[PHAT PHILE ALERT! Megalodons of megs!!!]
B L O O D Y F I S T
"Greetings fuckers, Here it is. Job #8 complete - in all its glory and splendour.
Was it worth the wait? You decide. It has been stated on the website now for some time
that this job in particular would be finished and fully released by the end of June 2003.
LIES - all of it. Life is usually a lot easier if you believe only
about a third of what you read and nothing you hear.
Anyway... as you will already be aware, this CDR was released to
commemorate the final Bloody Fist gig "Last Drinks" at the seminal
Newcastle pub venue: The Hunter On Hunter Hotel. The pub stands at
417 Hunter St Newcastle, and has existed there as long as I can
remember. Beneath the Hunter's ceiling is where the Newcastle punk
scene, metal scene, indie scene and industrial hardcore scene have all
co-existed at one time or another. That very same ceiling collapsed in
early 2002 after years of insanely loud noise had shaken the shit out
of it. Insurance had refused to pay for the ceiling as an inspection
revealed that it had not been built to standard in the first place.
The ceiling incident also followed a major fire upstairs in the
accommodation area sometime during the late 90's. Over and above all
this - anyone who was a student at Newcastle University in the mid
90's or involved in the Newcastle band scene during the early to mid
90's will have their own story to tell of the Hunter.
Heres mine:
The first time I played there was with Nasenbluten back in 1993 -
10 years ago exactly. These early gigs were pre-Bloody Fist, and
usually consisted of local alternative/indie rock bands, punk bands,
and us - all usually packed onto the same bill. If you think that
sounds strange - it was.
One of the first times we performed there as Nasenbluten in late 93,
we were the opening act for some local experimental rock band that
Dave Melo was friends with. One of my most vivid memories of that
evening was looking up at the crowd whilst we were halfway through our
set, and seeing 200+ people seated on the floor with their legs crossed,
quietly observing us. No one was leaving, no one was dancing, no one
was even fucking moving. When our 60-minute set ground to a halt, there
was polite applause. This was one of our first encounters with a 'rock'
crowd, and the fuckers applauded us. We were expecting abuse, shouting,
people throwing shit at us and general malice. We were not up there
playing 'real' instruments like everyone else was doing in Newcastle
circa 1993. Oh no. We were making what must have appeared to the usual
pub crowd as a completely alienating sampled idiotic racket. If it was
really our intention to kick up some sonic dust amongst the 'rock'
crowd back at the Hunter in 1993, it well and truly backfired.
The next time we played support slot for a band at the Hunter, more
people rocked up to see us play than came to see the main act. Word had
travelled, and this culminated in Frank (the Hunter's long suffering
bar manager/booker/bouncer) eventually asking us to headline our own
show there sometime in 1994. Frank hated our music - and still does. He
had originally asked us back in 1993 if we wanted to have our own 'rap'
night. I wondered what he was on about for a minute then it clicked
that he actually thought Nasenbluten was 'rap'. You see dear reader,
back in 1993 the average Australian suburban bloke (like Frank) referred
to anything that wasn't 'rock' music as 'rap shit'. Kylie Minogue,
Public Enemy, C & C Music Factory, Front 242, Snap, Nasenbluten - all
of it 'rap shit'. Anything that could be loosely classified as music
without guitars was 'rap'. These days if it isn't rock or rap, it's
'techno shit' - but that's another .txt file.
So off we went on an occasional journey of Hunter On Hunter 'rap'
nights. Word slowly spread and we eventually met people who were
coming to the shows from outside of Newcastle. Meanwhile, Frank didn't
give two shits what we did as long as we pulled a crowd, they drank,
and we were completely gone by 4am. The shows were at their peak by
the mid 90's, with a regular turnout of 200+. The shows then became
less frequent and punter numbers began dwindling around 1997,
culminating in an embarrassing midweek show where the great Laurent Ho
from France played to a measly 25 people.
By the end of 1998, the cogs were starting to turn again and the gigs
were starting to become more frequent and better attended. By
September / October 1999, the annual Electrofringe Festival had
begun to attract enough of a big crowd to Newcastle to guarantee a
good turnout for the Hunter gigs which coincided with the festival. The
Hunter gigs held during festival time in 1999, 2000, 2001 and 2002
were all excellent, and some of the busiest times the Hunter has ever had.
Not much has really changed at the Hunter in the last 10 years. The
place still looks like a dump, the dunnies are still full of childish
graffiti, the bar reeks of stale beer and old men's farts, and Frank
still wears the same black polo shirt with 'Only At The Hunter' printed
on the back. To this day I still want one of those shirts. Someone
once described the Hunter to me as a men's urinal that sells beer.
Everyone who has been there has a 'Hunter story' to tell. If you are a
female you have probably had your arse grabbed, had your bag racked or
spewed your hole up at the Hunter. If you are a male you've probably
lost your keys, been in a fight or spewed your hole up at the Hunter -
or perhaps you've managed all of the above over the course of 4 hours.
(..and what is the past tense of 'spew' anyway? Is it 'spewed' or
'spewn'?). "Big fuckin' deal.. that type of shit happens at every pub!"
