Too drunk to focus, too hot to care

Freedom. It’s good for me, but not for you. That’s been the attitude of the inhabitants of this country (and the world) for the last, oh, three or so years, coincidentally. “You can have your freedom, but only if you do as you’re told.” The right to have autonomy over ourselves is now controlled by others, backed by a band of bed-wetting nosey Parkers who think they have the right to abuse and demean anyone they determine has a bit too much of the F word. Get back inside, muzzle yourself, take your meds and STFU.

We are Free, you are not.

What’s this got to do with music? Everything. Music brings people together, it feeds our souls, it brings joy to a world devoid of it, it sets us Free, if only for a couple of hours before we are sent crashing back into the cold reality of the slave system. When we heard that Ty Segall was bringing his latest collective of cohorts, flying under the Freedom banner, to our shores, we knew where we had to be. Not among the dank depression and self-important posturing of the corrupted capital, where greyness sits upon you and memories are too raw. We wanted real Freedom, replete with a relaxed attitude, a considerably smaller sample group and a sultry, steamy, sticky night. We got all three and more in Raglan.

The Yard is tucked away down another nondescript side street of this once-sleepy and groovy but increasingly tacky surf town, and is just small enough to ensure a shoulder-to-shoulder sweat-swapping experience. The huge electric floor fans struggled to offer any relief, and no-one seemed to care. I was almost like the old days. Even the bar prices had us second guessing. Two beers please. $11. No, I asked for two. Yes, $11 thanks. This is going to be a good night.

A thick, heavy rumble welcomed us into the throng, as Earth Tongue layed down a thick carpet of drums and heavily-effected guitar from a sort of reverse White Stripes, only good. The first track witnessed had us rubbing our hands together, wafting, wailing vocals offset by a gutteral growl from behind the kit. It had so many elements I thought they might just break out a periodic table at any moment. Two songs later I was bored. They only had a couple of tricks, but they knew how to perform them well enough. When the chants of worship or something about Satan, we hoped there was a big dose of creative irony, but it was enough for us.

A couple more Waikato Draughts please. You sure that’s for two?

The layout of The Yard means there is no backstage, nowhere for the band to hide, and only one way to the stage, nothing more than a riser at the end of the room. Ty and his faithful core of collaborators shuffled through a now heat-agitated audience ready to lap it all up. There was no tortuous build up or posturing, it was straight to the business end as they launched into Wave Goodbye, well recognised by what seemed to be a knowledgeable and certainly enthusiastic mix of young, old and everywhere in-between. It was soon followed by Whisper, a favourite staple of the Freedom Band’s set. The rest of the set was almost a Muggers performance, with the inclusion of Breakfast Eggs, Emotional Mugger / Leopard Priestess, and a stonking, swaggering Squealer Two. Of course, Alta and Harmonizer just about lifted the roof, with the appropriate And, Goodbye bringing the set to a close.

The air grew thicker and the throng tighter as the band tried to escape into the cooler night air. The layout of the room meant that they wouldn’t get far as the crowd made it difficult to flee without another song or two, as Ty and the boys quickly discussed their encore upon abandoning any attempt to find the exit. Pretty sure there was another Muggers track, but details are currently sketchy after two weeks of continuing our ultimate quest north for the missing Freedom and absent compassion of our fellow man. We were happy to find it, and the catalyst was once again music. You can’t take it from us, no matter how hard you try.