A really shitty picture proving two things: 1) Nokia N95 8GB has the worst digital zoom of any phone ever; 2) Electronic music NEEDS FUCKING LIGHT.
Allow me to preface this review with a warning, or perhaps an admission of sorts: I am a bit of an electronic music noob. There is very little in the electronic genre that I listen to frequently, and even less that I’ve seen live (out of the hundreds of bands I’ve seen, this was probably the second electronic one).
But despite not being anywhere close to an electronic music connoisseur, M83’s Saturdays = Youth was one of my favourite records of 2008 with its mix of contagious dance and spacey ambience. And so it was with great enthusiasm that I went along to see Frenchman Anthony Gonzalez and his three friends kick up what I hoped to be an electronic storm at the Metro Theatre last night.
Even with the little knowledge on the topic that I have, I’ve always considered electronic music to be widely about spectacle. Everyone’s heard about the explosiveness of a Daft Punk concert, in terms of the combination of lights and music (did I just indirectly make a Cut Copy reference? Yeesh, sorry) – and arguably that’s what makes it such a huge event. The marriage of these infectious beats with several hundred badass light spasms is what gets people talking, right?
Apparently I really AM an electronic noob, because M83 proved to me that I was wrong. So, so wrong.
Accompanied by an additional bass guitarist, keyboard/vocalist and a drummer curiously seated behind a cage-like structure of Perspex glass, Gonzalez launched right into ‘Run Into Flowers’ to start the night off, bleeding slowly into the frenetic energy of ‘*’. The thing about watching a live electronic set is that sometimes they’re not actually doing all that much, with a lot of the electronic beats coming from a pre-recorded synth box, and so without lights there’s nothing really to watch – it sounds pretty amazing, but they’re not always playing and when they are, it’s not much to write home about in terms of visual titillation. And for almost the entire set the band stood in a dark purple light with little to no variation – which did match their huge spacey sound, at times, but generally didn’t give us anything to look at, either.
‘Kim & Jessie’, the deliciously ‘80s-flavoured lead single from Saturdays, was intensely let down by a job very poorly done at the mixing desk (and, in unrelated but equally annoying news, the photographer douche who insisted on snapping a photo of my boyfriend and me at the very moment it started. Jesus.). The huge soaring riff was made almost completely inaudible by a mix-up with the levels, and in the middle of the song the two singers’ voices were distorted to a high screech. What could have been an excellent performance song instead felt terribly lackluster – even in the parts where they weren’t fucking up, it just didn’t sound or feel like any fun at all.
I’m sounding horribly cynical, aren’t I? Truth be told, I did love a few moments – my favourite song of the set, ‘Graveyard Girl’, was an early arrival and the sound was so punchy and spot-on that, much to my self-disgust, it made me dance a little jig and smile a huge smile (EVEN DESPITE THE LACK OF LIGHTS, WHICH WOULD HAVE MADE IT SO RAD). ‘We Own the Sky’ (or, as Gonzalez sings it, zeeeee sky) was incredibly atmospheric and saw a definite vocal chemistry between Gonzalez and female vocalist Morgan Kibby, and ‘Teen Angst’ sent my brain flying somewhere up above the earth.
Also, can I just say that I really, really love French people and whenever Gonzalez nodded shyly at the crowd and said “sssssank you”, I melted a little. No seriously, I love French people.
But it was only at the very end, encoring with ‘Couleurs’, that M83 proved what the rest of the gig really could have been. With bursts of bright yellow light merging with the purple that shrouded them, as well as excellent sound, the one-song encore was as explosive and invigorating as I’d hoped the entire show would be.
Certainly it’s a step up from M83’s last visit to Australia just over a year ago where, playing in a Midnight Juggernauts support slot, they rocked up sans equipment and played for ten minutes before farewelling the crowd. Yeah, awesome.
But looking at last night’s gig non-comparatively, it was still a pretty big letdown. Clocking in at just under an hour altogether, what could have been one of the year’s most exciting gigs was instead a very mediocre one, let down further by shit sound guys and a lack of creativity on the visual performance side of things (which could have pushed it from okay to good, even great).
I feel almost the same way as I did at the end of that Ryan Adams gig in 2007 (with the lights being matchies, too). God damn.
