Adelaide is filled with musicians who are muso’s, musicians who have been around the block, and musicians who are scary and won’t go away. Ben Gel and Co, and The C-Bombs, are locals who are scary and won’t go away. 
In fact, if you saw these seven blokes walking toward you down Pitt Street (never mind a dark alley) you’d change direction and duck into a nice expensive shop until either the gang had passed, or they’d been harassed by the local fuzz and told very firmly to ‘move on - or else’.
Of course, appearances are deceiving. Onstage, Ben Gel looks like an all-in wrestler and handles his bass like a kid’s toy, and he’s a sweetie; Mark lays down a nasty kit and Paul the guitarist sets up a wall of squall.
Tony Grudge from the C-Bombs looks like he’d grab your balls and haul you outside for a good kicking, but he’s a sweetie too; Rob Szkolik (I once said ‘gesundheit’ after he said his surname and he kicked me, hard) (hospital food isn’t that bad) shoves a rumbling bass beneath Sean Tilmouth’s international-standard guitar work while Phil Grudge stays at the back and propels the band forward.
Well, alright. Maybe ‘sweetie’ is the wrong word. I love all of The Baddest Man … but Ben Gel’s song “EatDrinkFuckFight” reminds me of my upbringing in the loathsome Adelaide northern suburbs. Meanwhile the C-Bombs’ “EP” is now on high rotation. It’s short enough you can play it while you mount the pavement in between dropping the kids off and your informal chat with the police.
I love seeing these blokes play live. Born performers, DTK and in your face. It’s like they belong in some dark place playing to drunk people in the ‘burbs who, much against their will, find themselves either dancing, headbanging or getting stuck into something else.
Both producers have made striking decisions in the sound of each CD; “The Baddest Man” has a pop feel offset by a visceral undercurrent; the C-Bombs sound like they want to chew your legs off.
Both CDs will get your attention straight out. And they’ll keep it. Yes, I may be biased. But if I thought the CDs were shit or even indifferent, they wouldn’t get reviewed. It’s a lot easier not to review a pooh CD.
You should know me by now. Thirty years ago, I didn’t like the Exploding White Mice (tho the guys were cool); but I loved the Lizard Train and Bloodloss and Worm Tongue and the Johnsons … Adelaide is a city of secrets, and for once you have a chance to peer inside the barrel. Yeah, alright it’s a bit whiffy … would you have your dirty rock’n’roll any other way?
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