On the cusp of releasing their weirdo pop joy in the form of album 3, Screens, The Mint Chicks laid waste to an unsuspecting crowd of first years last Thursday. Ostensibly a ‘pop’ band, they’ve subverted that term into a spaced-out, weirdo beast that’s as much acid-washed drone as it is three-chord pop-punk. And having worked as a three-piece for the last yearish, they’ve got their vibe totally down now.Previously spastic pop tracks like Welcome To Nowhere and Walking Off A Cliff Again have been reworked into stripped-down, flat out punk, more reminiscent of EP-era Mint Chicks. Not that they’ve stepped backwards musically- roughly half the set was new material, which shone through. When Kody wasn’t hoisting himself up sideways on the railings to scream out Blue Team Go, he was at the keyboards, punching in the space-age tones that push 2010, or warping his vocals amongst shimmery synth sounds for What A Way To Start The Day. Enemies exploded out of its repetitive rhythm into a destructive refrain of guitar, and brutalised the crowd in a way I thought only No Age were gonna do this year.
Oh yeah, the crowd. OK so obviously there’s this whole deal with The Mint Chicks having two sets of fans, which can effectively be classified into ‘people who like their singles’ and ‘people who like The Mint Chicks’. As they’ve come to dominate NZ music (and consequently flee the monster of adoration they created), its a split that’s been pretty apparent. Not to begrudge The Mint Chicks their fame, but it does make for some annoying crowds, exhibited in full at this show.
The seemingly token effort of Crazy? Yes! Dumb? No! highlighted this division for any crowd members who weren’t that aware of it. Half got fervently overexcited about a track they didn’t have to plug their ears for, while the other half stood back and waited for some more spazz. They got it too, in the form of tracks like I Can’t Stop Being Foolish, and the closer of Life Will Get Better Someday. The latter devolved into a noise jam, Ruban Nielson joining Paul Roper on the drums to add beats to the wall of noise they left behind them, while Kody dismantled the drum kit, wore it on his head, and handed it to the crowd. The flashes of high-pitched feedback may not have been enjoyed by all, but from a band who thrive on fucking with peoples expectations of them, it was mega legit.
It would’ve been a sweet way to end the night, and really should have been. BUT, they didn’t finish there. Joined by RHCP teens on crack The DHDFD’s, they then almost butchered the night (and a lot of peoples nostalgic Flying Nun sentiments) by covering The Clean’s Beatnik. Far from the blissful pop of the original, it was tortured, warped and spat out onto the floor. Full points for effort but, um, NOTHNX.
James Beavis
