It wasn’t part of the Vivid festival but I somehow found myself back at the Opera House yet again last night. This time it was to see Martha Wainwright. If you don’t know Martha’s background, or understand the source of her musical DNA, read this.
She was incredibly good. Her songs are very personal, with beautiful melodies. Most of her style comes from an acoustic singer-songwriter place. She did play several solo songs, but on the rest her backing band gave her enough scale and oomph to provide some dynamics.
More dynamics came from a couple of Edith Piaf songs in the middle of the set, as well as a guest slot she gave to Brighter Later (who didn’t get to open the night as the Opera House now frowns on this apparently). Plus she gave us her version of Nick Cave’s “The Ship Song”.
Martha is a great live performer: funny and engaging between songs, expressive and full of movement during them. Her vocals are very authentic, just raw enough but with control that comes from both talent and practice. There was banter with her husband (who’s in the band), jokes about brother Rufus, a stage visit from her kid (more show business DNA, it seems), and a discovery that performing lying down is quite comfortable.
Both her parents got appropriate nods: Martha closed her main set with her mother’s last song, the delicate “Proserpina” (the video is below), and finished the encore with a less delicate song about her dad.
She was wacky, endearing, and a musical force. It was an impressive evening.
Alan Lomax was a folklorist and collector of American field recordings. Any student of US roots music will know his name: the music and stories he collected in the ’40s and ’50s for the Archive of American Folk Song at the Library of Congress was a driving force for the popularity of blues and folk music in the ’60s.
A collective of musicians from America (and one from Canada) played two concerts on the weekend as part of the Vivid festival that paid homage to the music that Lomax uncovered for us. That show was called Sounds of the South, and I caught the Sunday afternoon show.
The assembled 13 musicians played a set of songs inspired by the Alan Lomax recordings. Almost none were straight covers; they were, instead, rocked-up, jazzed-up, or psyched-up. Almost all worked really well, resulting in blues-, gospel-, or folk-based tunes that showed how these themes have influenced modern music. They were exciting. There were multi-part harmonies. There were tales of sadness, and sung prayers of joy.
The middle section didn’t work for me. It got a little too free-form and discordant. I was constantly reminded of Spinal Tap’s jazz odyssey.
But most of it was really good. Vernon and Ford’s singing were highlights, as were all three brass players in Fight the Big Bull. They (mostly) found a great balance of homage and reinterpretation. And they encored with The Band’s “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down”.
It was the sort of rare event that keeps me coming back to Vivid.
Here’s an excellent video of one of the songs – performed a few years ago – that was one of the highlights the other night; Vernon singing Mississippi Fred McDowell’s “When You Get Home Please Write Me A Few of Your Lines”. It starts as a near-acoustic cover, then morphs into a jazz-rock groove.
I had only vaguely heard of Geoffrey Gurrumul Yunupingu when I saw his concert listed for Vivid. My better half suggested we go, so I got tickets and then learned more about him. Gurrumul is an Indigenous Australian musician who sings in the Yolngu language (he apparently knows very little English). He’s from an island off the coast of Arnhem Land. He was born blind. He sings the songs of his people, in their language, though sometimes performed in a Western folk-music way. He plays several instruments, but mostly guitar.
And he sings in a high, otherworldly voice that sends shivers down my spine.
Last night’s show was a world premiere: not only Gurrumul and his band, but with accompaniment by some of the Sydney Symphony. This created a lush, powerful swell behind the songs. Gurrumul’s beautiful singing came through every song, whether it was an Aboriginal chant, or an ancestral tale set to a folk-pop rhythm or a reggae tune. There were video segments of his family explaining what each song was about, which gave the audience context. His songs are not political; they’re expressions of his culture, so that context meant a lot.
Gurrumul reserved his voice entirely for his songs but for a quick thank you at the end. It was a very special show.
Here’s a small sample of a performance from a few years back, to give you a tiny idea of what he was like before he got big in 2008. It might be hard to imagine this with a symphony behind him, but it really worked.
Vivid Sydney is one of my favourite annual events in this city: a festival of music, lights, and ideas just as autumn turns into winter.
My first event this year was seeing electronic music pioneers Kraftwerk live. Their performance is called The Catalogue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8. In it they play two shows a night for four nights, with each performance focusing on playing live the entirety of one of their most influential albums (Autobahn (1974), Radio-Activity (1975), Trans-Europe Express (1977), The Man-Machine (1978), Computer World (1981), Techno Pop (1986), The Mix (1991) and Tour de France (2003)) followed by whatever hits are left over. They’ve done this in recent years in Germany, the USA and the UK, and now it’s Australia’s turn. Demand was so high people had to enter a lottery just to be able to get the chance to buy tickets.
A mate and I put in for two different nights, and I was lucky enough to get one. With my four ticket limit purchased, we saw them play Radio-Activity on Friday night, the second show on the first night.
Wow. It was far more engaging and interesting than you’d expect four middle-aged German guys standing behind podiums playing minimal electro could be.
