The Tivoli, Brisbane
Monday March 26, 2018 :
Prophets of Rage, the remnants of arguably the most politically charged rock n roll band of the modern era in Rage Against The Machine & (now) fronted by the similarly inclined hip hop pioneer Chuck D of Public Enemy fame paired to one of the more unique voices one can recall in B Real of Cypress Hill (all of whom were massively interwoven in the formative and hedonistic days of yours truly) were responsible for a show at the Tivoli in Brisbane on Monday night the likes of which is normally reserved for the intensity of mathcore.
Relocated to the Tivoli from the far larger outdoor venue the Riverstage, I have never seen the Tiv this packed nor is one ever likely to..The punters were oozing from the archways that lead into the main of the auditorium. The room was soaked in sweat and anticipation as local warmup Dead letter Circus blew out the live cobwebs after just recently emerging from a lengthy recording process.
Promising a new sound on the upcoming LP, the first taste was a determined departure from the infectious jangling that has become their signature and featured almost unchallenged across their previous four releases. The ever humble Kim Benzie on the mic at one point sharing his enthusiasm for the new wax by prefacing there were many in the crowd who may not “know who the fuck we are” bringing a smile to the many and the few accordingly as the group launched into easily the dirtiest track thus far from DLC.
Thirty minutes later and I’m in the pit shooting the Prophets DJ as he warms up the crowd with a masterful mashup of everything from Wutang to Sabbath, Metallica and Nirvana appearing to both hit the spot with the now fizzing crowd.
As Tim, Brad, Tom, Chuck and Co pour onto the stage the crowd erupts to the immediacy of ‘Prophets of Rage’, the song made famous by Public Enemy well over 2 decades prior. This was a signal of what was soon apparent, those of us hoping to witness the exceptional catalogues offered by the saturation of talent on hand would indeed be fulfilled.
The band were incredible, Tom Morello already recognised as one of the greats bounced around the stage like a 20 year old without missing a note. Taking split second opportunities to indulge the photographers with raucous poses and militant gesturing. After the 3rd track, photographers were herded from no mans land in front of the stage by one of the ‘Prophets’ BYO security personnel, complete with bandanna’d face and sunglasses presumably for effect. Everyone on stage seperate of the rhythm section appeared to be wired, the vocalists performed like men half their age as the veterans soaked up the atmosphere in what was later referred to by the guitar maestro as ‘the smallest show they had played in a looonnnggg time’.
On several occasions the talkative axeman made mention of his appreciation for the Brisbane crowd whom it has to be said were emphatic enough to meet expectations for any day of the week let alone a Monday. As the largely Rage based setlist both old and new drove the crowd to increasing heights of mania I retreated to the balcony for a birds eye view and some respite for my measurably gentler better half for whom this whole live rock caper is still relatively fresh.
Soon after we were treated to a morphing medley of hip hop history per ‘PE’ and ‘the Hill’ We were primed for the predictable shenanigans of ’90s anthem ‘Jump Around’ by House of Pain, it was at this point as I felt the balcony yielding at least a few inches underfoot with every synchronised bounce from the likely 300 people packed onto it I was beginning to question the wisdom of my chosen perch, although I wonder if those underneath pondered similarly. A powerhouse finish via ‘Bulls on Parade’ and of course genre defining ‘Killing in the Name’ led to more glowing review from Mr Morello whom to express his appreciation for ‘the best crowd of the tour’ tacked on the visceral ‘Bombtrack’ as a night cap.
Stunned faces atop drenched noir exiting the venue were absolute affirmation of the evenings engrossing nature. Prophets of Rage are not the cohesive alchemy of aggression once celebrated in a former life, yet rather they are an established amalgamation of consumate performers seasoned to perfection in the oven of experience and served up hot and heavy just like you would remember it if you could.
Reviewer + Photographer : Quenched
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