The Beatles were big, but they never stage-dived quite like TISM did on Saturday night. The real John Lennon never knocked himself out for half an hour after doing it either. With absolute disrespect for their bodies and to those unlucky enough to be below John, John, John, Paul, George and Ringo relentlessly threw themselves around like out of control rag dolls for around two hours of what can only be described as thoroughly entertaining anarchy.
'Dressed' in their new-look white jump suits and trusty rubber balaclavas, the boys from TISM were not afraid to get amongst it from the get go. John No.1 forged his way to the mixing desk in the middle of the floor, trying to sing the big sounding, riff-heavy new album opener, Gunna Get Off My Face (Message from a Big Day Out Portaloo - Ms .45), whilst fans clawed at his mask, suit and big bold sign stuck to his head that held his fake identity. All this within a minute of their first song.
The chaos continued all night long. TISM Idol, kept the crowd involved for the entire performance. Idol was complete with three judges including Ivan Mallat and compromising of contestants like Karvina, Sabrina, Beyonce� and Sharon, who came on between songs to give their TISM renditions, only to be heckled by the best � �Show us your tits!�, �Fuck off baldy�, �This is bullshit� � and subsequently booed off stage. When you�ve got big burly blokes in flannies doing the actions to Greg the Stopsign!, you know you�re doing something right. The interaction between TISM and the crowd was fun, second to none.
This was the nature of the night. Everyone was smiling, laughing, singing along to songs, both old and new, from the one band who, over the last 15 years, have been upholding the values of the everyday Australian; get pissed, go sick and never ever take yourself or the world too seriously. Having a dig at everything from politics to pop-stars, TISM�s unique ability to put on a show and say exactly what everyone�s thinking, using extreme sarcasm and wit while they�re doing it, gives them personal charm and allows them to relate to a wide range of people. Even though they name names, they somehow get away with it. I Rooted A Girl, Who Rooted A Guy, Who Rooted A Girl... Who Rooted Shane Crawford with signs to help you sing-a-long and sad, bad, choreographed dance moves was just one example of the stupendous slander being spilt from the stage.
The antics were great. The music wasn�t too bad either. With all the extra shit you sort of forgot you were watching a rock band. Probably one of the best moments I�ve ever had at Hifi was joining in as the whole crowd sung the line "I�m On The Drug" at the top of their lungs. What Are Ya and I�ll Ave Ya complete with run-up and jump, chesty-butt contests, were highlights. Start A Fight, 40 Years Then Death and the hilarious Bruises not far behind. But the defining moment was the boys' dosey doe-ing to Defecate On My Face. The remnants of their white, mosh-pit ripped, body suits struggling to stay on, even with the help of duct tape, their arses bared and being proudly waved around for all to see.
They left once and returned for more Defecation and fittingly Saturday Night, but when they left again uncertainty flowed on in and overcame the crowd. The lights were still down. Instead of 'encore' the masses shouted "TISM are Shit" in unison. Then TISM�s favourite gal, Delta Goodrem came on the PA and it was all over.