Set:
Run Into Flowers
*
Graveyard Girl
We Own The Sky
Teen Angst
Don’t Save Us From the Flames
Kim & Jessie
A Guitar and a Heart
—
Couleurs
Josh Pyke is a likeable guy, there’s no doubt about it. The bearded bloke from Sydney has a solid and extremely dedicated fan base and a couple of ARIA awards under his belt, but he doesn’t let that inflate his ego on stage. Quite the opposite, really – going to a Josh Pyke show always feels like going down to the pub and having some beers and a yarn with old mates.
So it was with great enthusiasm that Sydney welcomed Josh back to the Metro Theatre these past two nights for the conclusion of his sold-out national tour supporting his latest release, 2008′s Chimney’s Afire. It was very evident that the audience couldn’t wait to be reunited with their favourite folk popster as they raucously applaused both support acts, 17-year-old singer-songwriter Jackson McLaren and playful Blue Mountains rockers Cloud Control. It’s truly heartwarming to see an audience warm so quickly to new musical faces, particularly young Jackson – that kind of encouragement is really what inspires budding musicians to push themselves to greater heights, and after witnessing exceedingly obnoxious reactions to support acts at recent events around Sydney, tonight’s enthusiasm revived my dying faith in punters.
But the biggest cheers were saved for Mr Pyke, with deafening applause meeting his arrival on stage. Kicking off with new album opener ‘Chimney’s Afire’, the next 90 minutes went by in a blur as the crowd sang delightedly along to Josh’s every word. Playing songs from both his full-length albums, as well as early recordings and material from older EP’s, there was something for every Pyke fan in the set list.
The real beauty about Josh Pyke’s music is that while it’s not really musically original or inventive, it’s got a real personality to it that shines through especially in a live context. The poetry of the lyrics is deliciously complemented by the completely laid-back vibe, and he’s got such a charismatic presence that it feels completely natural to sing along with him and feel a sense of personal connection.
That personal connection is also made so much more easily with the guy’s charm and gregariousness. Unlike other musicians who might only talk once or twice in a set to thank the crowd for coming along, Josh is a constant chatter and joker, taking photos of the crowd to commemorate the experience and wittily quipping often at his own expense. He began to play ‘Sew My Name’ at the wrong point in the set list, causing confusion for his guitarist – but when the guitarist didn’t play along, Josh joked “it was a test, you’re still in the band! I like to test my members in a live context”. He also paused to tune his guitar, using the silence as an opportunity to interview himself before ‘Variations’ and, in the encore, forgot the words in the chorus of ‘Fed and Watered’ and grabbed his head in mock frustration before launching back into it perfectly with the help of the band. This realness just hammers home the fact that he’s a guy who’s passionate about his music, but not to the point where it isolates him – he’s in it for the fun and he’s just as human as any of us.
Every time I’ve gone to see Josh Pyke I come out with the same impression, and that’s that this guy is serious about providing a fun and personal show for his fans. It’s a distinctly Australian experience in that the pretentious bullshit factor is low and the heart of it is so honest and accommodating – there’s no trouble at all seeing why and how he’s rapidly become one of the nation’s most loved contemporary players.
Set:
Chimney’s Afire
You Don’t Scare Me
Lines On Palms
Candle In Your Window
Forever Song
The Lighthouse Song
Our House Breathing
New Years Song
Memories and Dust
Make You Happy
Sew My Name
Parking Lots
Variations
Private Education
Don’t Wanna Let You Down
The Summer
Even In Corners
Where Two Oceans Meet
—
The Doldrums
Goldmines
Fed and Watered
Middle of the Hill
Photo: David Bennett
Coldplay really have become the biggest band in the world. The colossal commercial success of their latest release, 2008′s Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends, means they can charge $140 a ticket and still be able to sell out stadium shows with their legion of fiercely loyal followers – and that’s exactly what they’re doing this week. Returning for their first Australian visit since 2006′s Twisted Logic tour, the British supergroup are playing five packed-out shows at Sydney’s Acer Arena, beginning last night and ending on Sunday, to a 20 000 strong crowd each night.
