Written by: Tom Wilson
Photos by: Tracy McLaughlan
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“THE HARD-ONS are Australia’s answer to MOTÖRHEAD. Absolutely shit-hot.”

It’s my first time at Soapbox, and I have to say it’s impressed. An upstairs loft in Fortitude Valley, it has a similar vibe to The Zoo, with no barrier in front of the stage. Four-piece THE GLYCEREENS open up the night, and coax punters forward as they rip into their set of propulsive garage rock while wearing matching striped shirts. They tackle the occasional sound glitch with a smile, and set the tone well.

Up next is THE DOG TRACKERS, who one-up the GLYCEREENS’ acknowledgement of country by doing it in the native dialect, the First Nations flag draped over the speaker. A trio with a harder sound, the tone is definitely getting heavier as the night progresses, and they are tight as hell, backed by a drummer in a red fedora who reduces his drumsticks to kindling throughout their set. Still on a high from their recent tour of Japan, they boast some killer riffs, and it is little wonder how they scored this particular support slot. Awesome stuff.

I recently asked the bassist from BLIND GIRLS at what point in a band’s career do they stop doing their own soundcheck? If you’re THE HARD-ONS, the answer is, “not even on your 40th anniversary.” The band plug in and get sorted, YOU AM I legend Tim Rogers sauntering out to set up his mic while wearing embroidered white flares because of course he fucking is. They share a glance, and Tim launches himself into the air, bringing his rainbow Blundstones stomping down onto the stage to kick off Apartment for Two. Ray Ahn is a headbanging tornado, and Blackie is shredding his battered guitar so close to my head that I can floss my teeth with his strings. Buzz Buzz Buzz is as heavy as lead, and between tracks they converse with the sound guy to get things to their liking. “This is our last soundchecking song,” Tim says with a laugh as he introduces Punk Police. Once they’re happy, they get down to business, and all whip off their shirts to let the sweat rain down. It’s not long before SENSE joins them. It is hot as hell in here. I told you it was just like The Zoo.

It’s a cliché, but Tim Rogers doesn’t just play rock ‘n’ roll, he is rock ‘n’ roll, and it’s hard to imagine another universe where he did anything else with his time. Swigging red wine from the bottle, he is every bit the snake-hipped rock star he was in his twenties, only better. Their latest album is called I Like You A Lot Getting Older, and truth be told, that’s how I feel about THE HARD-ONS. Frequencies and Humiliated / Humiliator are burnout songs of the highest order, and Rogers’ voice soars up to the rafters. After She’s a Dish leads into the traditional encore peekaboo, they bust out some classics, turning Suck & Swallow into a drawn-out jam, Ray Ahn pulling someone onstage and handing him his bass, taking his place in the audience to watch his mate hammer out the last notes. It’s a fitting end to a fantastic night from a band that sounds every bit as vital now as they were decades earlier. THE HARD-ONS are Australia’s answer to MOTÖRHEAD. Absolutely shit-hot. All hail.

Photos by: Tracy McLaughlan
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