On a weekend of mega-festival madness some of us managed to eschew the beguiling siren calls of those buxom Southbound harpies – were able to leap nimbly from the grasping covetous reach of the closer-to-home Summer Daze crew – and descend in clumpets of masse to the cosy confines of the Rosemount Hotel – for a night of frivolity with some less-than-handsome water fowl.

That’s right peoples! California’s Ugly Duckling rocking the North Perth surrounds in the modestly sized shoebox with the great whopping bar down the middle that is the Rosie Hotel.

Straight off the bat – an unusual choice of tuneage didst greet the fashionably late punter upon arrival in the outside beer garden. In keeping with the supposedly fresh and groovy Hip Hop theme of the evening some bright spark had chosen to spin the dulcet sounds of Slipknot throughout and about the al fresco area. “Inside my shell I wait and bleed.. scream.. scream.. wail..” And if that wasn’t congruent (and indeed pleasant) enough for the evening – twas followed up with a lashing of Soulfly as well. Top work outside muzik choosing fellas.

But soft – the Duckling were almost upon us. Or so the times posted above the door would have had us believe. After a bit of thumb twiddling and watch glancing they finally made their somewhat sauntering entrance onto the Rosie stage. Just as I was preparing to launch into an angry tirade regards their cruel and selfish tardiness. Luckily their appearance left me with a good deal more oxygen in my lungs to sing along to their corking track selection. And how good are those gigs where you rock up and realise you know the words to almost every track the group or artist lavish upon you (well the ultra-catchy choruses at least)? Such was this show for me. Almost akin to that special feeling that groups of 30-something drunken males must feel – as they slump awkwardly in each others arms whilst screaming aloud every execrable syllable of ‘Khe Sanh’ – in perfect harmony with the be-coifed lead singer of their favourite weekend cover band.)

Anyways. The show did start thus:
Dizzy. Andy. And little Mr Einstein at the rear on them spinning wheels of steel. They belted out a cracking rendition of ‘Let It Out’ from the ever excellent Bang for the Buck. Followed up by the crowd favourite ‘Yudee’ (“tell me who you came to see.. Yuuudeeee”). It was immediately apparent I wasn’t the singer-alonger-er amidst the throng. Next up – a mic throwing version of ‘Pass It On’ from Taste the Secret. Einstein got his turn in the spotlight with ‘Einsten’s On Stage’ (“Young Einstein.. he’s about to go live..”) leading into the one that everyone knows ‘Eye On The Gold Chain’ (from the brillig Journey to Anywhere). It was a definitive Greatest Hits parade from a group who’ve actually only released three LP’s and have probably never (as such) had a real-live hit. Still.. each of their albums got an extended look-in. And the knowledgeable fan base on hand showed their gyrating appreciations.

‘The Breakdown’ led to ‘Rio De Janeiro’ before a saucy young wench was extracted from the pit to begin the illustrative intro to ‘Pick Up Line’ (“Honey was offended by the Pick Up Line.. (repeat)”). I think I remember Dizzy uttering something along the lines of:
“Do you work for Australia Post cos I think I’d like to put my package in you..” – before my beleaguered brain proceeded to get funk-drunk and re-route all non-essential systems into the wiggling of my posterior. And to think I’d been planning to stand in the corner and mayhap on occasion jiggle my head in time to an errant beat. But no. Those damn Ducklings didst drag my scrawny booty onto that packed and sweaty dance floor (or whatever you call that two feet of uncarpeted space between bar and stage at the Rosie). The beat was infectious. I shook my dripping box off. Dripping being the operative word as by golly it was warm in there. Would hate to have been stuck in here on a proper summer’s evening (ie an evening that doesn’t rain and cloud over like dark grey cotton candy). There was sweat pooling in every possible crack on my person.

A little bit of my personal favourite didst follow – ‘Shoot Your Shot’ – with the aid of a slightly less fetching member of the audience. A extremely white looking rapscallion in NBA singlet and beanie got his one shot.. his one opportunity.. to spit some sort of freestyle flow in front of the Rosie crowd – whilst Einstein laid his stereotypically funky beats below. I’d have to admit my cringe sensors were on full alert – but the boy done reasonable if not good. If only he’d dressed a little more grandly for he occasion. But then he did get to shoot that shot. All throughout our moist and glistening earholes.

Next up – more outrageously recognisable tunes with ‘Just a Little Samba’, ‘I Did It Like This’, ‘Turn It Up’ – before the trio did trudge from the stage with nary a backwards glance. The crowd did their best to maintain an enthusiastically polite encore call – but it was a tad difficult given we were all in a state of melting (and at the very least had lost almost 90% of our body fluids).

And the encore was amongst us. Ironically enough there was a bit of ‘Introduckling’ at the climax – then some ‘Smack’ (“you needed that.. we’ll teach you how to act”). Ooh yeah. “I think I got.. I think I got.. I think I gotta hit ya!” we all sang. And hit us those boys in their rap finery sure did. Right upside our big old appreciative Perthling faces.

Thanks to you – the boys from the Duckling – for reminding me it’s possible to dance without a million foreign chemicals sloshing through your every pore. Top work!

Heronimous Wang
(proof readings for the illiterati – spot the deliberate mistakes!)