Kraftwerk are called seminal for good reason. They practically introduced electronica to the public, or at least were certainly the first to make it popular. Despite it being minimal, repetitive, and half in German, it was fascinating. They always focused on themes, especially the way that technology is changing our lives, so there’s meaning there to grab hold of. And they created all the necessary pop elements with their device sounds, transforming machine noise to songs. Watching them play live was very much like watching Black Sabbath or The Stooges recently: I was awestruck to witness the artists who invented a musical form.
The songs were so cool, and sounded great in a theatre specially wired for 5.1 surround sound. Crisp audio precision and lush synth sounds filled the room, immersing us in the techno world of these visionaries. You could hear echoes of all the electronic music that’s been made ever since.
What made it extra-exciting was that the music was accompanied by a full-on big-screen 3D video presentation behind the band. Every song contained visual elements bursting out at the audience, as we wore Kraftwerk-logoed cardboard bi-colour glasses. Cars and spaceships and computers all whizzed around our heads. What a treat.
They first played all the tracks from Radio-Activity, an exploration of broadcast communications as it was in the mid-’70s. This album really got them going down the electro-robot music path, and I find it one of their darker and moody ones. It was excellent.
Then they rolled out just about every hit the assembled crowd could have asked for from across the rest of the albums that they’d play in their entirety on other nights, plus a few others. We got “Autobahn”, of course, plus “Trans-Europe Express”, “Spacelab”, “The Model”, “The Man Machine”, “Computer World”, “Numbers”, ”Musique Non-Stop”, and “Tour de France”.
But nothing surpassed the cold machine funk of “The Robots”. It was a super groove, electronic blip elements that you recognise immediately from having been sampled so much, and freaky 3D visuals. Listening to the track alone just isn’t the same, but here it is.
Kraftwerk themselves barely moved, and only really showed their humanity – a few words, bows, and smiles – at the end. But that’s all we wanted from them. These guys are true artists. I’m so glad that they’re still able to package an amazing and inventive performance.
Last weekend I managed to catch guitar goddess (there’s a rare phrase) Kaki King at the Basement. Although I’d run a half-marathon that morning I was determined to see this musical whiz live.
She was freaky good. You’ve definitely got to be a guitar fan as she rarely sings but does incredible things to anything with strings. She’s a virtuoso and a collector of styles, using both melody and rhythm in her playing.
Here, just look at this:
Her songs – all performed solo with her on guitar – were formed around loops (though manual, organic ones, mostly). She finds jazz-inflected grooves and wraps a pop-rock song around them, building and swooping. King really is sort of on her own as a genre: thoughtful acoustic geek guitar, if I have to call it something.
She’s a geek because of her guitar obsession. Nearly everything she played was odd: the Ovation Adamas 1581-KK she designed, one she modified with an extra bridge so that each string can play two notes a fifth apart, a 12-string, a 7-string she has made to spec because she likes low-tuning, and one with Moog-designed transducers that induce feedback to the strings. She’s also a geek because she likes maths and stuff (she admitted she gets annoyed when New Agers ask her if her crop circle-design guitar is because of a belief in alien visitors when it’s because of her love of nerdy geometry enthusiasts).
She’s a mean axe-wielder after my own nerdy heart.
In the continuing theme of “seeing musical legends before they die” a few mates and I got ourselves out to Olympic Park last night to see the first Black Sabbath tour of Australia since 1973.
1973.
The opening act was some NZ ’90s hard rock outfit called Shihad. We only caught their last song. Meh.
Then, because my mate Vince is charming as hell, he got all our nosebleed rooftop seats swapped for way-down lower-bowl right-beside-the-stage seats. Well done, Vince! A prompt start by Sabbath meant we missed the first few riffs of “War Pigs” as we moved, but we soon settled in.
Geezer Butler, Ozzy Osbourne, and Tony Iommi.
What followed next was legendary metal with a bit of awkward farce thrown in.
I was really impressed by the band. Tony and Geezer still have it, completely. The guitar riffs were dark and epic. The bass was fuzzy and menacing. Original drummer Bill Ward declined to take part but Tommy Clufetos did the metal drummer thing to perfection, including a 7-minute strobe-powered solo.
Ozzy’s voice was better than I expected, mostly. He can still hit the notes, and he’s largely intelligible, and his tone fits the unsettling music just right, as it did on the albums all those decades ago.
I remind myself several times during the night that these guys invented this stuff. Countless generations of black T-shirt wearing metal bands and fans owe a massive debt to those arpeggio riffs, to those minor-keyed laments of alienation, to all those tempo changes. Black Sabbath came out 43 years ago. It was awesome to hear it played live by the guys who dreamt it up, and to hear them still being able to lay it down.
“Children of the Grave”, “N.I.B.”, Black Sabbath”, “Fairies Wear Boots”, and encore “Paranoid” were thrilling highlights to hear.
