LIVE REVIEW: VOLT JOLT + STREET SWEEPER AT THE GEM, 11/03/23
Image by Genevieve Cox
What is a girl to do on a deliciously tepid Saturday afternoon with a pair of new cowboy boots to break in, harbouring desires to day-drink and overall desperate to distract herself from the fact that for a myriad of reasons that were mainly financial, she did not follow the mass exodus of Melbournians to the various festivals scattered around the state? Attend a free gig at The Gem, naturally, where two explosive punk bands brought festival vibes straight to Wellington Street.
Volt Jolt, Ballarat-based baby-faced punks with enviable energy and enthusiasm, kicked off processings just after 4pm. The Gem is quickly becoming my favourite venue due to resounding warmth and funkiness and grunginess, a consistently diverse crowd, ever-flowing Bodriggy IPA on tap and the graffiti in the girl’s bathroom instructing us to ‘be gay, do crime.’
The object of my fascination this Saturday afternoon was a young family watching the gig. A young lad who couldn’t have been more than seven years old sat munching on hot chips in a delightfully blue button up, whilst his even younger brother donned impenetrable headphones - which my pal Gen surmised may have been supplied by the bar - and watched in wonder. It has to be the most inner northern way to raise children.
Volt Jolt’s opening track exhibited very ‘Fell in Love with a Girl’ by The White Stripes energy, paired with commendable hairography that my pal mentioned must be a very effective and energy-efficient way to dry one’s hair. The second track oozed with Master of Puppets-esque noise, as the quartet remained tight and unapologetic. The frontman was bearing it all, moving with alacrity and urgency, unafraid and electrified. One guitar solo prompted four audience members clad in flannel to raise their arms in the air. It was very spiritual.
Image by Genevieve Cox
I was in awe of Volt Jolt’s unstoppable and relentless performance; they did not let the small crowd dissuade them from unleashing it all. I leaned over to Gen, after downing the remainder of my pint, and expressed that surely there isn’t anything that typifies a punk lifestyle more than attending a punk gig on a balmy Saturday afternoon before 5pm. She nodded, eyes closed, smiling. I’m sure our Punk forefathers would also nod in agreement.
Their track ‘Hello Psycho’ was a winning performance, fast and strong and jangly, bangs and clangs. The song had a slight Rancid vibe; 90s punk rockers from Berkeley who are responsible for hits such as ‘Time Bomb’. The Gem’s ever present disco ball, ceaseless in its act of providing glimmering light, framed the awesome foursome.
We were then treated to ‘Inside Out’ and ‘Ice Cream,’ tracks featuring the always-welcomed cowbells. Punk demands our undivided attention, overflowing with power and passion, incessant and alive. Volt Jolt exemplified this characteristic of Punk; they left nothing out there. The second to last track was about everyone’s favourite talking point, a ‘God Damn Business Man’, which generated sing-alongs by a few gig-goers.
Image by Genevieve Cox
Volt Jolt exited by saluting a titan in the contemporary Australian punk scene; covering ‘Pub Feed’ by The Chats. The young fella who had previously - and appropriately - gorged himself on hot chips now sang along to this track with Mum. They pumped their fists in the air ever-so-gently, which was a golden thing to witness. She’s my new blueprint for a Cool Mum. I was immensely impressed with Volt Jolt. Keep your eyes and ears peeled for what they do next.
Street Sweeper then well and truly swept us off our feet. The crowd increased in size and the pints and scrumptious hot chips continued to flow. Street Sweeper launched into a track that emitted slight ‘Stand in Line’ by Midnight Oil vibes, or just the entire Head Injuries album. Devoted fans continued to chant the recurring lyric ‘falling out of love’, which I’m choosing to believe made the lead singer conclude the song with an exclamation of ‘right on!’
The lead singer - who looked passable as Frank Zappa - introduced himself to the audience in a self-effacing and humbling manner: ‘I’m drunk - and hungover!’ I mean, that’s the only appropriate way to reign in a long weekend, right?
‘Stuck in My Eye’ was prefaced as being a ‘love number’ and funnily enough, I drew comparisons to Everclear’s cherished love ballad ‘You Make Me Feel Like a Whore’, particularly evident through the lyrics ‘you, with your eyes so cool and blue…you treat me like a fool.’ I really did appreciate how the lead singer discussed their tracks, like a waiter would explain a degustation - ‘this next song is about cocaine’. The ode to cocaine featured hammering and rolling drums, a shimmering bass, and faint rockabilly vibes. I experienced a small urge to jive and twist.
The band’s only track released on Spotify - ‘Mama I Can’t Do No Time’ - was excellent live, throwing slight ‘Take a Long Line’ by The Angels vibes around The Gem’s densely packed space. They were crisp and polished and energised, despite the lead singer’s self-proclaimed inebriation. It was a wonderful and palatable combination of sound; the bass as a constant undercurrent, thrashing drums and downbeat drumming.
Image by Genevieve Cox
A cover introduced me to a new song, ‘My World at Night’ by The Limit, a nearly untraceable band from the late 1970s who I can’t locate any information about online, except for a newly released remastered album on Spotify which features a swell cover of an early Beatles track ‘Please Please Me.’
The band was happy to announce their cover of this track was a perfect crime. ‘We stole this from another band who can’t litigate us because they’re all dead!’ Something about a self-deprecating, jaded and cynical band just screams inner north - or punk in general.
The finale was a zesty track - 'Rolling Down’ - wherein they expressed in a chorus, all chirping in, their deep appreciation for our attendance - ‘you all could have left, but you didn’t!’
My usual post-gig reflections spurred some possibly delayed epiphanies - maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am constantly astounded by the wealth of occasionally unknown or not readily publicised talent in the music scene in our sprawling city. There are countless hard-working and frankly fucking brilliant bands who are willing to treat us to gorgeous sound waves for the low low price of the pint you buy open entry. Perhaps it was the two pints sitting pretty in my stomach, or end-of-week lethargy, or the deep thoughts that often flow following exposure to late afternoon Autumn sunshine, but I found myself to be a very happy Vegemite following this punchy Punk pairing at The Gem. A festival-less weekend never looked so good.
My good pal Gen, provider of witty quips and in possession of a talent for observation, snapped these photographs and jazzed them up. Big love. Yours truly can be spotted outside The Gem in an aqua dress in her natural habitat: two pints deep and struggling to hear someone on the phone.