Chapter One:
On a balmy summer afternoon, the sun sets over Moore Park as hordes of passionate Beastie Boys fans make their way towards the Hordern Pavilion. Excited kids with trucker hats on surreptitiously down longnecks of VB under trees, occasionally screaming ‘Beastie Boys! Fuck yeah!’ to the cute girls that walk by. Rogue scalpers mingle with the crowd gathered outside the Hordern Pavilion, trying to offload overpriced tickets to this sold-out show.
Some of the punters are looking suitably ghettofabulous. Others have decked themselves out in old-school threads, sporting big chains and bright tracksuits, their tongues firmly planted in cheek. Most of the crowd, however, look exceptional only in that they’re so excited, all of them totally pumped to see one of the most consistent and talented bands in the world.
Chapter Two:
The doors are opened, and people head in after being patted down by security. Some make their way to the bar, looking to booze up quickly. Many stake out a position near the stage. Many mingle in the Hordern forecourt, sucking down cigarettes or discussing whether Paul’s Boutique or Ill Communication is the better album.
Those who’ve turned up on time are treated to Scribe, the New Zealand rapper who’s been getting scoring some attention of late, both commercial and critical. Personally selected by the Beastie Boys, Scribe delivers like most expected he would, and those in the Pavilion have a suitably good time.
Chapter Three:
Post-Scribe, the punters push into the Hordern. Anxiously waiting, they sporadically move forward, hoping to get a better view of the Boys when they come out. Before they bound out though, a short film is shown in which Mix Master Mike excavates a mummy in Darwin. The mummy, of course, would like to join Mike up in the DJ booth, just to prove that mummy’s can get down like everyone else. Mike is accommodating, and the mummy joins him high above the crowd. He – Mike, not the mummy - proves why he’s been dubbed the best DJ in the world by scratching and mixing like a man possessed. And then, after being treated to a technical showcase on the decks, it’s time for the Beastie Boys to come out…
And it’s spectacular. Decked out in bright orange tracksuits, Adrock, MCA and Mike D start spouting out Egg Man, a Curtis Mayfield-sampling classic from Paul’s Boutique. The crowd love it. They can’t get enough of it. Strangers look to each other, beaming, their eyes lit up.
And the hits don’t stop. Old-school favourite Brass Monkey comes up next, Root Down is dropped and Pass The Mic is delivered. Then, a drum fill spurts out the speakers, and the crowd knows it’s officially on like fucking Donkey Kong, as Adrock raps ‘now, I rock a house party at the drop of a hat / And I beat a biter down with an aluminum bat’ and, yes, it’s Shake Your Rump. Released in ’89, it sounds fresher than ever.
Then the orange tracksuits disappear, along with the guys wearing them. And MixMaster shows us some more of his tricks, mixing and twisting and matching and scratching and generally showing all the aspiring DJ nerds in the crowd how it’s done.
Chapter Four:
Now, what’s this? The curtain is raised, and there’s keyboardist Money Mark in a suit. And there’s the rest of the boys. And an afro-sporting bongo player named Alfonso. And they’re playing the funky instrumental Sabrosa. And then Lighten Up. And then – oh, my lord! – Something’s Got To Give. It’s a chilled-out, slowed-down instrumental extravaganza, with the Beasties showing they don’t need mics to their mouths to get down.
Those who came here to see hit after hit look a little perturbed and, maybe, a little bored. But those who’ve spent nights drinking while The Inside From Way Out! spins are loving every second of it. They’re loving seeing the boys show how truly versatile they are.
Chapter Five:
Then it’s time for some more rap. Want classics? The Beastie Boys deliver: So Whatcha’ Want, Three MCs And One DJ, Time To Get Ill, and the fantastic An Open Letter To NYC from their sadly underappreciated latest album, To The Five Boroughs. The crowd is going buckwild again. Every single person. They adore it. They can’t get enough of it. And the Beastie Boys can’t either. They head off stage after rocking the fuck out, and before you know it, it’s time for the encore.
Chapter Six:
Intergalactic is being performed, but where are the Beastie Boys? Oh, right. They’ve travelled to the back of the Hordern and they’re rapping from the sound desk. So the entire crowd – all couple of thousand of them – turns away from the stage to see the lads delivering their rhymes from in the crowd. Oh lord! It’s almost too good. But, ludicrously, it gets even better.
Chapter Seven:
Guitars have been plugged in, and the drum set has been brought out again. There are distortion pedals on the floor. They’re going to do it… they’re definitely going to do it. But not just yet…
First, they need to play Gratitude, and what a highlight it is. A spectacularly awesome song, delivered with spectacular passion by spectacularly awesome guys. Do I even need to say the crowd loves it? The song ends, and Adrock gives us the bad news: the next song will be their last. ‘I think it’s best if we end things on a high,’ he says. The crowd loudly disagrees, demanding more Beastie Boys action. No one wants this gig to end, and they’ll be as loud as possible to make sure it doesn’t.
But then – yes! They do it! Finally! – they play Sabotage and it’s the best end to a concert the crowd has ever seen. It’s been dedicated to George W. Bush, and all the universal passionate hatred of the man is magically transformed into a universal passionate love of Sabotage. Heads are shaking and hips are moving and people are singing along. And it’s amazing.
And the concert ends. And people go home. But not before looking to each other in shocked disbelief, wondering whether that could be the best concert they’ve ever seen in their lives. Ever.
(Originally published at inthemix.com.au and fasterlouder.com.au).
