Hair Of The Dog Live: A Ripping Aussie Gem That Still Kicks
Let’s cut to the chase. Hair Of The Dog Live by Various isn’t your run-of-the-mill live album—it’s a scrappy, raw snapshot of late ‘80s Australian rock and pop vibes. Released in 1989 under Punters Records, this sucker is like flipping through an old photo album full of faded Polaroids from some legendary house party you weren’t invited to but wish you had been. With tracks that range from punchy power chords to heartfelt ballads, it feels alive—like the musicians were sweating right there in front of you.
Now, I gotta say, two tunes really stuck with me after spinning this bad boy: “Powderfinger” and “Summer.”
First up, “Powderfinger.” Yeah, yeah, we all know Neil Young owns that title too, but hear me out. This version doesn’t try to compete with the classics; instead, it leans into its own swagger. It’s got guts—raw guitar riffs slicing through the mix while the vocals wobble just enough to remind you it’s LIVE. There’s something about how they stretch out those choruses—it’s messy, sure, but isn’t that what live music’s supposed to be? Like catching lightning in a bottle without worrying if the cap fits perfectly.
Then there’s “Summer.” Man, this one hits different. Imagine cruising down a sunburnt highway somewhere near Byron Bay, windows down, wind messing up your hair. That’s the vibe. The melody hooks you quick, and before long, you’re humming along even though you don’t mean to. It’s not overly complicated—it’s just good, solid storytelling wrapped in warm harmonies. You can almost smell the salt air when the chorus kicks in. Damn, now I wanna grab a cold beer and watch the sunset.
Props where props are due—the crew behind the scenes nailed their bits. Mark Woods on recording duties must’ve worked overtime to capture the energy without losing clarity. And hats off to Andrew Till for the slick layout and design because, let’s face it, no one wants to stare at ugly cover art. Oh, and shoutout to Bert Di Poolo, Martin Saunders, and Robert De Gregorio for snapping pics that scream “we didn’t sleep last night.”
But here’s the kicker. Listening to Hair Of The Dog Live feels like stepping back into a world where gigs weren’t curated playlists brought to life—they were wild, unpredictable, and real. No autotune safety nets, no overproduced nonsense. Just humans making noise together. In today’s algorithm-driven streaming hellscape, albums like this feel kinda rebellious.
So do yourself a favor. Throw this record on, crank the volume, and pretend you’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder in a sticky-floored pub somewhere in Melbourne circa 1989. Who knows? Maybe you’ll discover why these moments mattered—and still do.
Oh, and hey—if anyone finds a time machine, hit me up. I’ve got a few questions for these guys… like who ate the last meat pie backstage?
