “Okheresthenextsongitsdedicatedtoallyoumotherfuckers-outtheregiveusacirclehereinfrontmotherfuckersandohyeahwealsowouldliketothankragingslab-andspeedealerandblablablablablabla…and
Dozer too!…onetwothreefour! and then launch into this hilariously
over the top racket), to the references to hard rock history (Led Zeppelin’s
“Heartbreaker,” The Who’s version of “Young Man’s
Blues”) and their dedication, it was obvious there was a stellar live
band at work. The crowd banged their heads, enjoyed the fine art of slam-dancin’
and worshipped the band as if they were this year’s Strokes. …And
the crowd is always right, everybody knows that. *** After Zeke’s barn-burning
noise, Jack Baymoore’s vintage rockabilly was incredibly
tame and old-fashioned, yet they played a great set as if you were beamed
to the late ‘50’s; to Johnny Burnette, fancy suits, cool microphones
and flashy gear. Highly professional and slick stuff in the style of Carl
Perkins, 
but
done very competently - the band played rockabilly as if post-1960
music never happened. *** Closing band The Nomads also played
at the Sjock Festival back in 1989. Nowadays, the name probably doesn’t
ring much of a bell anymore – at least not among youngsters who’ve
discovered new heroes such as The White Stripes, The Strokes and Jet –
but there used to be a time when The Nomads single-handedly triggered a new
wave of garage rock, both in their homeland Sweden as in the rest Europe.
Fed up with second-rate post-punk and the synth craze, they returned to the
age of the Stooges, early Rolling Stones and ‘60’s garage, to
churn out passionate, energetic rock ‘n’ roll. 20 years after
their first album, they’re no longer the trend-setting revivalists of
before, but still a competent live act. I was also pretty surprised that the
band played so many recent songs and that they worked pretty well. “You
Can’t Keep a Bad Man Down,” “Primordial Ooze,” “Crystal
Ball” and “Top Alcohol” are straightforward rock ‘n’
roll you just don’t hear that often anymore. It’s not flashy or
particularly heavy, but it’s pure rock, in the way the early
Stooges, the Heartbreakers, the Celibate Rifles or the Fleshtones play(ed)
it. It’s unadorned, un-pretentious rock ‘n’ roll, but I
happen to like that brand, and when they also came up with covers of Alex
Chilton’s “Bangkok” and The Dictators’ “16 Forever,”
the nostalgic in me was having a great time. Towards the end, it became obvious
they’re no longer the high-energy animals of 15 years ago, but they
could’ve done much worse, certainly after the “hunt and kill”-show
that Zeke’s performance was.
So, here you go, Guy’s Sjock Festival Top 5
Most entertaining gigs:
Zeke (unexpected scum-punk victory)
The Mean Devils (swing, dammit, swing!)
Hétten Dés (cowboys on acid!)
Fifty Foot Combo (Addams Family-madness)
The Killbots / Hubcap (no-nonsense performances)
Most attracting for deaf people:
Electric Eel Shock (wok and woooooooll!)
Fifty Foot Combo (a fluo-green guitar and hottie behind the keys do the
trick)
El Guapo Stuntteam (the fire!)
Zeke (ask Richter)
The Bones (mainly for the audience’s asses and boobs)
Disappointments
The Flaming Sideburns (next time, let them open the festival)
Raging Slab (just because they can do so much better)
Melltown (well…)
The smelly soft drink-cups (that lemonade smelled like shit - literally)
The Heartaches (this is no democracy!)
Read album reviews of similar or related artists: Hubcap - The Killbots