bib and young fan at charity auction
by darryl beamish-froggart
photo by jenny taylor
bib pectin is one hell of a guy
loyal to his fans who shelled out 500 bucks a pop
he appeared last night at the sydney opera house in fine feckle
the opening act veteran oz rock band the crunch struggled against disinterest
the crowd were there to see bib and front man stephen kilbys monotone nasal
only seemed to inculcate a sense of estrangement
the band waded thru their 30 year career as if sleepwalking
the audience were happy when they played their last number n exeunt
for 20 minutes we tingled in anticipation
what would bib wear…?
how would it seem….?
would he look at any of us in the crowd and wink…?
eventually bibs signature the ride of the valkyries is heard
his band walk on
many cheers for gitto fropley on the drums returning after an
operation on his earlobes
fropley signals the intro to
one of bibs greatest songs
peter o’toole is my father
a song about freedom and ownership and disputed paternity
guitarists snog comely and gerard mewcuss hit their stride
trading riffs
their mullets weaving arabesques in the dazzling light show
bass player sammy lin astonishing the crowd with those amusing antics
yeah you know
the waddle the digging-a-ditch the evil naughty boogie
piano player dring mcmaster pounds them 88s
all hell breaks loose
as bib rides on stage on the back of an….emu…?
how fucking aussie is that?
later on it turns out that the “emu” was really roadies bernie and val
but from where i was sitting i swore it was the real deal
bib swaggers around showing off his abs and pecs
a woman near me fainted and was dragged away
down the front mayhem erupts as bib touches some lucky ladies hands
man he is so sincere
he grabs the microphone and out comes that crimpolene voice
that sound of a hundred saos and peanut butter
that sound of 5 thousand sauce bottle bongs
that sound of 50 thousand sherbets at the bungy bar
all the lucky lovely ladies hes kissed
his chiselled features ruggedly lined with experience
(he looked old :ed)
he sung our lives to us
“why dont you use a fucking rake..?” his ode railing against lief blowers
“chlorine puberty” his lament for an innocent poolboy seduced by a nasty cougar
“sherbets ahoy” a joyous ode to beer and drinking
” fuck!” a song exploring a stubbed toe and bibs anguish
“dorothy, give me a bloody break!” about his ex actress dorothy dolphin
here bib uses such authentic lyrics as the heartbreakingly wrenching
” i was only down the pub so whats the fucking problem?”
his song about road rage “it was fucking orange !”
with the whole crowd joining in on
“you stupid bastard howdja ever get a licence…..?”
until the crowd took the refrain taking it to new majestic heights
while bib re-enacted an altercation with a florists truck on old south head road
snog comely is the other driver brandishing his guitar frightening like a weapon
pectin works the crowd like a shaman from the olden days
sipping beer and smoking a cig
the opera house goes nuts for his take on the national anthem
on the line
our land is girt by sea
there is not a dry eye in the whole joint
a map of australia appears complete with dots for capitals
and lines for major rivers
and broken lines indicating the states and territories
bib points out the various members states and each receives a cheer
but local boy fropley gets a thunderous welcome
as bib uses his pointer to point at new south wales
NEW SOUTH FUCKING WALES bib ululates manfully
and the local unbiased crowd responds with swooning adulation and pride
bib yells out AND NEW FUCKING ZEALAND
and there is a slight pause with nervous laughter and confusion
until we all remember that fropleys mother indeed is from auckland
fropley jumps over the kit shaking a tambourine and the crowd go nuts
its a typical bib show
is he even human?
a suburban prophet
the bondi junction wonder boy
sydneys beloved displaced cockney bastard crooner and not a bad golfer
bib takes up a simple acoustic guitar for the haunting “bank error in your favour”
a song about a mistaken stray 300 bucks bib innocently noticed
his agent had forgotten to take his cut
and bib puts down his thoughts to a strident folky tune
“fuck him he’d diddle me so i should diddle him
fuck him
he’d fiddle me so i could fiddle him
commission bullshit
ive worked my balls off all my life
so this prick can buy a mercedes for his wife…?!”
the crowd are clearly moved
its a fantastic set
his version of hey jude is simply spell binding
standing with the scarf between his outstretched hands
he encourages the crowd to sway from side to side during the
na na na hey jude bit
such an incredible feeling of unity
the rest of the night is a blast
i lose track of the treasury of wonders bib unleashes
he returns after five delirious encores and does his classic song
“oh coogee”
a song about a broken surf board mysteriously fixed
and a vision of the virgin in the waves riding a ten foot malibu
” your halo framed by a huge fucking set
like grommet in the sand
or a sherbet from a can”
genius
i rest my case*
read my blog daily froggart@spawn.com