Downsides: Ozzy gets a little annoying. It’s fascinating to watch his shambolic shuffling about and fun to watch him throw buckets of water on the audience. He’s as energetic as any other mid-60s frontman out there (except Iggy) especially considering that he’s spent so many decades in a chemical fog. But it’s still tiring to hear him ask us to “Show me your fucking hands!” or “Go fucking crazy!” over and over and over again. His crowd banter is pretty limited and repetitive.
Also, he wasn’t on top form for “Electric Funeral” or, sadly, “Iron Man”. And the new songs, plus iffy mid-career tracks like “Dirty Women”, weren’t great. The show slumped in a few of these songs.
But overall the good was much bigger than the bad. I got to see musical legends do what they did, and what they still do, live. The show was fun and good-natured (metal shows I’ve attended are always the most friendly) and epic. We thrashed and sang and shook and fist-pumped and yelled. Dark, brooding riffery has been part of the musical landscape as long as I’ve been alive; I’m glad its creators got to show me how it’s done.
You can see a couple of videos from the crowd in the embedded YouTubes below. Rock on.
Last night I saw another great artist doing sideshows after Byron Bay: Bonnie Raitt. It was a significant change from The Stooges.
The opening act was a substantial set from R&B legend Mavis Staples. And yes, anyone who started performing as a member of The Staples Singers family in 1950 is a legend. She and her tight band served up a whole bunch of gospel soul. It was polished but heartfelt, a classy old-school set of songs that appealed to pop as much as civil rights protests as much as God. Mavis can still holler. They did a stirring version of The Band’s “The Weight”, and pledged some love to the departed Levon Helm. And Bonnie Raitt even came out early to play “Will the Circle Be Unbroken?” with Mavis and the band.
Bonnie was soon out for her own set, though. Most people know of Raitt through her easy-listening blues-pop hits since the early ’90s, though she had been recording – and critically acclaimed, if never commercially successful – for two decades before that. She’s a comfortable songwriter and performer, a competent bottleneck slide guitarist, and has a knack for introducing a variety of musical styles into her songs in a really approachable way.
All of these aspects came out on stage. She never missed a beat, even with some ostensible on-stage confusion as she changed the setlist. Everything just seemed cool and smooth, every guitar lick sounded great. Bonnie herself sounded and looked amazing (for any age, we agreed, not just the 63 years she actually is).
The close proximity to the previous night’s punk antics made some of it a little too smooth for me, maybe. But you can’t hate Raitt, nor chastise her overmuch for being classy and caring about tone. She is the anti-Iggy.
Of course she played “Have a Heart”, “Thing Called Love”, “I Can’t Make You Love Me”, and “Something To Talk About”. I was surprised she didn’t do “Love Letter” or “Love Sneakin’ Up On You”, but those are pretty lightweight hits so nothing was lost.
Highlights for me were songs that can serve as near bookends: her 1974 version of John Prine’s “Angel From Montgomery” was beautiful, and her 2012 rendition of Bob Dylan’s “Million Miles” was spookily intense. You can watch live versions of both of these, from a show last year, below.
Note that “Million Miles” is one of two songs on her last release, Slipstream, that are covers from Dylan’s Time Out Of Mind album (the other being “Standing in the Doorway”). Good taste, Bonnie.
The blues – in one of its many and varied forms – lives on in Bonnie Raitt.
I’m seeing some of the big acts in the country for the Byron Bay Bluesfest as they do sideshows here in Sydney. Last night was – at last – my chance to see the Godfathers of Punk, Iggy and the Stooges.
First up was Beasts of Bourbon. Tex Perkins is one of those musical gems that never really made it outside Australia. I’d never heard of him until I saw him in a Johnny Cash tribute here a few years ago. But last night I became a convert to the Beasts. It was primal pub rock with punk sensibilities. Tex’s growl, the insanely loud guitar drone, and verse after chorus of profane, nihilistic blues made some of the best stuff I’ve ever heard that came out of the ’80s. I’m sorry I missed it. They opened with “Chase the Dragon“, kept the pace with songs like “I Told You So” and the newer “I Don’t Care About Nothing Anymore“, and closed with the nutty “Let’s Get Funky“.
Then, The Stooges. I remember hearing whispers about these guys from my cousins as a kid. How they were the most insane band ever, how Iggy had been institutionalised. Later I heard their music and saw how they took rock to its next, necessary evolutionary step.
I saw it written this week that The Stooges were, in the late ’60s, the first rock ‘n’ roll band to be completely devoid of any of the R&B influence, and I think that’s exactly right. It’s raucous, dangerous, everything that’s rough and scary and confrontational about rock music and nothing that’s groovy. Iggy Pop is the frontman that Mick Jagger and Jim Morrison gave birth to. Altogether it had to spawn punk, and that gave popular rock music the shot it needed.
