Russell HughesDoes any of this make sense?
Does Electric Six frontman Dick Valentine make sense, up there on stage, standing still with a grin on his face like a satisfied dad at a BBQ?
Do I make sense, down here, watching him up there, watching me with that grin on his face?
Do legs make sense? Not sure but they’re hypnotised, moving to Dick’s every command as he holds court with his mates on stage like nothing’s changed since Electric Six entered our consciousness in 2003 with cult classics Danger! High Voltage and Gay Bar.
Never mind making sense. At times, it can be tempting to consider if Electric Six even exists. Ask anyone in the street if they know the band, and you’ll be met with a chin scratch. But at night, enough people emerge out the woodwork to sell out shows in Wellington and Auckland. Neck minnit (it’s a Kiwi thing), we’re all singing to Dance Commander and jumping to Gay Bar and dancing to Dirty Ball and laughing to Dick telling random stories about ex-PM Jacinda Ardern, organic honey, monetising American politics and Mexican chain restaurant Zambrero.
The frontman has a unique charm about him – calling the crowd Tuesday night instead of dropping a traditional [place name] into his patter for at least the first 45 minutes of the show – but no matter what he says, it’s lapped up.
For some people, Electric Six have been in their lives the whole time. Those are the lucky people. Although, sadly, the band is Electric Five in New Zealand as they’re missing a synthesiser player, and while that does leave some songs feeling a little… empty, nobody seems to notice because the boys are on fire. The sound quality’s pin sharp, and the musicianship instantly on display.
This is a band who has made a living not taking itself too seriously, while at the same time being a completely serious band. You don’t make 20 albums without a dedication to the craft, and even if Dick Valentine is the thread holding this whole affair together, the rest of the band knit it all together perfectly.
On stage, the band gives off the vibe of effortless, practised precision. Songs rolled into one other with barely a break, and the pièce de résistance came when they played (Who the Hell Just) Call My Phone? in between the “stop” and “continue” on Improper Dancing.
Despite the insane longevity and hard work of this band, it’s clear that songs from debut album Fire go down the best – and maybe because there’s so many guitar rock greats from that record. Over the course of a 20-song show, Electric Six play Naked Pictures (Of Your Mother), Gay Bar, She’s White, Improper Dancing, Danger! High Voltage, Synthesizer and Dance Commander, interspaced with songs like Dr. K from their new album Turquoise and Down at McDonnelzzz.
Electric Six rode to infamy with Gay Bar but 19 albums later they still feel like an underground band, albeit one that plays to sold out venues across the world. Rolling Stone called their debut “the summer’s most brilliantly demented party record”, and 21 years later, Electric Six could lay claim to being the world’s most brilliantly demented party band.
Nobody in Wellington would argue.