Live Review: Custard, Dick Pix

The buzzing Newtown crowd were anxious to see recently reformed, '90s power-pop legends Custard in the flesh but, lest the night simply devolve into nostalgia, the headliners invited unGoogleable local quartet Dick Pix, who'd previously played only three gigs, to open the show. The band's enjoyably unhinged garage-rock was properly impressive, at times resembling riot-grrl and classic New York punk, and their self-deprecating humour (such as the band's drummer joking he hadn't learned how to use the cymbals yet) was quite endearing, engendering a sort of underdog charm for the group.

Their songs were defiant and funny, including one about taking advantage of creepy guys in bars and another about the perils of having anal sex on the beach. With the band's original stuff proving to be 'no slouch', a highlight came in their cover of Tom Jones' She's A Lady, with lyrics replaced to be about the singer's mum, who looked on with considerable pride from the back of the room. We'll be keeping an eye out for more Dick Pix — if anyone has any info on where to find them online, please get in touch.  

It was a night of celebration, though, and the crowd was properly ready when Custard hit the stage. Beginning with the alt-country lilt of Orchids In Water, the band's laconic wit came through early, as frontman Dave McCormack introduced the solo from lead guitarist Matthew Strong, who, instead of playing, triumphantly raised his arms, receiving rapturous applause for the entire eight bars. There was plenty of support for tunes from Custard's first album in 16 years (from which the band played about half a dozen tracks), although the real love in the room was for the deeper cuts. A particularly fierce rendition of Lucky Star, the toe-tapping singalong accompanying The New Matthew, the chaotic, evergreen Apartment — these songs haven't aged a day and the band haven't lost any of the fire that made them local heroes in the first place. 

The band were slavishly devoted to their 45-minute set time, so only stepped off stage for about ten seconds before delivering a rapid-fire encore. It's their own fault that they couldn't get through everyone's favourite song — they would've had to be onstage for hours to play them all, and maybe they should've thought of that before writing so many damn classics in the first place.