Just kicked in from a Kombat Fudge gig featuring Tombstone Pete. Whenever I watch a band I try and remind myself that it’s supposed to be fun, a lifestyle as conducive to neurosis as mine comes with its challenges. I remember how losing myself to music used to be easy, but with my twenties dwindling and my moves starting to look a little dated I must face the reality that things are different now. To put it another way, I’m dying.
That’s probably why I loved this gig, all I needed to do was sit in a comfortable chair and drink whiskey while the unplugged goodness washed over my apathetic bloated suburban carcass.
Tombstone Pete played first, a balding ponytail enthusiast that looks like my dad trapped in a 29 year old body. Watching him stand on stage, hoisting his guitar strap over his head I quickly came to the conclusion that there’s very little aesthetic pleasure involved in his act. My shallowness got slapfucked to the ground the second he touched those guitar strings. He blew me away, like a percussive acoustic hybrid super Jesus destined to save the world from ordinary.
It’s difficult to explain but his high energy performance feels like watching a threesome performed by one person, his hands find places to tap, pluck and bend that makes even the places seem surprised. If you haven’t seen him perform, make the effort, he’s a goddamn ninja. (Find him here: Twitter and Facebook).
The main event- Kombat Fudge, mounted the stage in acoustic mode. A three piece outfit, Zac Vincent on guitars and vocals, Peter Murray on bass and vocals, and Sebastian Cooper on drums.
They remind me of a high octane, funkier version of the Dandy Warhols sprinkled with tastier falsetto (offered by Murray) and perhaps more facial hair.
You can download some of their music here, mahala.
Tombstone Pete has a logo with the letters TP on it, so essentially I spent my evening watching TP and Kombat Fudge perform. You can make you own jokes there but I’m off to wash my hands.
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