9pm | Mt Eden Scout Hall: Utter chaos.
I heard the wailing guitars and the manic drumming long before I reached the hall. After easing my way through the mob of youngsters loitering outside, I eventually made it to the door and pulled out the 10 dollar note from my jacket pocket. The guy sitting there stashed it in a little safe, scrawled something on his paper and marked my hand with a sharpie. I was in.
(Photos credit to Theo Richards Photography)
Joe Says No were at the front with their instruments, unleashing their high-energy music upon the vivacious crowd of youths. It was loud. It was outrageously energetic. And there was no way to escape the tide of raving teens. I was pulled into the torrent without much consent, and thrown around like a ragdoll. Sweat splashed from the tips of hair; feet stamping, bodies crashing into each other. The rock’n’roll continued to pound at the people and the old wooden scout hall for what seemed like hours. There was no respite, as even after the band finished one song, they immediately launched into the next one without a breathe between. It was mayhem!
And they were the first band…
As the next band started setting up, I milled around outside in my now sweaty shirt, trying to socialise. It was a cool crowd of kids, all between the ages of 16 and 18, gathering for thrashy live music and a place to sneakily drink alcohol and party. Most importantly, it was a place where young bands could play live shows to a crowd hungry for rock n roll.
It was the Auckland Underage gig scene, something I had no idea existed before my first gig at the Mt Eden Scout Hall in mid 2014. Now I was going to all the shows around town - Mt Eden scout Hall, the UFO out in New Lynn, the Auckland Old Folks Association, to name a few venues - and seeing as many bands as I could. There were so many young bands: Desperate Models, Fields, Charlie Freak, The Moots, Open, Host Club, Bynx, Altered Blondes, Rackets, Mucus Kids, Indotestudo, The Paradise Stone, Joe Says No, the list goes on. Every show we went to was better than the last. There was more fire-power, more people, more antics that couldn’t even be recounted here in written word. We seemed to discover the scene as it was growing ever more potent and powerful, and rode with it right to its zenith.
The whole time, I couldn’t help but want to be a part of it myself.
—— —- — —- ——-
May 2015, behind the ‘Auckland Old Folks Ass’.
“We’re starting a band,” Tom told us. Despite the sincere look in his eye, I couldn't tell if he was just joking or actually being serious - I never could. Toby and I exchanged a glance. It seemed right though, the 3 of us, in a band together. We had been jamming in the music room all throughout high school, mucking about on instruments, and even playing live shows in the courtyard at school. Tom was in Indotestudo with Olli and Milan - also from the music-room gang - but they had since stopped as a band, and Tommy was eager to start the next crew of instrument wielding punks. He had tasted the gigging life, and was quickly addicted. I always knew he was a born performer - he will surely go crazy without playing live music. Toby and I agreed - we would start a band. It was exciting.
But there was a problem. Tom was to be the guitarist and vocalist - that much was certain. But both Toby and I played the drums, and neither of us played bass. If I was going to be in a band, I wanted to be behind the drum kit. I had played drums in bands with Tommy before, and it was always an absolute blast. But if the band was going to work with the 3 of us, it had to be Toby behind the drums. He is a drummer at heart, and a damn good one too, whereas my primary instrument is really the keyboard.
In the weeks leading up to our first practice, I tossed it all up in my mind, wondering how the band was going to work. From the recesses of my dusty cupboard, I pulled out my Korg R3 Synthesizer - a black beast with flashing red buttons. It looked somewhat unloved, and it was. I had purchased it for the odd occasion of joining Indotestudo on a road trip to Levin, to record some music as a one-off synth player for their band. And I had never touched it since. I looked it over disdainfully, picturing myself trying to look cool at the Mt Eden Scout hall with this confusing piece of junk. I gave it a little shake. I guess this will have to do… But if I’m playing the synth, who will play bass???
