Live Review: Bob Log III, Puta Madre Brothers, Rattlin' Bones Blackwood

A night of one-man-bands, including the Puta Madre Brothers (“the world's only one-man-band-band”) and Bob Log lll proves to be an exciting draw as a sell-out crowd packs the Tote's bandroom on a Friday.

As many begin to spill in, Rattlin' Bones Blackwood warms up the crowd with his impressive distorted blues licks. Many heads nod to the beat kept up with his two legs on a hi-hat and kick drum. Rattlin' Bones chats to the crowd between songs in a sketchy Southern drawl as he swaps guitars only to be forced a minute later to swap back after an impromptu playing of his Broken String Blues. Stuck on the one guitar, he curses the other for ruining his big finale but still manages to rouse the crowd with his last song.

After seeing the Puta Madre Brothers two weeks or so ago at the Cherry Bar for their “last Australian show for the year” it was great news to hear they were playing again tonight. The room is full as they begin to set up their trademark three kickdrums. After everything is set the three men leave the stage in plain clothes only to return as the strange and grizzled trio that is the Puta Madre Brothers, each wearing matching jackets, slicked up hair and smears of black on their faces.

A dodgy pickup in an acoustic guitar marks the beginning of their set with one member forced to switch to an electric mid-song. The flamenco strumming on the acoustic shapes much of their mariachi style and their songs are lacking without it. They quickly recover, though, and their banter, in forced Mexican accents, between songs makes any mistakes forgivable. Broken Spanish is sung with energy about a range of ridiculous topics, one song title we are told translating loosely as “I am the fruit, you are the cheese”. Although they get many dancing, the trio don't quite raise the usual levels of intensity tonight but even so, after promising this really is their last show in Australia, they'll definitely be a one-man-band-band sorely missed until their return next year.

Bob Log lll in plain clothes begins to set up his foot cymbal, small kickdrum and an assortment of trigger pedals and an inflatable dingy is brought onstage and leant up the back - a sign for many in the crowd of what's to come. After the stage is set and he disappears the house music fades and we're met with the sound of fast-picked, distorted blues riffs coming from somewhere unknown. Looking around, a bunch of balloons appear above the heads of punters and begins moving through the crowd. The balloons reach the front and attached to them is Bob Log dressed in his trademark jumpsuit and space helmet. Gathering an almost superhero status over the years the reaction is massive as Log begins his set of loud, fast and distorted blues rock. Vocals sung into a telephone receiver attached to his helmet are unintelligible and his chugging open-tuned guitar hits our ears hard. At midway point, the inflatable is launched off the stage and a lucky punter rides it on the crowd. Bob Log is drawn onto it and it sinks under the increased weight, Log explaining shortly after that he got “folded”. The room begins to thin out a little as Log's set passes the hour mark, but the committed push even closer to the front. Plenty of banter ensues between Bob and the front row and many drinks are passed up to him, both he and the crowd becoming increasingly dishevelled. An unexpected cover of the house classic, Riverside, appears near the end and the inflatable dingy makes another appearance as it gets thrown around the room. At 1am, Bob and many others have had enough and he leaves as he arrives, wandering through the crowd, picking his guitar and leading a procession of very satisfied fans until he disappears into the bandroom.