Oh shit, I just realised something. Surf punk rock, is the new sex. It will have you going berserk for more. It’s hot, pretty damn sweaty (if you’re doing it right),
and the air is FILLED with pheromones and adrenalised SPUNK.
(Pheromone: a chemical substance produced and released into the environment by an animal, affecting the behaviour or physiology of others of its species.) – Shit-yeah that’s a killer definition.
(Adrenalised: not sure, look it up, sounds good though) Which brings me to the pheromone of the night…
or as they like to call themselves:
Hailing out of shark lake city, West Aus, Mandurah. The boys are setting the country up for one giant “shoeey”, taking on one state at a time. I got the privilege to hang (have beers) with the fellas as they took on Gold coast’ “Sharkys Bar”- a music venue notorious for its wild nights and dark pitted grunge rooms. . .
It was the perfect recipe for the DOOGS to unleash their West Oz steeze and cook up some tasty “Tuna-sangas” on a “keen as mustard” crowd. (Ill let you digest that sentence…) The boys flew in town and I managed to snag their luggage list, I remember it looking something like this:
- some musical instruments
- Rusty tees
- and a F**** load of ENERGY!!!!
I think they were spewing because they forgot the condoms but I can definitely confirm that everything else on that list was well and truly within the confines of the carry on luggage. The day lit up. The Goldy bloody lit up and it’s always sunny here!!!
I legitimately saw a bloke putting on sunscreen and a Bunnings hat while swigging from his “seen a few days on the scaffold” water bottle. Just so you know, it was 11:47pm this incident had occurred and the DOOGS were in full hammer swinging mode, nailing the crowd with their 3 piece set and teen angst lyrics.
Before the show, the hang out (piss up) was with some of Aus’ finest bands,
(Radolescent, White Blanks and Pandamic.) Shit got weird and sometimes wonderful. There was a homemade “tradie earring”, involving Grudge (GD’s drummer) a rusty nail, and a little too happily swinging hammer from Radolescents Kurt.
One of the lads also found a cricket bat, then bang, someone threw a mango tin (beer) at him, instead of catching it, he did what any twenty something would do and had a good old Sir Donald Bradman spank at it. TONK. Sending that mango tin, to punk rock heaven. Beer cricket was born.
(Check out my vid and put those images together).
What swept me sideways and up to froth creek was the COMRADERY shown from band to band. EVERYONE was psyching on each other!
It was pure magic. The vibe created an atmosphere. The atmosphere filled the room faster than smoke fills a 17 year olds Nissan Pulsar parked outside the skatepark.
We had a hot box.
At one point, there was at least 20 people on stage rocking out, the crowd was bloody everywhere, screaming, sweating, thrashing with pure, unadulterated, JOY. And it was all brought on by that pheromone… that energy that was carefully put on the luggage list… ahh yes
THE GOOD DOOGS.
Thanks for a killer time.