We gathered in Toby’s bedroom. He was lucky enough to have a hideout to himself, suited with a drum kit and a few amplifiers. It was the perfect place for us to practice - we wouldn’t face too much trouble thrashing loud music here, hidden behind the Mt Albert shops. Tommy got busy plugging in leads, and Toby fiddled about with his drum cymbals. I sat in front of my synth befuddled, pressing some buttons and trying to make sense of it. Unsatisfied with the sound I had, we launched into some jamming. Tommy pulled out some riffs he had up his sleeve, and Toby picked up the rhythm pretty quickly. I stabbed along with a bleary synth tone that sounded so offensive to my ears I wanted to cringe. I pressed another button and tried a different sound as the other two continued making a racket. This one sounded like a screaming alien.
For the 30 minutes of jamming, Tom and Toby felt enthusiastic. But I still didn’t know what I was doing. What I was playing sounded stupid, and just didn’t work. We took a break; bought some beers, got a bite from the Mt Albert takeout, and then came back to it. I was keen on making it work, so I started fiddling around with some more settings. The Synthesiser is nothing like the piano! Stupid thing…
I had finally found an easy going synth tone that I liked, and joined into the jam, playing some notes. Then, as Toby ran down to grab a beer from the fridge, I noticed that the button on the far left was an octave button. I pressed it orange, then I pressed it red. When I hit a note, the entire room SHOOK under the fury of a RUTHLESS bass tone. Toby mounted the stairs, beer in hand, eyes wide. Tom stared down at the synth in shock, as if insulted by that furious bass. I slammed another key down, and the room trembled. I had found it - I had found my sound! No shit.. I'm the bass player! That was the moment that SHEEP was born.
“We are the Modern Philosophers..” Tom told the dudes at entrance of UFO. They signalled us in, and we made our way inside, storing our gear at the back of the stage. Tom had booked us our first gig only 2 weeks after our first practice, so we were pressured to write a bunch of songs quickly and come up with a name for the new band. The Modern Philosophers was agreed upon… although with strained enthusiasm. We took to the stage with our handful of new songs, testing the waters with a small crowd that looked to be into it. It was fun - we had quite a big sound for a 3-piece band, and enough energy to keep the crowd buzzing.
The folks who showed up liked it! One of our gigging buddies, Ethan 'Jesus' Roberts, commented on our original sound - he was a big fan of Tom and Indotestudo. “Bro, I Iike the Synth bass,” he started telling me, a drunken slur in his voice. “When I saw you guys setting up, I was like ‘what the ****, where is the bass player?’ But then you pull out the meatiest bass tone I’ve heard! It was dooope ..” I was surprised by the compliment. He was right! I guess it was quite strange to see the bass coming from a synth... It seemed as though I had found my own little unique thing in this scene. Playing the bass role on a synth was actually way more fun than I ever anticipated. It allowed me to compose bass parts to Tom’s songs that were somewhat different to what a bass guitar could do - the medium of keyboard offers a few extra flavours. And it rumbled just as fervently if not more so than a regular bass guitar. I guess we had an original sound, and we were ready to take to the Auckland Underage Gig Scene! … but maybe with a new name.
Over the course of the next 5 months, we burst our way into the scene with unrelenting grittiness and energy, playing as many gigs around town as we could, under our new band name, SHEEP.
We brought our noise-storm to all the underage gig venues, playing a wide range of shows from the North Shore, to New Lynn, to right in the heart of Auckland city - Ellen Melville Hall. We already knew the guys who were organising shows - heck, Tom was one of them, so it was easy to get gigs. Recognising the small window of time we were allowed for our shows (usually about 45 minutes), all three of us took to each opportunity with vigour, unleashing enough fire-power to blow the roof every time, or at least pound at it mercilessly with our aggressively loud garage punk. My favourite part about every show was whipping out my Korg R3 BEAST, and having to find a makeshift stand to prop it on, improvising with whatever the venue had lying around. On a few occasions, there was nothing, and I instead played it like a keytar, standing there throwing my head back and forth and hoping the power chord didn’t get ripped out of its socket. It did, quite regularly actually. It was a serious problem I always faced.
The power socket and its cable were feeble and hopeless, to be honest. I think I accidentally wrecked it during one of our first shows. When we set about recording our first EP in Toby’s den, I had to wrap it up in swathes of tape to secure it in place, and even still it was knocked out. We went back and forth, attempting to record the bass parts of the song, only to have it cut short at a crucial point of the track. I tried to not let it impinge on the process of recording an EP, though.