On a balmy summer afternoon, the sun sets over Moore Park as hordes of passionate Beastie Boys fans make their way towards the Hordern Pavilion. Excited kids with trucker hats on surreptitiously down longnecks of VB under trees, occasionally screaming ‘Beastie Boys! Fuck yeah!’ to the cute girls that walk by. Rogue scalpers mingle with the crowd gathered outside the Hordern Pavilion, trying to offload overpriced tickets to this sold-out show.
Some of the punters are looking suitably ghettofabulous. Others have decked themselves out in old-school threads, sporting big chains and bright tracksuits, their tongues firmly planted in cheek. Most of the crowd, however, look exceptional only in that they’re so excited, all of them totally pumped to see one of the most consistent and talented bands in the world.
Chapter Two:
The doors are opened, and people head in after being patted down by security. Some make their way to the bar, looking to booze up quickly. Many stake out a position near the stage. Many mingle in the Hordern forecourt, sucking down cigarettes or discussing whether Paul’s Boutique or Ill Communication is the better album.
Those who’ve turned up on time are treated to Scribe, the New Zealand rapper who’s been getting scoring some attention of late, both commercial and critical. Personally selected by the Beastie Boys, Scribe delivers like most expected he would, and those in the Pavilion have a suitably good time.
Chapter Three:
Post-Scribe, the punters push into the Hordern. Anxiously waiting, they sporadically move forward, hoping to get a better view of the Boys when they come out. Before they bound out though, a short film is shown in which Mix Master Mike excavates a mummy in Darwin. The mummy, of course, would like to join Mike up in the DJ booth, just to prove that mummy’s can get down like everyone else. Mike is accommodating, and the mummy joins him high above the crowd. He – Mike, not the mummy - proves why he’s been dubbed the best DJ in the world by scratching and mixing like a man possessed. And then, after being treated to a technical showcase on the decks, it’s time for the Beastie Boys to come out…
And it’s spectacular. Decked out in bright orange tracksuits, Adrock, MCA and Mike D start spouting out Egg Man, a Curtis Mayfield-sampling classic from Paul’s Boutique. The crowd love it. They can’t get enough of it. Strangers look to each other, beaming, their eyes lit up.
And the hits don’t stop. Old-school favourite Brass Monkey comes up next, Root Down is dropped and Pass The Mic is delivered. Then, a drum fill spurts out the speakers, and the crowd knows it’s officially on like fucking Donkey Kong, as Adrock raps ‘now, I rock a house party at the drop of a hat / And I beat a biter down with an aluminum bat’ and, yes, it’s Shake Your Rump. Released in ’89, it sounds fresher than ever.
Then the orange tracksuits disappear, along with the guys wearing them. And MixMaster shows us some more of his tricks, mixing and twisting and matching and scratching and generally showing all the aspiring DJ nerds in the crowd how it’s done.
Chapter Four:
Now, what’s this? The curtain is raised, and there’s keyboardist Money Mark in a suit. And there’s the rest of the boys. And an afro-sporting bongo player named Alfonso. And they’re playing the funky instrumental Sabrosa. And then Lighten Up. And then – oh, my lord! – Something’s Got To Give. It’s a chilled-out, slowed-down instrumental extravaganza, with the Beasties showing they don’t need mics to their mouths to get down.
Those who came here to see hit after hit look a little perturbed and, maybe, a little bored. But those who’ve spent nights drinking while The Inside From Way Out! spins are loving every second of it. They’re loving seeing the boys show how truly versatile they are.
Chapter Five:
Then it’s time for some more rap. Want classics? The Beastie Boys deliver: So Whatcha’ Want, Three MCs And One DJ, Time To Get Ill, and the fantastic An Open Letter To NYC from their sadly underappreciated latest album, To The Five Boroughs. The crowd is going buckwild again. Every single person. They adore it. They can’t get enough of it. And the Beastie Boys can’t either. They head off stage after rocking the fuck out, and before you know it, it’s time for the encore.
Chapter Six:
Intergalactic is being performed, but where are the Beastie Boys? Oh, right. They’ve travelled to the back of the Hordern and they’re rapping from the sound desk. So the entire crowd – all couple of thousand of them – turns away from the stage to see the lads delivering their rhymes from in the crowd. Oh lord! It’s almost too good. But, ludicrously, it gets even better.
Chapter Seven:
Guitars have been plugged in, and the drum set has been brought out again. There are distortion pedals on the floor. They’re going to do it… they’re definitely going to do it. But not just yet…
First, they need to play Gratitude, and what a highlight it is. A spectacularly awesome song, delivered with spectacular passion by spectacularly awesome guys. Do I even need to say the crowd loves it? The song ends, and Adrock gives us the bad news: the next song will be their last. ‘I think it’s best if we end things on a high,’ he says. The crowd loudly disagrees, demanding more Beastie Boys action. No one wants this gig to end, and they’ll be as loud as possible to make sure it doesn’t.
But then – yes! They do it! Finally! – they play Sabotage and it’s the best end to a concert the crowd has ever seen. It’s been dedicated to George W. Bush, and all the universal passionate hatred of the man is magically transformed into a universal passionate love of Sabotage. Heads are shaking and hips are moving and people are singing along. And it’s amazing.
And the concert ends. And people go home. But not before looking to each other in shocked disbelief, wondering whether that could be the best concert they’ve ever seen in their lives. Ever.
(Originally published at inthemix.com.au and fasterlouder.com.au).
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