Last night they (and “they” has, other than Iggy and drummer Scott Asheton, changed a lot over the years) showed that The Stooges’ vision remains a pure one. And “primal” remained the word of the night. The band are all old guys but they rock hard enough that my ears are still ringing today. They provided the aggressive aural world in which Iggy Pop could writhe and taunt and scream and spit and do things that no 65-year-old ex-junkie should be able to do.
“Raw Power” and “Gimme Danger” were fun and brutal and noisy and joyous. The three-song run of “Search and Destroy“, “1970″ and “Fun House” with its usual stage-dancing crowd invitation was one of the most powerful live things I’ve witnessed. Closing the main set with “I Wanna Be Your Dog” and “No Fun” was brilliant. Even new song “Burn” was pretty cool.
Here’s the band playing “1970″ a little more than a year ago. Primal energy, love it or hate it: see what I mean?
Iggy and the Stooges: does what it says on the tin.
Bonus video: Iggy Pop and Tom Waits try to out-cool each other in Jim Jarmusch’s “Coffee and Cigarettes”.
Kristian Matsson is a singer-songwriter from Sweden who performs as The Tallest Man On Earth. He is, in fact, very small.
Irony aside, I enjoy TTMOE’s songs a lot. They’re quite troubadour folk-y, very Dylan-esque. His voice is heartfelt and unique, and it makes the songs feel ethereal. His lyrics turn some very clever phrases, and his instrumentation is simple yet accomplished. Matsson typically just sings and plays guitar, or occasionally piano, with no other accompaniment. The Dylan thing is really striking, especially when he includes lyrics about “boots of Spanish leather” and when you find out that his wife Amanda Bergman performs under the name Idiot Wind.
He had a show at the Opera House last night that I found out about late in the game. Luckily one became available at the last minute and I was able to sneak along.
The Tallest Man On Earth. Photo from Sydney Opera House.
I found TTMOE live a more rewarding experience than I’d expected. It’s just Matsson with his voice and guitar, and a piano for one song. But he swings his tiny body all around the stage, strumming and spinning his legs and his guitar, ducking and diving. It’s a far more expressive use of the stage than just sitting and playing and singing. It endeared him to the crowd, as did his sips of tea (or of whatever was in that cup) and his assertion that Swedes are discouraged from feeling overly proud of anything.
He started strong with “King of Spain” but covered all his albums (highlights: “I Won’t Be Found” from Shallow Grave, “The Wild Hunt” from The Wild Hunt, and “1904″ from There’s No Leaving Now). He sounded great live, clear and vibrant, and he put lots of dynamics – volume and tempo – into the performance. We got one last highlight at the end when Bergman came out and duetted much of Paul Simon’s “Graceland” inserted at the end of “The Wild Hunt”. So pretty.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen so strong and spontaneous a standing ovation at the Opera House.
Last night was another music event for this year’s Sydney Festival. Like last weekend’s Kashmere Stage Band show this one was all about funk and was held at the great performance space in Sydney’s Town Hall.
The first act was Saskwatch. They’re from Melbourne, and are a nine-piece funk and soul band. I’d heard them on the radio and they sounded OK; live they were a whole other deal. They laid down some pretty good grooves. But the absolute star of this band is singer Nkechi Anele. Oh. My. God. She was passionate and powerful. Her voice was so strong, her soul sound so intense. And she moved and danced like no performer I’ve ever seen. She was a non-stop dervish of hip-shaking sexiness. Her moves punctuated her singing which punctuated the band’s songs. Saskwatch are amazing. Watch and listen.
Then were the headliners: Osaka Monaurail. They’re a Japanese funk band, and they live and breathe it. Lead singer Ryo Nakata has run this band for 20 years, with a rotating cast of musicians, but this one – like all of them – becomes a full-on ’70s-era funk machine. If you closed your eyes you would be entirely forgiven for thinking you were at an early James Brown show. Nakata grunts and yells; the horn players spin their trumpets on their fingers like pistols; the guitar players come up for solos. They were seriously tight. And when Nakata was in full flow he could shimmy, sing, bounce his mic stand, and do the splits in his dapper suit right on cue.
We got a surprise visit from UK-born, Melbourne-based Shirley Davis, with whom Osaka Monaurail made a single. She was a burst of vocal energy and jazz into the proceedings, a nice change of pace.
The one down side of this set was that Nakata’s in-between-songs shtick, storytelling, and joking with the horn section would sometimes go on uncomfortably long. This did make a few crowd members restless. But when the band kicked back in they killed it, with a fun, genuine, soulful set.
In the 1970′s a music teacher at Kashmere High School in Texas decided to inspire and challenge his music program kids. He did, and they became one of the most acclaimed funk bands in the US for a few years. They even travelled overseas to perform. I have some of their recordings and they are phenomenal.
In 2008 some of those band members reformed the band, to perform an inspirational concert for that music teacher that gave them so much. And someone else made a documentary about that, called Thunder Soul.
Last night, at Town Hall, Sydney Festival staged a great event: a showing of that documentary, followed by a concert of the still-reformed and touring Kashmere Stage Band. I was there.
