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