But with growing popularity comes a wider fan base and, as last night’s show proved, Coldplay’s followers now include glitter-clad 12-year-olds pushing in front of annoyed punters in a vain attempt to find their mothers, and teenage girls chattering incessantly about all the unholy things they would do to singer Chris Martin. Irritating but not obnoxious – until the heckling began.
The support slots, filled by local post-punk group Decoder Ring and Buffalo dream-pop veterans Mercury Rev, were met with sarcastic cheers from the impatient crowd, with one particular teenage girl blocking her ears while her friend wailed “this is gross, I’m writing a letter of complaint!” Whilst Rev frontman Jonathan Donahue was admittedly quite ostentatious, it seemed that a vast majority of the audience were never willing to give him a chance anyway – and it’s a sad thing to witness when a city turns against the opportunity of discovering new music because of self-imposed walls. It’s also funny to note that Rev, formed in 1984, have been making music much longer than a lot of the haters have been alive.
Any hatred, however, instantly evaporated as soon as four shadows took to the stage, poised behind a thin veil. The crowd exploded as the band splashed into ‘Life in Technicolor’, kicking off a set that lasted close to two hours and included a steady mix of fan favourites. The stage setup was elaborately theatrical, as you’d expect a Coldplay concert to be – against a backdrop of the Viva cover, three large video balls hung (with similar balls and screens hanging from various parts of the arena roof) and a small antique television perched at the front of the stage also showed footage as it happened. The backdrop changed throughout the evening, with projection artwork, enormous video footage, dazzling block colours and a huge ‘VIVA LA VIDA’ making up just a few of its variations.
Martin, decked out in a beige shirt with a red V splattered on its front, was every bit the charismatic frontman, charmingly bantering between songs and leading the enchanted crowd in stadium sing-alongs of John Farnham’s ‘You’re The Voice’ and the Monkees’ ‘I’m A Believer’. Yellow confetti-filled balloons bounced above the audience as thousands of voices became one in singing ‘Yellow’,and the biggest cheers were saved for Viva La Vida‘s chart-topping title track, with lights illuminating the packed arena. The band also regularly departed the main stage for the two side platforms, and at one point went up into the stands, amidst speechless fans, for a three-song acoustic interlude (including drummer Will Champion taking the microphone for a dulcet rendition of Coldplay b-side ‘Death Will Never Conquer’).
But whilst this variation in performance did keep things interesting, the fact that they squeezed over 20 songs into less than two hours meant that there had to be some chopping and changing. ‘God Put A Smile Upon Your Face’ and ‘Talk’ were reinvented as techno remixes, whilst ‘The Hardest Part’ and ‘Speed of Sound’ were played acoustically (on piano and guitar, respectively) – but only in part. What this meant was that those in the audience who had not been to prior Coldplay concerts were left with an incomplete rendering of some favourite tracks – the boys deserve to be commended for their initiative in crafting a show distinctly separate from the recorded experience, but it sometimes felt a little too separate.
The set’s true highlight came near the end – after the acoustic interlude, the band returned to the main stage for an absolutely gorgeous ‘Lovers in Japan’, with cherry blossom projections flashing brightly on stage whilst rainbow butterfly-shaped confetti rained down onto the eager crowd. Whilst these kinds of props can be a little naff, Coldplay pull it off – what was, for the most part, a delightful evening was topped off by an adorably sweet shower of music and colour.
When at last they reached ‘Life in Technicolor ii’ after an encore performance of ‘The Scientist’, it felt as though the band had taken all present on a musical journey as the same riff that opened the show closed it. Obnoxious 12-year-olds and weird techno remixes aside, the rabid crowd enthusiasm and almost-note-perfect set last night proved that Coldplay have cemented their place as The New U2 – arguably the world’s most recognisable and accessible band.
Except that Chris Martin isn’t as much of a douche as Bono. Yet.
Set:
Life in Technicolor
Violet Hill
Clocks
In My Place
Yellow/You’re The Voice
Glass of Water
Cemeteries of London
42
Fix You
Strawberry Swing
God Put A Smile Upon Your Face
Talk
The Hardest Part
Postcards from Far Away
Viva La Vida
Lost!