The film was touching. It’s a great illustration of how a great teacher can make a great difference, how kids can rise to the occasion, how lessons stick with you through life, and how it’s better to thank people while they’re alive.
Kashmere Stage Band
The concert immediately after was a whole lotta funk. They played some of the classic KSB songs like “Zero Point”, as well as funk classics that inspired them (a lot of Sly and James, obviously). They’re all middle-aged guys now, obviously, but they had a lot of fun making us sing and dance. They still had their synchronised horn moves, and the funky steps that set them apart as performers from the more staid high school bands of the ’70s.
Even after all these years you can’t fake the funk.
I’d seen posters around for the Illawarra Folk Festival (caution: that link has a loud autoplay video, turn your volume down). I thought for quite a while about going but then decided against it. It was a bit of money, I’m more of a blues fan, and I’m seeing quite a lot of events this month already for Sydney Festival.
But then the good folks over at review site Yelp had a competition for weekend pass tickets. And I was able to take an extra day off from work this week because my employer has a policy of giving you a day off on the anniversary of your start date. So I entered the competition.
And I won. Hoo-RAH!
The festival was only about 80 minutes down the coast, so we booked a B&B for the weekend and headed out Friday morning. That day was the hottest in Sydney’s history, with the mercury hitting 45.8 degrees Celsius. It was only a couple of degrees cooler where we were, so we spent much of Friday at Austinmer beach. Mostly in the water.
But Friday afternoon and evening, all day Saturday, and half of Sunday we spent wandering the tents and sites of the Illawarra Folk Festival. This is the largest volunteer-run folk festival in Australia. It certainly has that “little festival” feel. The vibe was great. Everything was close together. It was easy to get to and park each day. None of the queues were too long. And show times kept pretty close to schedule.
Ruby Boots
The music acts ran a pretty big gamut, though all had some roots in folk. Most were Australian acts but a few were from overseas. I was as pleased with the quality of performers as I was with the laid-back festival atmosphere. Given its proximity to Sydney I would definitely visit this festival again.
Here’s a very brief run-down on the acts I saw at least a few songs from (in roughly the order I saw them).
Teifon & Gareth. Two 19-year-olds from NSW. Tangos, Irish reels, and lots of ukelele.
Mike McClellan. A popular, long-running, award-winning Australian folk legend, apparently. Pleasant enough, but a little more genteel than I like.
Mzaza. Brisbane six-piece with French, Spanish, Turkish and other influences, and mostly sung in French. Loved the middle eastern instrumentation.
Vardos. Balkan string outfit, full of laments, laughs, and audience participation.
Shalani. This local girl is 10 years old. She sings others’ country songs, writes her own with her mom about the ocean, and is saving up to buy a pony. Sweet.
Fiona Boyes. HOT DAMN. One of the festival highlights. An Australian woman who plays like she was part of Muddy’s band. I’ve never heard anyone growl and yowl through Howlin’ Wolf’s “Smokestack Lightnin’” like that. Nor tell a story about how a Reverend Gary Davis song brought her and her partner together. Fiona is a wicked guitar player and had a huge performing personality, too. She is the real blues deal.
Dylan Hekimian. 18-year-old from Canberra. He plays a whip-fast acoustic guitar, with a whole lot of hand-slapping percussion against this guitar body. I took some video:
Gregory Page. Classy, jazz/blues/folk singer from the US. His stories and style and easy manner made for a charming, nostalgic set.
Mustered Courage. Really good bluegrass guys from Melbourne with great harmonies, and a fun cover of Queen’s “Fat-Bottomed Girls”. Here’s one of their other songs:
The Ballpoint Penguins. Comedy a capella trio made me laugh with songs about jellyfish, bottled water, kids who won’t move out, and wine. I’ve got a feeling my mom might have told me about these guys before.
Ray Marshall & the Bluegrass Deputies. Ray is genuine old-timey bluegrass with some local help.
The Lurkers. Bluegrass, but not as you’d care to know it. This was the only act I really didn’t like. I left after a song and a half.
Tommy Polden. 13-year-old local writes thoughtful little songs about monsters and other things that kids think about.
The Go Set. Wow! More a punk band than folk, but they’ve got bagpipes and a bodhrán. They made the big tent explode, and rocked hard and fast. The crowd loved the high energy. And they finished with a cover of the best rock song with bagpipes: AC/DC’s “It’s A Long Way To The Top (If You Wanna Rock ‘n’ Roll)”.
Paul Mbenna & Okapi Guitar Band. Paul was a singer in Tazania before moving to Australia a few years ago. Now performing with the Okapi Guitar band, Australia’s longest-running Afro-pop group, they made joyful, funky, jangly, danceable African grooves. And jokes in Swahili.
Jeff Lang. I missed his full band set on Saturday because the tent was overflowing, but caught his Sunday morning set with just him and his bassist. He was a virtuosic folk/blues guitar player, with some intense sounds.