I hear you cry. Ah! But the difference is that other pubs try and
pretend that your average night on the piss shouldn't slide down into
the abyss of drunken idiocy, drinking injuries and bitter regret. At
the Hunter however there is NO PRETENSE. The sheer look of the place
screams untoward behaviour and drunken revelry from every corner, and
the Hunter On Hunter Hotel really means it, maaaan. None of your
poncy Irish pub trimmings, imported beer, spotless dunnies or
dicky-bow security here mate. No sireee. It's like getting drunk in
your mate's garage with plastic chairs, peeling paint, torn up carpet,
gaffer tape, dirty tiles, graffiti and a Nirvana covers band. Several
tossers have in recent times attempted to unsuccessfully bring a
new spin to the Hunter with their limp-wristed music nights and crap
decorations. But the Hunter is the Hunter is the Hunter is the Hunter.
And you fucking little wankers will realise that The Hunter On Hunter
is one turd that steadfastly refuses to be polished. Ever.
Unless of course - it is sold. There was much talk of the place being
sold to some Sydney people (gotta love those Sydney cunts) sometime
late 2002. Frank had informed me that the current owners were looking
at offloading the place if a good offer came along. A good offer did
come along, and the place was ready to change hands in March 2003.
Frank had told me during February that he was being given the
'mushroom' treatment (fed bullshit and kept in the dark) by the owners
in regards to the whole deal. He told me that he had worked there for
at least 15 years, and if new owners bought the place, he'd be out of
a job. 'Cunts' I thought. Being in Frank's position would suck very
hard, not knowing if your 15 year job would be there or not in two
weeks time. Frank ain't a young bloke anymore, and Newcastle ain't
exactly brimming with employment opportunities for someone his age
either. Aside from all this we could only speculate on what might
happen to the Hunter if new owners took it over. Nobody in their right
mind would buy the Hunter and leave it exactly how it was. The place
has been struggling to keep the doors open since the Newcastle band
scene died down in the late 90's. Purchases of similarly run down
Newcastle pubs had taken place around late 2002 as well, with the
Sydney pricks rolling in and refurbishing the places to look like
fucking airport departure lounges. I decided to visit one of them a
month or two after it opened in order to have an informed opinion -
research. The beers were hideously expensive and there were
wall-to-wall girls wearing those wretched denim jeans with the rubbed
down patches. The blokes all stood around with neat haircuts and tight
t-shirts mouthing the words to dance mixes of Eminem songs.
Needless to say I was outta there quick smart. I could never imagine
someone like Frank working in a place like this, and wondered what
would really happen if the Hunter turned into one of these meat markets
- or worse - under the new management.
We booked in for the final Bloody Fist show at the Hunter for Feb 21st,
2003. If we were going to give the place a good send off then this
would be the way to do it. This was also a perfect opportunity for me
to personally throw the towel in with organising gigs at the venue as
well. By this time I had been involved with almost nine years of
arranging Bloody Fist gigs at the Hunter, and I was well over it.
For 9 years we had kept a strict $2/$3 door policy, and some nights
during the 90's we even made it free entry. The upshot of all this was
that by the end of the night, after everyone had been paid, I went home
with sweet fuck all. I continued doing it this way because I enjoyed it
and most people who supported us over the years were on welfare.
We'd had some great shows, some crap ones, some funny ones and some
horrendous ones. If we could go out on a good one I'd be happy to leave
it at that. I also did not want to reach a point where the turnouts
started dwindling again, and it felt like I was flogging a dead horse.
For the night of the 21st Feb, I tried to book as many guys as possible
who were involved in Bloody Fist and the Hunter gigs throughout the
90's, and still lived in Newcastle. It turned out to be a handful -
plus Epsilon who is a major part of the new school of Fisters. Most of
the other guys had either moved away to find employment, get a life,
travel, or just simply get the fuck out of Newcastle once and for all.
We also booked the sound system from hell.
The night was a corker. Excellent turn out from all around the place,
cracking sound system, and mad support from everyone, including a lot
of old faces who we hadn't seen since the mid 90's. The proceedings
were recorded and ripped to MP3, and here they are for you to make
whatever you will of them.
As I write this it is a dark and rainy Sunday night / Monday morning in
early September 2003. The Hunter never did get sold after all. Turns
out the people who were going to buy it got cold feet at the last
minute and balked. That's not to say of course, that it won't become a
karaoke bar in 5 years time - but I couldn't give a fuck anymore. I had
my evil way with the place for 9 years. I'm happy with what took place
there and grateful for Frank & management letting us use it as a hub
for the Bloody Fist live scene for 9 years. From here on it doesn't matter
who attempts what at the Hunter, it's best days are now 100% behind it.
I walked past the place last night and looked in. The front doors were
open and the place was empty except for two crusty old blokes propping
up the bar and the same two faded pool tables that were always there.
The front window is jammed with band posters advertising upcoming gigs
to a disinterested public. Life drags on, and the glorious turd that is
the Hunter On Hunter Hotel still remains unpolished."