Speed of Sound
I’m A Believer
Death Will Never Conquer
Viva La Vida (interlude)
—
Politik
Lovers in Japan
Death and All His Friends
—
The Scientist
Life in Technicolor II
The Escapist (outro)
I’ve loved Death Cab for Cutie for a number of years. The first time I was aware of them touring Australia, I was a few months shy of 18 and they, of course, played an 18+ show. The second time, August 2008, my expectations were so high that I walked away disappointed thanks to the somewhat mechanical feeling of the show, the poor acoustic balance at the Enmore, and the absence of some much loved tracks (and, not Death Cab’s fault, but the fact that my dear boyfriend was sick the whole time. Not because of the music, but still, not pleasant). The third time, at the exclusive Oxford Art Factory MySpace show, I was impressed – better sound, better set, better audience.
And so the fourth time rolled around last night at Sydney’s Enmore Theatre, my third time seeing them. And I was skeptical. Would I walk away with a smile on my dial, or would I walk away cursing the modern music scene and being the cynical old woman I’ve somehow become?
And to be honest, it was a bit of both. Over the past few years, Death Cab have formed a pretty solid fan base, ranging from the jaded old school indie gang to the 12-year-olds who are trying their best to emulate Seth Cohen. It shows as well – they went from 2 years between Australian tours to a mere 6 months, and a geeky chubster in Ben Gibbard to the gaunt Zooey Deschanel-dating hipster he currently is. Such a transformation isn’t particularly surprising, considering the great amount of exposure they’ve received in recent years.
Let’s first discuss what I consider the two big epic fails of last night’s concert.
The first is the audience. Yeah, yeah, call me an elitist, but something just wasn’t right. Maybe it was the underage couple on the barrier in front of me who wouldn’t give up the pash for a second during the entire night (pretty sure I saw tongue once or twice). Maybe it was the 16-year-old blonde girl in front of me who boasted loudly about getting a Van She set list, and then proceeded to fist-pump through all of Death Cab’s set whilst also singing extremely off-key, with hand actions, at inappropriate times. Maybe it was the pair of girls taking MySpace photos of themselves during the set. One thing to be said about the crowd is that they were certainly very excited to be there, as the raucous applause and screaming suggested, and it’s a positive feeling to be part of a mass that is obviously appreciative of the music – but at the same time, is it appropriate to sing along to ‘I Will Follow You Into The Dark’, breaking the delicate barrier between audience and singer? It’s a bit of a paradox in that enthusiasm is valued and being involved in gigs can be invigorating, but the average punter paid to hear Gibbard’s dulcet vocals, not a 16 year old girl’s hyperventilating shriek. Some food for thought there.
The second epic fail was a fault of the band’s tech staff – sticking a set list up on the amp in plain view of the crowd before the band had even reached the stage. Why this proved problematic was that a good many of the audience members, myself included, were unvoluntarily subjected to a list of what would be played, thus taking the surprise right out of the set list. I know that I myself immediately scanned the page for ‘What Sarah Said’, crucially lacking from the last two shows I attended, and the absence of it on this set list was an instant dampener on my mood. Note to techies – set list on floor or somewhere out of the audience’s line of vision, please.
As for the music itself, Death Cab certainly are a very tight-knit group who, having played together for over a decade, know each other intimately and are able to bring that closeness to their music. But the set was almost identical to the last Enmore show with the exception of a few songs, and the execution, whilst masterful, lacked in a crucial element – fun. Rarely communicating with the audience (except for the occasional ‘thank you’), it was just a run-of-the-mill 90 minute concert, with some sing-alongs to be had, but nothing to offer that was new or original – besides ‘Grapevine Fires’. In the wake of the bushfire tragedy, the line “the firemen worked a double shift / prayers for rain were on their lips / we knew it was only a matter of time” was much more poignant and hard-hitting – moments that are unintentionally reflective of current events rarely really happen at concerts, and when they do, they’re special.
There were several slip-ups during the night, like Chris Walla breaking into the wrong riff for ‘The Sound of Settling’ – whilst mistakes aren’t really anything to applaud, his embarrassed, awkward grin brought a more personal element to the performance. But other than that, it was all quite mechanical in a way – even the encore closer, the heartbreaking long-distance ballad ‘Transatlanticism’, felt a little trite, because it was exactly what they’d done last time.