Dom Flemons. Festival highlight. Incredible. Caught his last song or two the previous day, so ensured I caught his whole set this time, and decided to call it quits afterwards. Flemons is from the US, and is part of the Grammy-winning Carolina Chocolate Drops. He is the real deal: steeped 100% in old-time hillbilly music, Appalachian banjo styles, early jazz, and every bit of roots Americana that informed everything that came after. He was engaging, and wide-eyed, and charming, and really pleased to be here. He blew me away. Check this out:
It was an amazing festival to see for free. Thanks again, Yelp.
Last night was our first event for Sydney Festival 2013. It was one of the free weekend concerts they stage in downtown park The Domain. It’s always a great excuse to pack a picnic and stake a grassy spot with friends while hearing some great tunes. That’s just what we did.
It was busy by the time we arrived in the early evening and we had to get our earlier-arrived friends to come get us to get in an area reasonably close to the front. I’m always pleased to see so many people come out and take advantage of these free music shows.
The opening accompaniment to our sausage and cheese and wine was Sydney group Slowpoke Rodriguez. They played very mellow, groovy jazz. It was good background music.
The main event were three performers who could each do a fantastic show on their own: Angélique Kidjo, Dianne Reeves and Lizz Wright. These ladies met on the jazz/R&B/soul/world music circuits and found they really enjoyed performing together. So last night we got all three.
And they were great. They sang songs that influenced them, including many soul and R&B classic, Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams”, Bob Dylan’s “Gotta serve Somebody” and a few of their own. They were soulful, enthusiastic, and charming. Their voices covered the whole range. Some songs were done solo, some as duets, some with all three.
It was perfect music for a gorgeous Saturday night in the park with a few thousand other festival fans. And it was a great start to the festival.
I’ve been in awe of Swedish sister folk duo First Aid Kit since the first time I heard them and I have blogged about them before. It’s incredible that ladies so young could have such a deep sense of folk and roots music but they do.
Last night I finally saw them live at the Opera House with a bunch of friends who also appreciate good music. They were fantastic.
First Aid Kit. Click to embigggen.
The perfectly genetically-matched harmonies were stronger live than on their recordings. While many songs sound the same it’s a great sound. The tone of the performance was emotional, coming as much from the girls’ disbelief at playing a sold-out Opera House as from the heartfelt lyrics of loss.
They were engaging without being overly cheesy. They came forward to take advantage of the House’s acoustics by singing “Ghost Town” without amplification. They asked us to sing along to songs like “Emmylou”. They smiled and told stories and made me shiver when they covered Simon & Garfunkel’s “America”. And it’s not many performances that get a shout out to Richard Dawkins.
First Aid Kit. Click to embiggen.
I find it encouraging that there are still young performers who can be successful doing the type of music that they love and not just what’s likely to be popular. Good luck girls.
Abbe May is a musician from Western Australia. I found her name in an article praising her last album, Design Desire, which came out in mid-2011. I checked it out and absolutely loved it: Abbe has an intense, soulful voice, and is a wicked guitar player. That album is a swirling mix of blues and rock, punctuated and punchy. I’m told her previous band, The Rockin’ Pneumonia, was very bluesy too (I like blues).
Then a few weeks ago Abbe released a new song, “Karmageddon“, from upcoming album Kiss My Apocalypse. It was fantastic too, but in quite a different way: all the reviews call her new sound doom-pop, and that’s pretty apt. It’s dark and catchy and repetitive and buzzy and sexy. I love it when artists grow, and was excited that she was adding a whole new sound to her repertoire, especially such a good sound.
When she announced a tour, with a Sydney date at tiny Goodgod Small Club, I bought tickets immediately. That show was last night.
The support act was Shy Panther. They were a group of young guys: a singer, two keyboardists/synthists, a bassist, and two drummers. They did a trip-hop sort of thing, but with perhaps jazzier influences, and lots of falsetto vocals. It was OK, but a bit distant and same-y and never really took off for me.
After they finished I got right up front in preparation for Abbe. I got a shot of the setlist as the crew taped it to the floor:
Wait a minute, I thought. I don’t recognise any songs from Design Desire on there.
Sure enough, Abbe and her band came out and played a set of songs that I presume are entirely from Kiss My Apocalypse. They were all in the same heavy, sexy, fuzzed-out vein as “Karmageddon”. There was nothing from Design Desire (or, I assume, any earlier albums). Abbe did not play guitar (her brother did), she only sang.
Abbe May and band
I was a little disappointed by this. This isn’t Abbe’s fault: I only found out about her recently. If I’d done so 2 years ago I’m sure I could have seen her play lots of rockin’ blues guitar shows. But she’s obviously gone in a new direction, and she’s clearly trying out her news songs in a live setting.
On the downside: On first listen none of the songs struck me as quite as good as “Karmageddon” (and the pre-recorded multi-track vocals even on that song made it impossible to tell if she was actually singing it live). There was a similarity of sound amongst the songs. The volume levels got ‘way overboard near the end, with more distortion than they intended, I think. And the band only played for about 40 minutes with no encore.
