The Wendys, Bloodbags & Darryn Harkness – Whammy Backroom: July 13, 2024

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Ōtautahi surf-punks The Wendys finally packed a decade of surf-inspired tunes onto a vinyl, Let’s Go To The Beach, survived the pandemic, and caught one of the last ferries between Te Waipounamu and Te Ika-a-Māui, to play in Tamaki Makaurau on a frosty night when men are playing with their balls in front tens of thousands of other ball lovers.

Darryn Harkness (Solo)

Darren HarknessWith a whakapapa spanning coastlines, decades and genres, Darren’s escapades in acts like Spacesuit, Serafin, Dead Flowers and the Hallelujah Picassos exude mana and confidence. Onstage with a couple of guitars and a foot-powered bass drum (see photo) Darryn Harkness kicks things off with a cheery ‘Hello Wendy, fucking Wendys gig, I’m here to warm you up’ or similar or made-up, probably misquoted.

In a troubadour manner, on his two eclectic distorted guitars, he presented a series of post-punk-rhythmic songs. In a flavour or flavours, Harkness suggestively delves into his kete and presents a short-sharp-set that hints of Buckley (Jeff not Tim) Leadbelly on a raw blues-like song that is a delight to behold, and a end tune that honours Chris Knox at his most energized. E rawe!

Bloodbags

BloodbagsAround me, people are putting earplugs in as Tolley tunes and checks his guitar, and then they take them out to continue their korero as the lost-in-action drummer, Sam Ralston leaves a void onstage.

Immediately, the clinical delivery by three exemplary musicians fills the room with punk-rock-ethos, heavy-metal-energy and a pre-gothic vibe. Bloodbags early/dirty ZZ Top style blues rock is speed on speed.

At one point Tolley is a skeletor-like figure, commanding, pumping out darkened magical guitar riffs, posed like a dangerous post-Elvis figurine. The addition of two English rugby supporters upfront piques further audience interest, was it the lukewarm Steinlager in their rugger-bellies or the raw energy of Bloodbags that inspired their overt enthusiasm, we may, shall never know.

Bloodbags

Younger folk invade, the room has filled fuller, a mosh-pit threatens, just as they end, Tolley amused by the energy-opposites, adds one more song to their set. Finished, not yet, as bassist Matt Rapley is on his mic, one more song, a one-minute song, a song he sings.

The Wendys

As promised, threatened, feared, Ōtautahi’s surf punks, The Wendys do costume up into their lifeguards’ garb.

WendysA decade of playing surf punk gospel shines in their finesse, tight and complete delivery by members Dave Tyson (Guitar, Vox) Henry Cake (Bass, Vox) Nick Vassar (Drums, Vox) and Jay Jackman (Guitar) The audience, still the rugger-buggers are in the room, three of them now, buy into the bands image and sound, energy and cliche envelope them all in a party-night aura.

As the band grinds through a set that includes all the expected songs, like Lo-fi Lies, Dropping In, and of course Let’s Go To The Beach, this reviewer, this jaded audience member is thinking, can the band’s schtick, the surf-punk brand, have legs?

Jay Jackman’s guitar skills scream catch-me-if-you-can, and the elements of 70’s guitar rock I’m hearing now and then, think early Rolling Stones, early Black Crowes, early Tom Petty, are beckoning. They’ve done the national tour, released the album (on vinyl), done the decade, so where’s the next surf for The Wendys?

 

Simon Coffey

 

Simon Coffey
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