So really, whilst the show last night had me singing in some parts and almost tearful in others, the only difference I can articulate between this show and the last is that my boyfriend wasn’t vomiting behind me last night. Death Cab for Cutie have a wide catalogue of music and there’s no doubt that they’re good at what they do, but unfortunately the live show leaves a lot to be desired, especially after seeing them on more than one occasion. After three times seeing them and only one of those times really blowing me away, I think it’s safe to say that next time they appear on our shores (who knows, maybe in the next 6 months again), I probably won’t be in attendance. Unless they finally play ‘What Sarah Said’.
Set:
Employment Pages
Your Heart Is An Empty Room
The New Year
We Laugh Indoors
Crooked Teeth
President of What?
No Sunlight
Grapevine Fires
Summer Skin
Soul Meets Body
I Will Possess Your Heart
Title and Registration
Cath…
Fake Frowns
Long Division
The Sound of Settling
Bixby Canyon Bridge
—
I Will Follow You Into The Dark
A Movie Script Ending
Transatlanticism
David Byrne has always been quirky, but he’s never been inaccessible. Coming to fame as the frontman of new wave outfit Talking Heads in the 70s, he’s turned heads with his crazy wardrobe choices, guest starred on The Simpsons and appeared on every Windows XP user’s computer by default with ‘Like Humans Do’.
And it seems that age is only improving him – after the release of his most recent collaboration with producer Brian Eno, Everything That Happens Will Happen Today, the eccentric white-haired funk veteran returned to Australian shores in the first week of February for the Songs of David Byrne and Brian Eno Tour.
Accompanied on stage by a full band, as well as backing singers and backflipping dancers (all wearing matching white outfits), the Big Suit’s return to Australia for the first time since 2005 exploded into force with a soulful rendition of the lead single from his new record, ‘Strange Overtones’. It proved a perfect way to introduce the man behind the music; as he sang the line “these grooves are out of fashion / these beats are 20 years old”, it was anyone’s guess that he’d spend the next 2 hours showing that while the second part of that particular lyric may be accurate, the first couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Showcasing material ranging from early Heads to the most recent record, the show spanned the entirety of Byrne’s prolific partnership with leading experimental musician and producer Eno. Comparing the new material with his last non-Heads collaboration with Eno, 1981′s My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, it really feels worlds apart. Ditching avant-garde experimentation for lush melodies and the occasional nod to their roots, Byrne and Eno have this time around crafted a record that is accessible to a newer generation, whilst not isolating the old either – something evidenced by the variety of audience members, from grey-haired dads to flannel-wearing hipsters who no doubt raved about the show on Last.FM afterwards.
Whether it was the Dadaist poetry of ‘I Zimbra’, the eruptive schizophrenia of ‘Crosseyed and Painless’ or the dulcet cynicism of ‘Heaven’, the musical palates of the Heads fans in the room were whetted with a selection of tunes from the three Eno-produced albums. Byrne’s voice, not weakened with age, rang out through the Opera House hall with ecstasy as he recapped some of his finest moments, with the biggest cheers saved for Remain in Light anthem ‘Once in a Lifetime’ and the light-heartedly cynical ‘Life During Wartime’ getting most, if not all, punters on their feet. Possibly the closest to Stop Making Sense most of us will ever get – and what a day it was.
Playing a strong mix of Heads and new songs, as well as material from Bush of Ghosts and his 1981 Twyla Tharp dance score The Catherine Wheel, Byrne held the audience in the palm of his hand as he achieved the perfect balance between the lunatic of old and the soulful crooner of new – who would ever have guessed he’d settle down like this?
But it wasn’t until the end that he proved that hey, he’s really just the same as he ever was – when the lights came up for the second encore there he was, 56-year-old David Byrne, in a white tutu along with the rest of his band. Prancing in his little skirt whilst performing an ecstatic rendition of ‘Burning Down the House’, Byrne showed that he’s still as nutty and relevant as ever – here’s to a gent who will continue to remain in light as long as he lives.
