Small Fry Rock gigs creating new live music fans, from the cradle to the rave
An all-ages concert series named Small Fry Rock is creating a generation of new music fans, starring some of Australia’s favourite rock ‘n’ roll artists.
As the clock nears midday at a popular inner-city music venue in Brisbane, evidence of a new movement is brewing in the beer garden. Beneath the painted mural celebrating iconic albums by local heroes The Saints, The Go-Betweens and Powderfinger, plenty of prams can be seen tucked away in corners, while snatches of excited children’s voices are heard above the hubbub.
Since opening in 2014, The Triffid has become known as one of the best live rooms in the Queensland capital – yet like most venues, all-ages shows tend to be an exception to its bulging concert calendar, rather than the norm.
Once night falls, the space will be filled with its usual clientele of punters who are old enough to buy a beer at the bar. Tonight, reformed Gold Coast heavy metal band Sunk Loto will play its first Brisbane show in 15 years to a capacity adults-only crowd of 800 headbangers.
On this sunny Saturday morning in late July, though, it’s a distinctly different vibe: throughout the venue, cups of colouring pencils are plonked on tables, encouraging young hands to fill in the white spaces between rainbows, giraffes and a bold font that reads Small Fry Rock.
That’s the name of this experimental event, which is today marking the occasion of its second Brisbane concert. As captured by its no-fuss motto of “gigs you can take your kids to”, Small Fry Rock was created by a music-loving mum on a mission to build a bridge between generations of music fans.
“I think once any regular concertgoer becomes a parent, they tend to disengage with the live music scene a little bit – not by choice, but by necessity,” says event founder Kristie Tainton, who booked artists at former Sydney rock ’n’ roll venue the Annandale Hotel between 2007 and 2012.
Late nights, newborns, drum kits and noisy guitar amps tend not to go so well together. But by flipping the script to daytime shows that leave plenty of time for afternoon naps for kids and parents alike, Tainton has devised something that everyone with ears can share.
“It’s created to offer families a love and appreciation of music, and that unique opportunity to experience live shows with their children,” she tells Review. “But it’s also aiming to provide disengaged parents with the chance to see the music that they love, without having to organise a babysitter or sacrifice valuable bonding time with their children.”
The concert series made its Sydney debut in March last year, at The Great Club in inner-city Marrickville, where amid Covid crowd restrictions and cancellations, Tainton managed to book gigs featuring the likes of Josh Pyke and Bob Evans.
With her family – husband Russ, daughter Edie, 5, and son Milo, 3 – Tainton moved to the Queensland capital earlier this year. The first show at The Triffid was held in May; moving forward, the series will share performers at dates across both venues.
Since the first concert, Tainton has emphasised to the artists that she’s not booking them to play kids’ music. Instead, they’re being hired to perform the original material for which they are known, and then it’s up to the individual how they want to engage with the all-ages concept.
Concerts aimed at kids are nothing new, of course: across 30 years, Sydney band The Wiggles have seen a million young faces and rocked ’em all around the world, while Melbourne sister duo Teeny Tiny Stevies are now four albums into a fine career of clever, catchy songs addressing real-life concerns of the preschool set.
The point of difference here is that Tainton is enlisting well-known Australian rock stars to perform for a much wider audience than the rowdy, beer-swilling mob who tend to buy tickets to their usual gigs, and it’s a challenge these musicians are relishing.
When folk/pop singer-songwriter Josh Pyke played his first Small Fry Rock show in May last year, for instance, he had the idea of demonstrating how he uses a pedal to record and loop sounds, and encouraged the younger members of the audience to come up and get involved in the noisemaking process.
“It actually got a little bit out of hand, because it was meant to be maybe one or two kids getting up and having a go,” he told me last year. “But kids don’t work like that: all of a sudden it turned into probably 40 kids lined up around the stage, like they were waiting for a ride or something.”
Ever the professional, Pyke went along with it; that part of the show played out for about five minutes, and was probably the lasting memory those participants took away from the event.
“I guess that was the novice in him, not having performed for kids before,” Tainton says, laughing at the memory. “That was definitely a highlight, because it gives the kids confidence: they were so involved in his performance, and they wanted to be a part of it. That’s embracing the whole concept of kids being comfortable in that environment. It’s just such a beautiful experience, standing back and watching it all unfold.”
What Tainton said earlier, about people tending to disengage from concertgoing once they become parents? That rings true for my core group of friends, with whom I shared many wonderful nights at life-affirming gigs and festivals during our freewheeling, midnight oil-burning 20s. But once kids arrived in our 30s, it had been years since we sang and danced together in a crowd, and many of our music-related conversations fell silent.
“One thing I wasn’t expecting about becoming a new parent, and maybe no one talks about it, but it’s the isolation that comes with it,” Tainton tells me. “I wasn’t prepared for all of a sudden being cut off from the things that I love doing, and I thought there must be other parents out there feeling the same thing.”
When Small Fry Rock landed in Brisbane in May, a small gang of my friends – four adults, and three of our kids aged three or under – wound back the clock in a darkened room scattered with colourful balloons and about 450 attendees.
There, one of Australia’s great rock frontmen. Tim Rogers, was up on stage as our guide, wearing a stylish green velvet jacket and shorts. He sang acoustic versions of You Am I classics and cracked jokes as “Uncle Tim”, while our gang happily shared something that was, for the adults, as familiar and comforting as a favourite pair of jeans, and new and exciting for our children.
