Sunlight reflecting off the waves; skate punks with nothing to do; Californian melodies abrisk asunder.
Like a batch of raspberry muffins fresh from the stove, surf-punk, otherwise known as lazy stoner-bred hipsterdom, has always been a somewhat uninspiring and vague aesthetic that is coloured by occasional stabs of aggression and chaos.
As far as staying true to his gospel though, Wavves frontman Nathan Williams is about as authentic as they come. Having recorded his group’s first two albums literally in his parents’ basement; the sound bounced off the walls to provide such a natural weatherstorm of reverb and distortion that it may as well have been recorded in the gutter. Either way, Williams had mastered the craft of self-promotion, distribution and production to an admirable degree – somewhat taking on the guttersnipe punk aesthetic that contemporaries of the genre so wilfully slam over our head to dismal persuasion.
Detractors of the band often refer to Williams and the crux of Wavves music as the work of a gormless, lazy idiot with nothing better to do. Whether that is the case or not doesn’t really matter. Two years ago, he was dismissed as an unprofessional brat after a drunken stupor in Spain on his band’s first world tour; under the influence of amphetamines and haplessly drunk, he could barely play through an entire song – three chords and all – pretty much regarding his audience as a clueless bunch of boneheads who didn’t really care what he had to do – in other words he was just being himself.
These days Williams plays through a set like he is inciting a riot at a house party, and his spirited disciples tend to follow suit. Strolling onto to the stage of Melbourne’s staple Corner Hotel – more of a permanent venue fixture than an actual pub of any sort – after a satisfying performance from blogosphere sweethearts Unknown Mortal Orchestra, the raucous folks in attendance pretty much know what to expect, but they’re all the more elated for it.
Kicking off with ‘King Of The Beach‘ favourite ‘Idiot’ which, well, like anything off else that pleasurably dumb summer-drenched LP is somewhat of a typical Wavves mantra; a few words repeated over and over to a whitewashed concoction of flurried guitars and steamrolling drums. This, of course, sends the restless pool of youth in the room to explode into a theatric frenzy – halfway between the pogoing stylings of Sid Vicious and the warm-spirited love affair of watching Jefferson Airplane at Woodstock; not quite ‘moshing’, to use the dreaded term, but a collective limb-throwing exercise tantamount to a group of overexcited babies in a coloured ball pit.
Turns out the first three songs are drawn from ‘King Of The Beach’, with ‘Super Soaker’ and the infectiously fantastic title track following. These are among the most well-received by the rapturous crows in attendance, but ‘Demon To Lean On’, one of the singles off their latest LP, arguably pips them on the performance scale; Williams’ gratingly sarcastic harmonies riding down the coattails of the guitars like an avalanche – more polished than any of the group’s earlier songs, but with all the loveable skate-punk conviction a Wavves fan could imagine.
Cuts from the ‘Life Suxx‘ EP and earlier self-released albums follow. Thankfully, the dreary ‘I Wanna Meet Dave Grohl’ doesn’t make an appearance, until the well-known ‘Post Acid’ surfaces a little later on. ‘Beat Me Up’ and ‘Paranoid’ from the recently released ‘Afraid Of Heights‘ are likewise welcome surprises that bluster forth through the crowd with polarizing force.
Kids in the Wavves demographic don’t seem to get tired or bored, the sweatier they are merely allows for smoother slippin’ and sliding through each other’s arms, each crowd surfer belatedly snaking and weaving through the chaos regardless of what song seems to be next. Tellingly, whether they all put a Wavves record on first thing in the morning is beside the point, it’s funner just being there, a party rooted and choreographed in sound and atmosphere than any kind of typical fan to artist devotion.
A Sonic Youth cover late in the set raises eyebrows, until another ‘King Of The Beach’ favourite, ‘Green Eyes,’ closes the show. Any detractors or folk who claim to be irritated by Wavves’ nothing-to-do-but-smoke-weed agenda clearly miss the point entirely; Williams could have been plucked from the very crowd he performs for, and they knowingly acknowledge this by offering a wellspring unity of appreciation and understanding in return.
They too are bored and love to be just as reckless and mindless with him – even for a moment so brief.