18 months ago, Ryan Adams was the first boy to ever truly break my heart. I was a bright-eyed 18-year-old in my first year of university when it happened. It was at the Enmore Theatre, and he appeared on stage before me in terribly poor lighting, playing an uninspired, unemotional set. And then someone shouted for ‘Summer of 69′, and he stormed off the stage. I never really got over my first heartbreak. I actually cried leaving the venue and headed straight for the nearest pub to drown my sorrows.
So it’s understandable that I hesitated before taking the plunge and buying a ticket to see the alt-country rocker with the infamous mood swings when he returned to the Enmore this month. And as it turned out, he placed a bandaid right over my open wound. I can love again.
Opening with Gold ballad ‘When The Stars Go Blue’, Adams and his band The Cardinals were in fine form, performing with impenetrable congruency. But considering that the last show also started off with gasps praising the band’s musical cohesion, I remained skeptical. Until people in the audience started heckling – and Adams light-heartedly joked back at them.
SORRY, WHAT?!
Yes, it’s true – the moody drunk has a sense of humour. Once it was certain that he was in a good mood, the atmosphere of the concert lifted completely – and spirits were raised even higher when the band ripped out classics from Adams’ debut album Heartbreaker (ironic?), harmonicas and all. There was plenty of singer-audience banter to be had, including a fellow who yelled out to Adams that he’d changed ‘Oh My Sweet Carolina’ to ‘Oh My Sweet Alexandra’ for his wedding song, something that old Mr Moody said changed his views on the song forever. Laughter rang out through the theatre at regular intervals throughout the 2-hour set, but all laughter subsided to be taken over by quiet awe when Adams sat down, alone, to play his haunting cover of Oasis’ ‘Wonderwall’.
The set comprised material from the new Cardinals record Cardinology, but was mainly composed of songs from Adams’ solo albums – something that set this concert apart from the last, in which material under the Ryan Adams name was noticeably lacking. Though there were no songs from 29 or Rock n Roll, the band played a wide variety of much-loved songs that were missing from the 2008 gig.
The rumour mill has been spitting out talk of the Cardinals’ imminent break-up for the past few weeks, and if this turns out to be their last ever Sydney show, fans present will surely harbour fond memories of Adams – even though his last few visits were marked by furious tantrums, this one made up for all his wrongdoings in the past.
I think Ryan himself summed it up best when he said, before ripping into ‘Born Into A Light’: “A Cardinals song is like a glass of orange juice: it’s good for you, it’s delicious, and it’s sunshiney”.
More orange juice, please, Mr Adams.
Imagine this – you’re dating a guy, everything’s going peachily well, and then you hit a rough patch and break up. Does he disappear to the pub for weeks on a massive bender? Does he go on the rebound with countless nameless faces? Nope – he runs off for three months to the remote woodlands of Wisconsin and, in solitude, records an album.
This unique coping mechanism has become musical legend as the rise of folk singer Justin Vernon, better known by his stage name Bon Iver. Since the release of For Emma, Forever Ago in 2007, Vernon and his band have been embraced by popular music media and played sold out shows around the globe. The band’s first Australian tour came to Sydney this week as a part of the Sydney Festival, with four sold out shows played at the The Famous Spiegeltent and City Recital Hall.
It was difficult to know what to expect from a live Bon Iver experience, considering the depressing content of For Emma. But from the opening chords of ‘Flume’, Vernon had the audience wrapped around his finger. Live, the lo-fi loneliness of the songs fade, replaced by the lushness of strummed electric guitar – but Vernon’s wraith-like falsetto remains, delicately floating above the wave of sound below. His natural deeper voice, as demonstrated in a note-perfect ‘Creature Fear’, is just as beautiful and moving. An early highlight was first single ‘Skinny Love’, with Vernon taking to the ukelele whilst his bandmates adopted a pair of bongos. The emotion in his voice verges on overwhelming – his hurt, after all, was what inspired the creation of such a rawly honest album that has both soothed and saddened many.
But what was especially surprising about the show was Vernon’s warmness – rather than the sensitive introvert he appears to be on record, he proved light-hearted and lively on stage, speaking of his enthusiasm for Australia and his surprise at his swift rise to fame. Dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans, he enlisted the crowd’s help in singing the refrain of ‘The Wolves (Act I and II)’ – an audience participation activity one probably would not have expected at a Bon Iver show. As his voice hung softly in the air, so too did the collective voice of thousands of spellbound punters, from teenage hipsters to middle-aged couples.
