The Wake

“This next band is Rock … the way it used to be, Rock … the way it SHOULD BE, and ROCK … THE WAY IT ALWAYS WILL BE … WOLF-MUTHAAA!!!” This summer, Lollapalooza founder Perry Farrell bestowed the band with this grand introduction on the festival’s second day. The band, feeding off the crowd’s excited roar, took the stage at a run. They picked up their instruments in mid stride and threw the riotous crowd into a time warp frenzy of free loving, eternal rock. This powerhouse trio from Australia has been blowing minds around the globe since their full length debut in May 2006. On February 28th, the group blew into the Myth in Maplewood as part of their current North American tour.

It at happened on that night that it began to snow. It snowed with such vigor and consistency that much of Minnesota would be shut down the next day. Thankfully the show was not cancelled, as many a Minnesotan would have been worse off for it. The fans were out in force, braving the elements as they stood in line, acting a fool in their intoxicated state. The Myth Nightclub claims little of the history and mystique of other area venues. It’s a 25 minute drive from campus and shares a parking lot with a Toys R’ Us. There are roped of VIP areas with plush couches and coasters. Security guards pat you down at the door, and monitor the venue throughout the evening. It was in spite of this, and homage to their era conjuring sound, that Wolfmother allowed the crowd to escape these corporate venue shackles and drift into a world entirely their own.

Opening act, the Icarus Line, borrowed heavily from many of the same acts you can feel in Wolfmother’s sound, though to a far less absorbing effect. From song to song, their arena ready riffs became tough to differentiate. Their long guitar solos grew tedious and their front man, who can be summed up as an epileptic Mick Jagger knock off with no sense of timing or rhythm, began to tire. Aside from their first rate roadie crew providing a spectacular light show, there wasn’t much going on at all. They strained desperately to exude a sense of effortless cool. A song titled, “She Gets Paid Through the Nose,” was a clear attempt to inform the crowd of their Mötley Crüe like day growing up in Los Angeles. Few aside from the middle finger flashing, devil horn touting attendees to my right were impressed. As we waited for Wolfmother to take the stage, these gents grew unbearable. A 5 dollar plastic cup of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, they began to amuse themselves in a manner you’d expect from someone wearing a “full tilt poker” visor in the midst of snow storm (or at any time for that matter). “Hey, get on his shoulders and show everyone your tits,” they prompted all the lucky ladies in their presence.

Fortunately, Wolfmother was quick to take the stage. Walking out to the enduring provocation of Keith Richard’s guitar on, “Satisfaction,” the crowd surged forward. Lead singer Andrew Stockdale wore a suit vest over a rolled up, tight fitting dress shirt and pants combo. His afro was as shapely as ever and everyone in the group was unshaven. Bassist Chris Ross and Drummer Myles Heskett wore tight jeans and t-shirts, looking equally as unkempt. Starting with a few moments of suspenseful buildup, Stockdale’s possessed yowl sent us all into another, “Dimension.” With a perfect combination of lingering riffs, winding bass, John Bonham drums, and mystical lyrics, this opening track speeds up, quiets down, and then powers out. Stockdale stepped to the microphone at the song’s conclusion. “We will now snow ourselves into the cave of the ‘White Unicorn’,” he quipped wryly in his inviting Australian accent. Consensus jubilation was to follow. The song clocks in at 5:00 minutes on record, but easily exceeded 8 or 9. Starting off with some playfully strummed guitar and a driving bass drum, Stockdale spun a tale of a seductive temptress and her wine, which was drunk from a, “serpent’s vine.” It built to a “Riders on the Storm” like interlude of pattering symbol and shimmering keys and chimes. A jagged guitar and mounting snares sprung into a monster riff blowout complete with drum solo and Robert Plant like falsetto.

Ever the stage performer, Stockdale kicked his leg high over his head to accent the peak of his mounting riffs on “Woman”. Ross turned his keyboard on its side and pounded away a jitterey solo while Heskett crashed each symbol as though it were his last. A large disco ball was lowered down and purple lights flooded the room on, “Where Eagles Have Been.” Undertone bass adhered smoothly to Stockdale’s nondescript visions of flowing water and ideological worlds. “Show me the land, where people live together,” he beseeched in his grandiose falsetto. A high arching keyboard line with swirling wind effects were swept up by Stockdale’s breakneck solo. A “mystic haze” swirled overhead as the smell of sweet ganja overtook the Myth. “Time to start a love fest here in Minnesota,” provoked Stockdale before we all took our collective ride on the, “Love Train,” Wolfmother’s sexiest effort. “Apple Tree” kicked off like a blues punk, early White Stripes tune before thundering toms from Keskett replaced Meg White’s snares and Stockdale’s Jack White shout turned to a skyscraping bellow. The closest semblance to a ballad was, “Mind’s Eye.” Contemplatively played bass and drums matched Stockdale’s whimsical queries. The song flared into a hail storm of fire-handed keyboard and the soaring invitation to, “Come and see the mind’s eye, we can find if we try.” Playing tirelessly throughout the set, the band refused to slow down, even for a second. Their deservedly confident rock attitudes failed to relent. They had the crowd eating from the palm of their epic hands. Though likely aided by the inevitably incurred contact high, I would like nothing more than for all of you to experience the euphoric trance of a Wolfmother show in the flesh.