I’d never been involved in such a project before, and it was interesting to see our chaotic set of songs be groomed and compiled onto a CD. We called it BACKSLAM! (another one of Tom’s spontaneous naming decisions..) Tom worked tirelessly to record his guitar and vocals, chop it all up, mix it, master it… Toby kindly offered his room as our recording space, and designed the cover art. How did I contribute?
Bass.
Just bass.
That is all.
————————
10.30 Pm | Ellen Melville Hall, Sheep EP Release Show
We were the 3rd band on. Just after Joe Says No. They got the crowd all fired up and crazed, ready for another rampage of punk. We started grabbing our gear and setting up amidst the people still lingering about in the small, cramped room. We had a choice of the big room or the little room. We chose the latter - shit gets wild in smaller spaces. Moments before we launched our set, I grimaced at the power chord cocooned in tape. It better no come out...
Once we were all set up, Tom signalled at me, and I quickly leapt to the bass amp, turning the volume knob to its extreme.
We pulled out our heaviest hitter first: Anatomy. I threw my fingers to the keys. BAA BO BO BAA BO BO BAA BO BO BAA, the bass amp rumbled. The swarms of people outside were heralded into the room upon that pumping bass, stamping up the stairs and flooding the small space as if rioting. Toby took that bass and drove it harder and faster with his wild drumming. Tom flailed about the stage, tapping into his infinite source of energy, and then leapt at the mic, shredding his guitar simultaneously. ‘ANATOMMMAAAYYY! He screamed. ‘ANATOMMAAYYYY!!!!’
(Photos credit to Ryan Brand Creative)
The next hour was a chaotic blur. The room was a hive of sweaty bodies, crashing too and fro like waves against rock. We slammed them with one banger after another, each one progressively more aggressive, more intense. I attacked my synth, and it shook hard. FUCK that power chord better not come out!!! I couldn’t let up the energy, the pace. Bass is a MONSTER! If it cut out…
Tom dived into the throb of people, guitar slinging about. Toby thrashed on the drums, hair whipping left right and centre, facial expression speaking volume. Spurred by the moment, I grabbed my synth, jumping up and pulling out the one trick up my sleeve: playing it like a keytar. The instant I did, the red LED’s that illuminate the synth to life cut off, and the bass stopped. It was just the drums and guitar droning on, without the backbone. SHIT!! I pulled back, and tried frantically to shimmy the chord back into place. Tom and Toby powered on, bass-less. It sounded hollow. Come on.. come on! I shook the tape violently, rocking it… Nothing. I quickly glanced at the crowd - they looked less animated. Fuck the tape! I unwrapped it, quickly, and shoved it to the side. Plugging the chord in tapeless.. and the lights flashed red again! The bass was back alive.
We hammered through another few tracks, and the crowd was out of control. It was the most insane gig we ever played.
I stumbled out into the courtyard afterwards, the cool air slamming against my soaking shirt. For a minute, I was so relieved to be breathing fresh air again, that I barely noticed what was erupting all around me. It was absolutely mayhem. Drunk teens were everywhere. Bottles of beer and wine littered the square. The water fountain was a snow white monstrosity of foam, growing ever larger, with people frolicking about in the bubbly disaster. Some kids rolled around on the ground; others stood chatting and observing the chaos. Five policemen suddenly appeared out of nowhere, tanked and looking ready for a raid. They rushed up the stairs, and I followed, eager to know the extent of the trouble we were in.
The kitchenette was smoked out, and smelling suspiciously funky. The cops ignored it completely and went straight for the small room.
Sizing up, bold as a door frame, the main cop marched right into the centre of the room and looked around with a grumpy look on his face. We were done... They were smoking weed in the kitchenette... There were drunk kids outside for crying out loud. I saw Tom in the corner conversing with some fellow, mirth slipping from his face at the sight of the cops. I slunk into the other corner, behind the police. We had caused this mess... SHEEP had caused it all, but it was fuckin' worth it!
“WHO’S IN CHARGE OF THIS PARTY?”
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