If Rock is a Dirty Word Than Blackwater is The Filth and I Will Drink It

These days “rock” is a dirty word. What the fuck does it mean to say, “I like rock music”. You’re always asked to explain further. I’m not explaining further. I like whatever can give me a hard on.

Recently, I took in a two-day festival of rock acts. I felt flaccid. I couldn’t believe the amount of bands on stage that could strut more convincingly than they could strike a chord. The same old song and dance, one after another. There’s the problem. Hindsight may be a drag but she’s never wrong. Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Rose Tattoo, Deep Purple and Motorhead. The slammed misfits of their era. Now heroes. So a stage of carbon copies on the local scene without the abilities to back up a strut are just going to fall away aren’t they? You’d hope. I do, but I’m a hardline jerk at times.

Every once in awhile an act comes along that doesn’t quite fit the mould. Enter Blackwater. A Sydney four-piece formed in 2006. They echo that hero era with style but basically, this is a whisky-fuelled experience of original songs in the blues licks vein with sinister and modern intentions.

For all my gig hoppin’, what sets this band apart is their ability to deliver it all live. From The Annandale to The Excelsior, they ram that good shit home. And you know they fuckin’ rehearse. Playing in Sydney for two years, there is no bullshit dress code and no compromises and that’s why they’re the rag-tag group of misfits who harken back to the heroes of old.

Working under the Southern Cross Rock management banner, they still keep their authenticity. If I was ever going to draw a comparison, it would be Rose Tattoo but coming as far as they have in two years, performance wise, I’d rather let their freak flag fly and leave the comparisons to rest.



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