Review: The Saints ’73-’78 at Freo.Social
The Saints ’73-’78 at Freo.Social
w/ Chimers
Wednesday, November 20, 2024
Can it still be The Saints we know and love if they’re not fronted by the late Chris Bailey… let alone by an American singer?
Amidst the hubbub of The Saints’ return (and whether the current version, The Saints ’73-’78, led by Ed Kuepper, diminishes Bailey’s legacy, as his estate might argue), revisiting the first three records of the original Saints line-up raised a lot of questions about what version of the band we would be getting to see, some 47 years after their iconic breakthrough.
Could the current act be true to the original line-up, fuelled with the ferocity of young Brisbanians rallying against far-right Premier Joh Bjelke-Petersen’s police state? Would this nostalgia trip leave us only disappointed we never saw Ed & co in their prime? Is The Saints brand still relevant since its evolution beyond (I’m) Stranded, Eternally Yours, and Prehistoric Sounds—did Bailey’s version of The Saints post-Kuepper venture so far from the original intent that we’ve needed a reminder of what birthed punk and The Saints in the first place?
All that and more was answered at Freo.Social. In keeping with the long-awaited remastering of classic debut (I’m) Stranded, The Saints ’73-’78 was not quite a return or reimagining of these iconic legends, but a remastering of all that was crucial about their burst onto the international scene. In short, it ain’t The Saints, but that didn’t matter to the capacity crowd.
First up though were two-piece Chimers, a band “born from isolation—not geographically—but via the pandemic.” Padraic Skehan, with partner Binx on drums, identified themselves as from Wollongong (“If you like pokies, come visit”) before some throttling tunes that remind you of the amount of delicious noise just two people can make. Akin to Japandroids with a harnessed chemistry between the two, guitarist Skehan played and moved with a confidence fuelled by post-punk propulsion, the ‘“too fast” and “too slow” lyrics of Timber echoing the tension at play between the duo’s insistent forward momentum and grounded surrender. It’s always a treat to see punk in its humbling and authentic form, and it was a good lead-in to what Kuepper was to bring to the stage shortly after.
As a cowbell beckoned in the crowd with anticipation, Ed’s The Saints ’73-‘78 joined the stage with original bandmate Ivor Hay on drums, sunglasses-clad former Bad Seed Mick Harvey on guitar and keys, Sunnyboys bassist Peter Oxley, and Mark Arm of Mudhoney fame sneering into the mic with an Iggy-like drawl.
From the get, Kuepper’s frenetic speed and punk spirit were clear. Launching into This Perfect Day, the delight and energy projecting from this seminal Australian guitarist returning to his earliest material felt not only long overdue but much-needed. The Saints’ first three records were not only the beginning of this mainstay of Australian punk and rock history, but a la Wire’s first three releases, a rapid entry and succession that forged the international punk scene. By focusing entirely on these three albums and performing tracks not previously heard live before this tour, the depth and experimentation in The Saints’ early days couldn’t be denied.
While it possibly took until the sixth tune for the band to really settle in on the night—second tune Orstralia didn’t quite land its punch and the idling three-piece horn section in Every Day’s a Holiday…distracted from the punk revelry—by the time the gang got to Brisbane (Security City), the cacophony of this Prehistoric Sounds’ highlight swept the crowd into a fervour. We were treated with a healthy dose of anarchy and Rolling Stones vibes in Lost and Found, with Kuepper letting loose and bringing the crowd down, down, down into a muddy descent. Mick shined on keyboards for The Prisoner while centrepiece The Chameleon soared, cutting off suddenly to enter the urgency of No, Your Product: long-time mates Ed and Ivor communing at the drum stand by the tune’s end as they locked into their old rhythms, the rallying cry against conformity and being anyone else’s product clearly still pumping through their veins.
It may have been odd for convict rock tune Swing for the Crime to be muddied by Mark’s resigned American drawl (and the most indecipherable lyrics of the night), but it was well punctuated by the guest horns. Despite this, the internationalism of the punk project was again evident on the night, revealing that isolation (or being Stranded) is less an Australianism and more of what binds us together in punk spirit. Mark Arm has long hailed The Saints as one of his favourite bands, and it spoke to the original outfit’s global appeal and influence that a non-Australian could handle the mic so perfectly.
The late run towards the encore featured highly anticipated tracks Messin’ with the Kid and (I’m) Misunderstood before the gang all chimed in to revel in (I’m) Stranded and Know Your Product. As Ed thanked the audience, it’s hard to tell whose was the greater reward: Kuepper’s in relishing the chance to perform old favourites or the crowd’s in bearing witness. More treats were in store on their return, however: melodic All Times Through Paradise veered towards a sing-along, followed by an exuberantly youthful Erotic Neurotic. The capstone of the night though (and arguably best track all up), Nights in Venice delivered an epic ending.
True that while The Saints ’73-’78 ain’t The Saints, it’s fair to say the original early catalogue holds such a depth of pleasures and variety, between the raw edges and the soaring sublime, that no one could have said this revisiting was anything other than an essential display of The Saints’ origins.
CATHERINE LANDRO
Photos by Linda Dunjey