On the upside: Abbe is a powerful singer, and it was amazing to see and hear her up close. She’s not afraid to throw in lots of non-verbal vocal punctuations (“oohs”, “ahs” and yelps) for the sake of ramping up the emotion (that’s gotta help when you have a song called “Sex Tourette’s”). The songs have a pulsing, moody vibe that sticks up a middle finger to the mainstream and is yet compelling to those with a love for the groove. Her cover of The Motels’ “Total Control” was hot. And I’m certain that her parents were beside me, in front row centre (family support is nice).
Abbe May
All in all I left a little disappointed because I’d hoped to hear a mix of music from Abbe May’s already amazing output. That’s a comment on my experience, not on her capability, though, because the new songs are really creative and catchy too. Maybe after the new album comes out she’ll tour again with a mix of music old and new. Or maybe she’s cut ties with the past and is striking out in this direction, never to look back, and I missed my chance. I like it when artists move on, so I can’t whinge when they do, I guess.
You probably know John C. Reilly as an actor. He’s made quite a career in Hollywood, doing films both serious (The Thin Red Line, Magnolia, Gangs of New York, We Need To Talk About Kevin) and silly (Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, Step Brothers). He’s here in Australia now promoting the new Disney videogame homage film Wreck-It Ralph.
I did not know that Reilly is also a great lover – and performer – of old-time roots music. And on his promotional tour for the film he’s taking the opportunity to play a couple of shows. I heard on fbi radio yesterday that the Sydney show was that night, and only 5 minutes from my house at the Factory Theatre, so I went.
First up was Australian singer-songwriter Steve Smyth. I’d heard just one of his songs before, that morning on fbi, but liked it. He’s a beardy bloke with a guitar and deep, wistful moods, a bit like Bonnie Prince Billy. But his vocal dynamics were incredible, and as often as not he’d bear down and growl and channel more than a little Tom Waits. The first video on his media page, labelled A Pop Up Performance, is “Barbituate Cowboy and His Dark Horses”, is the song I heard on the radio and the first tune he played. He was pretty bewitching.
Next was a surprise comedy interlude from Sarah Silverman, who’s also in the country to promote Wreck-It Ralph. She has a short 10- or 15-minute bit, and was, as expected, hilariously offensive.
Without delay, John C. Reilly & Friends – those friends being Tom Brosseau and Becky Stark – came out and ran through a big list of old-time folk, blues, and country. It was a bit disconcerting at first to see the smiling face of Reilly croon and strum. But it quickly became clear that he has genuine musical roots; that he has a deep love for timeless music, and gets a great thrill from playing it live for people.
The three musicians played in close physical and musical harmony, all leaning into a mic and adjusting their guitars to work around each other. They played old songs from Johnny Cash, Dolly Parton, the Everley Brothers, Claude Ely, and several others. I was surprised and pleased that I didn’t know most of the songs; they were gems pulled from influential artists’ work, not just crowd-pleasing hits. I did know “Blues Stay Away From Me” by the Delmore Brothers, “The Wayward Wind” by Patsy Cline, and “Crying Time” by Buck Owens.
Crowd-pleasing wasn’t a problem, though. The songs were all eminently listenable, and touching in that maudlin old-time way. The assembled room of fans listened closely to each gentle phrase (and the funny, ham-fisted Reilly guitar solo) and exploded in applause and hoots after each song finished. Big closer “Goodnight, Irene” got us all singing and classing and swaying along.
Thank you, Walt Disney Company, for bringing John C. Reilly here and letting him out for a night.
Last night’s gig was a deep immersion into blues-rock guitar; daunting territory for the timid, but right up my alley. It might be a daggy alley, but at least I know where I’m going.
I’d heard Joe Bonamassa’s name before, but hadn’t investigated what he was about until a work mate – whose love of the blues immediately made me trust his musical taste – said that Joe was his favourite guitarist. I listened to some tracks, was wowed by the six-string wizardry on display, and bought myself a front-row ticket for the State Theatre last night.
Claude Hay (trust me)
First up was Blue Mountains one-man band Claude Hay, who I think I’ve now seen five times. Claude seems to be the go-to guy to support anything rootsy: he’s opened recently here for Matt Andersen, Great Big Sea, and Seasick Steve. I’m still amazed by his slide guitar, picking, bass, bongo, kickdrum, and looping proficiency. He only got four songs last night, but he gave it his all (and was still as charming as ever).
Joe Bonamassa
And then – right on time, with only a 10-minute interlude, no rock star egos here – Joe Bonamassa came out and his band followed (in dribs and drabs). He started with a handful of acoustic songs. I didn’t find these songs terribly engaging, as they featured a lot of straight strumming; it could have been anyone. And Joe’s lyrics aren’t the star of the show, though his voice is very good. “Dislocated Boy” was OK, but it was only when he hit “Woke Up Dreaming” at the end that he started to show off. But look, as a warm-up it was probably the right thing to do for him and for the crowd.
