bReview: The Grogans
at Double Whammy, Saturday 6 September
Written by Imogene Bedford
Photography by Nico Penny
Surf rock, to some, is a scourge on modern music — associated with the sonic laziness of garage revivalism. The Australasian airwaves were awash with sunny choruses and hazy guitars in the 2010s, coasting on the fumes of “summer vibes.”
Maybe I’m just nostalgic, but I can’t help but feel a little defensive of the genre in spite of myself. To classify surf rock as a recent unintelligent trend feels like a big fuck you to Joey Santiago’s work on Surfer Rosa. Wave of Mutilation (UK Surf Version) is a fantastic B-side, a languid reframing of the original track that draws the melancholy out of the fuzz. That same spirit —stretching the bones of something jagged into something more elastic — lingers in The Grogans’ sound.
The Melbourne trio have built a reputation for spinning surf into something grimier, less beach, more dive bar. Even so, Double Whammy is still packed with groms in checked shirts and mullets tonight. The mood is slightly feverish. It’s the band’s first Tāmaki show in a year, and the tour’s last hurrah.
I’ve seen openers Wet Denim a few times: regulars on the local band scene, the Pōneke quartet is a self-described rock-pop outfit. Tonight, they feel decidedly noisier than I remember. Lonely For A While is polished but heavy, a song that almost sounds as if it is tearing itself apart. A transitory single for the band, the track seems to be marking a shift into something darker, louder, and more angsty.
Yet the band have always had a knack for crafting songs that are somehow equal parts yearning and distorted. The jangly Stuck With You is restless and melodic, proof that guitar music can still feel earnest without being naive. The string section lends an abrasive edge to the sweetness of their lyrics, undercutting the vulnerability with scratchy hooks.
(Wet Denim at Double Whammy / Photo: Nico Rose Penny)
Even the slow Beautiful Misunderstanding seems like it has an undercurrent of electricity as it bleeds into a searing guitar outro. While frontman Nick Goodwin asks us if we “feel like bringing it down with” them, there’s no real pause in the crowd’s energy. Punters chant lyrics word-for-word, focus resolutely unbroken. The appeal is obvious: there’s a charm to their stage presence, a boyishness.
They close with the spiky Again and Again, and I step out for air. Evenings at Double Whammy are easily broken up by the smokers, but there’s more of a restlessness to this particular break.
I’m finishing a dart as the opening strings of Come Up (Goes Down) kick in, and I feel as if I’m being pulled back inside before I even reach the filter. The Grogans are just that immediately commanding. Washed Out is all about the interplay between guitar and drum, a tension and release that never lets up. Quin Grunden’s Aussie drawl slides with a deliberate laziness, matched by Angus Vasic’s guitar, both laidback and ragged. With Jordan Lewis on his kit, the trio sounds bigger than most four-pieces.
There is a punky edge to their compositions. On I Cannot Read Your Mind, a frustrated riff builds into a borderline manic chorus. Punctuated, sharp, and messy, the vocals feel as if they have been pulled straight from the Violent Femmes. Someone hands me my wallet as the song ends, having flown out of my bag as we danced. “You can’t really tell they have no bass player”, my friend says to me, and we both laugh (he’s a bass player). He’s right, though: it’s an unconventional set up for an unconventional band. Lewis’s sticks carry the rhythm section on their own, and somehow, it works.
(The Grogans at Double Whammy / Photo: Nico Rose Penny)
That knack for subverting expectation runs through the whole set. A song like Lemon To My Lime should be saccharine, now seemingly so many worlds away from the band’s more refined and fast-paced sound. But with a dedication to Kiwi onion dip, The Grogan’s keep a winking knowingness about them, always careful not to dip too far into sincerity. They aren’t ashamed of their early work, nor should they be. The setlist folds that sweetness in with heavier material.
Having relentlessly toured and produced since they started out in 2016, you get the sense they just really fucking love to play. “Now we’re cooking with gas”, one of them grins into the mic, before launching into Le Fangz, a track that whiplashes between slow burn and breakneck abandon.
Mid-set brings my favourite track: Got A Girl. It’s their clearest nod to classic surf, a warped, punk echo of the Beach Boys. Having spent the night prior listening to a friend’s inebriated sermon on Pet Sounds, the influence seems obvious, but the band bend it into something fresh and frenetic. They inhabit the melodic homage to the 60s’ with ease: Hey Ma’am and I Need You share streaks of vintage psychedelia.
They certainly have their fingers in many pies, from garage to blues to psych, but The Grogans never sound lost. Surf, in their hands, is an adaptable scaffolding that lets other influences breathe. Money Will Chase You, now their biggest song, comes from 2019’s Just What You Want, the record that perhaps captures the band’s ability to be both sharp and sentimental. On stage, each lick feels even larger, the varied textures of their sound expansive.
(The Grogans at Double Whammy / Photo: Nico Rose Penny)
The last show of the tour, the trio express their thanks before slamming into Oh Boy, a track that encapsulates everything the band does best. They experiment with pace confidently, a constant exercise in restraint. Both guitars are lifted by some very clean drum work as they battle for edge, each pushing the other riff forward. They are a live act in the truest sense, dismissing the crowd back into the night with more energy than we arrived with.
I had to convince some friends to come tonight, playing down the surf-rock angle. By the end, I wonder why I even bothered: surf doesn’t need to be defended, nor do The Grogans. One tremolo pick says it all.
(The Grogans at Double Whammy / Photo: Nico Rose Penny)
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