“The series was built on the idea of bringing disconnected parents together, and building a community where we meet three to four times a year, like a musical appreciation parents’ group,” says Tainton. “Restarting that conversation with a bit of new music – but mainly nostalgia, which connects you to who you once were, like a warm hug.
“At the heart of Small Fry Rock is community, staying connected, nostalgia and family,” she says. “Honestly, I would never have thought sitting at the Annandale Hotel 12 years ago, as the venue booker, that booking kids’ shows would be in my future. But it’s because of that time that Small Fry Rock exists. Keeping those distant memories alive in my children.”
For the second edition at The Triffid in late July, Tainton has booked two more beloved 1990s alternative rock performers in Phil Jamieson, the frontman of Lismore-born band Grinspoon, and Adalita Srsen of Geelong act Magic Dirt.
The pair are old friends with a mutual fondness and extensive shared history, having performed to hundreds of thousands of rock fans at various Big Day Out festivals and, more recently, in a Rolling Stones Revue tribute band – but the audience at Small Fry Rock is a novelty.
“This is the first proper kid-focused show I’ve done,” says Srsen, 51, who is resplendent in a blue-and-black striped dress in the venue’s green room. “I’ll try to do a balance between the kids and the adults; I don’t want to do all kid-friendly things.”
With a conspiratorial smile, she says, “There are a few words that I’ll have to edit out, for sure – both in the songs and while I’m talking.”
Smartly, the shows operate to a strict schedule, advertised well in advance for routine-reliant parents. Doors open at 11am, and the first set starts at 11.30am for about 25 minutes. Following a brief changeover, there’s a 45-minute headline set and it’s all over by 1pm.
When Jamieson arrives backstage, wearing a rich green pinstriped suit and pink painted fingernails, he’s midway through a busy week.
The Grinspoon frontman has just released his debut solo album, titled Somebody Else, and has started an east coast tour that will include a night-time concert at a nearby venue named The Zoo.
But for now, guitar case in hand, he’s in two minds about his performance for the small fry out front. “I’m just trying to figure out what to do; I’ve written a set, but it could change,” says Jamieson, 45.
“Ultimately, I don’t really care about the parents – I want to entertain the kids, because I’m a child myself,” he says with a cackle. “I’ve written a bunch of songs and it depends on whether I want to engage early, or engage later.”
“Can you feel that as soon as you walk out?” Tainton asks, to which Jamieson replies, “Kids are terrifying to play in front of. There’s no bullshit with them. They’ll just turn their back on you, which is fine. They’re brutally honest.”
Asked whether he needs anything ahead of his performance, the singer-songwriter says, “I would love a bloody mary, if that’s OK? Spicy deliciousness to get me to go, ‘Hey kids – this is tomato juice!’”
“We’ll get you a really special red drink,” says Tainton with a smile, and before leaving the two performers to their devices, she gently prompts her daughter to present Jamieson with a small gift. “Thanks for playing,” Evie says quietly, and when the artist opens the bag, he theatrically exclaims, “I love socks!”
During her set, which draws largely from her two solo albums, Srsen elegantly loops and weaves guitar lines while playing a gorgeous brown Gibson SG. Flanked by two arcing rainbow balloons behind her, at one point she sits at the lip of the stage and plays the instrument directly in front of the wide-eyed little ones in the front row, who stare up at the rock star with awe.
Jamieson, meanwhile, strums a white Gretsch and mixes Grinspoon favourites such as Just Ace, No Reason and More Than You Are with his new solo songs, as well as a couple of truly crowd-pleasing covers: The Lion Sleeps Tonight and If You’re Happy and You Know It, both replete with ample audience participation.
Mid-set, he offers jokes (“Why doesn’t Elton John like cos lettuce? ’Cause he’s a rocket man!”), calls for another “adult tomato juice”, and eventually decides to engage directly by venturing into the crowd with his guitar, entirely removing the gap between the charming performer and his raft of new fans.
This turns out to be the biggest crowd at a Small Fry Rock gig so far, with about 500 people enjoying a couple of great performances pitched perfectly to satisfy ears young and old. At a peak of about 90 decibels, these shows are much quieter than your average 110db rock gig, although some of the more sensitive youngsters – including my son – opt to wear earmuffs for protection.
While the concert series is still in its infancy, with about 2400 tickets sold across the 10 shows held in both Sydney and Brisbane in the past 18 months, positive word-of-mouth abounds.
In December, Tainton received $99,506 from the federal government’s RISE grant program, with much of that money used for talent bookings and venue hire in both cities. Though not yet profitable, the shows are breaking even, and the gentle uptick in audiences suggests Tainton is onto a winning idea that fills a gap in the market.
As I watch Jamieson strut his stuff while perched in the mezzanine overlooking the floor, I smile at the thought that, for some of the children in the room, today might be the day that live music wraps itself around their little hearts and never lets go, kicking off a long life of concertgoing that they may someday pass onto small fry of their own.
Small Fry Rock is next held at The Great Club in Sydney (September 3) and The Triffid in Brisbane (September 10), with both shows headlined by Shihad frontman Jon Toogood.
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