But when the full electric band kicked off “Slow Train”, followed by “Dust Bowl” I was right where I wanted to be. The fingers were flying, the strings were bending, and Joe – hidden behind his shades until the final bow – was grimacing with every fret-ripping blur of his hand.
My favourites, beyond those first two songs, were “The Ballad of John Henry” and the final song, ZZ Top’s “Just Got Paid”. I didn’t take notes, but I think last night’s setlist matched the Brisbane one pretty closely; I’m sure some super fans can confirm.
Joe delivers full-on power with blinding guitar speed; he plays hard and loud, full-electric blues-rock, just like the British blues wave that he was influenced by. He and his solid backing band often sounded as much like Zeppelin as the old blues masters, and they even blasted us with a healthy doze of “Dazed and Confused” to prove it during “Just Got Paid”. The State Theatre crowd rushed the stage for the encore songs, probably a pretty rare occurrence for that reserved venue.
It’s clear that extensive guitar wankery isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. This music is a holdover from a past age, and I was in the lower percentile of attendee age last night. But Joe is one of the best guitarists I’ve ever seen, and he’s a good showman, a good singer, and a great interpreter of blues-rock. It was six-string glorious enough to deliver, and to probably satisfy my guitar craving for a good long while.
A couple of nights ago a few friends and I caught Flight of the Conchords at their very first-ever Australian show at the Opera House.
Most people learned about the New Zealand folk-comedy musical duo via their HBO show of the same name, which featured them in wacky situations living in NYC, interspersed with their funny homage songs.
None of those TV skits were reproduced here, though. Their live tour is more about the music, which is how their original comedy act and radio shows were structured. There was silly banter between songs, but the music is the main focus of these shows.
Bret and Jemaine did a good job of performing most of my favourites, like “Too Many Dicks On The Dance Floor” and “The Most Beautiful Girl (In The Room)” (though I really missed “Foux de Fafa”). Special effects and costumes were low-key (probably home-made). Some of the songs in the middle of the set were weaker, and I tuned out a bit. But the wry, bizarre, self-deprecating humour would re-appear quickly, and all was forgiven. If you like enjoy musical artist parodies and their style of humour (which is much cleverer than Weird Al, for instance), then seeing these guys live is as funny as you’d expect and hope.
The raging finales of “Demon Lover” and an extended, grinding, audience-participation (to a point) of “Sugalumps” were both catchy and hilarious.
Arj Baker, the US comedian who was in the show, also did some warm-up standup, and contributed to a couple of songs. Fun.
For your enjoyment, here’s a cool remix of “Business Time”.
My second Vivid Sydney gig was last night, back at the Opera House.
The first act was a bloke called Chet Faker and his band. Chet plays gentle, groovy indie. It’s sort of like nu-trip-hop, delivered with breathy, raspy, soft vocals. Chet is, it seems, blowing up. It wasn’t the sort of thing to get you amped up, but it was pleasant enough. The highlight for me was definitely their cover of Blackstreet’s “No Diggity”.
The main act was one of the biggest Australian breakouts of the last few years, The Temper Trap, in their first of two Opera House nights for Vivid. “Sweet Disposition”, from first album Conditions, was a pretty bit hit in several parts of the world, and was used all over movies and TV. I liked Conditions a great deal, and with their second, eponymous album out soon, it seemed like a perfect show to go to.
It was pretty good. Mostly.
The Temper Trap
Look, if you’ve heard “Sweet Disposition”, which is likely, you’ve heard everything that’s fantastic about The Temper Trap: the joyous guitars, the upbeat rhythms, and Dougy Mandagi’s soul-lifting falsetto. But they’re a one-trick pony. It’s a very good trick, make no mistake. Listening to their first album at home is a great experience because if it starts sounding a bit familiar it slips into background music. But at a live show you want more than a one-trick pony.
I detect a little change in the new album’s songs, but it’s still quite similar. Each song heard on its own makes you think WOW THIS IS FANTASTIC. And it is. But each one’s a little too much like the last fantastic song you heard from them. Mandagi has just one wonderful, thrilling, uplifting mood when he sings. The Temper Trap is like Coldplay, but good.
One other quibble: the light show was big time overkill. There were lots, very bright, pure white, right behind the band, blasting right into our eyes. I love a good light show so I’m not being a fuddy-duddy here. Last night was distracting, annoying, painful, interruptive, and way too much.
I think that I was probably very spoiled by seeing the phenomenal Janelle Monae in the same hall a few days ago. That show was full of dynamics and showmanship.
I’ll continue to play The Temper Trap a lot at home. And I’d welcome them at a festival slot where I got just a handful of wonderful songs. But seeing them play such similar tunes song after song starts to have a numbing effect, which is unfortunate. I look forward to hearing their sound diversify further.
Check out a couple of the new songs from The Temper Trap below.