Playing most of the songs from For Emma, as well as three of the four from recent EP Blood Bank, Vernon stepped aside for drummer Sean Carey to take the microphone for an explosive cover of Talk Talk’s ‘I Believe In You’. Whilst it did break the soft soliloquy that Vernon had weaved throughout the evening, the cover provided a brief insight into the dynamics of the band, as well as serving as a tribute to one of Bon Iver’s many influences.
The band encored with a rousing electric rendition of ‘Blood Bank’, and the audience was out of the venue by 8:30pm as there was a Cinematic Orchestra gig scheduled to begin. Judging by the animated chatter in the foyer after the show, though, it was much later than 8:30 that the crowd would forget what they had witnessed that night. I’m willing to bet they won’t be forgetting any time soon.
Set:
Flume
Lump Sum
Beach Baby
The Wolves (Act I and II)
Skinny Love
Babys
Creature Fear/Team
Re: Stacks
I Believe In You
For Emma
—
Blood Bank
Stars are cute. Yep, cute. There aren’t too many acts you’d describe that way these days, for fear of being accused of condescension or being responsible for a complete artistic write-off, but Stars actually make a conscious effort to come across that way – and it pays off, big time.
After their last visit for St Jerome’s in 2008, the Montreal quintet returned to Australian shores in the first week of January to kick off what promises to be an explosive year of live music. Stopping by at Sydney’s Factory Theatre on the first Saturday of the year, the indie popsters played a show as warm as the summer weather itself and left the audience drizzled in contented joy.
Opening acts Bridezilla and Firekites each shared their brand of whimsical, floaty indie rock – the former mixing it up with a saxophone and violin, the latter a pleasant beach-like breeze. Bridezilla’s members are all pretty much just fresh out of high school, but you wouldn’t guess it if you closed your eyes – vocalist Holiday Sidewinder’s breathy vocals could easily be mistaken for someone twice her age, and instrumentalists Daisy Tulley and Millie Hall, on violin and sax respectively, add a unique twist to the indie pop formula. Firekites showcased tunes from their 2008 stunner The Bowery, with luscious strings soaring over quiet, almost whispered vocals. Both openers were perfect companions to the balmy weather and got the crowd relaxed enough to be whisked away by the performance to come.
Appropriately, the band’s arrival was marked by Amy Millan breathily sighing “the night starts here…” before launching into a close to 2 hour set, spanning the band’s career right up to their latest release, 2008’s Sad Robots EP. Millan and fellow singer Torquil Campbell are a delight to watch together – whether they’re harmonising or making onstage jabs at each other, it’s clear that they are very much friends as much as they are professional partners. White petals and roses rained down on the crowd throughout the performance as the band threw flowers through the air, and there was a feeling of community about the way Campbell and Millan interacted, most clearly communicated in the he-she final song before the encore, ‘Your Ex-Lover is Dead’.
Campbell, clearly under the influence, was an absolute riot. His onstage banter ranged from self-analytical (“can I wear vertical stripes with horizontal stripes?”) to playful mocking (“perfect vision, perfect pitch – Amy Millan, she’s too fucking perfect!”) to self-deprecating as he thanked the audience for not going to the Fleet Foxes concert instead, “because they’re fucking awesome and we wouldn’t stand a chance”. It’s safe to say that he is the glue that holds the band together – during ‘Calendar Girl’ in the encore, he jumped down from the stage and waded his way to the middle of the crowd, repeatedly screaming “I’m alive” as he sat in the centre of a circle with fans sitting all around him. It’s this kind of dynamism that separates the live Stars experience from the regular old album spin – Stars are one of those bands that offer two distinctly separate realms through each medium, and that’s certainly something to aspire to.
Though the standout album closer ‘In Our Bedroom After the War’ was noticeably missing from the set, it was a stellar performance from one of indie rock’s most adorably charming bands and one which has set the benchmark for the year to come.
Whilst other kids his age were playing in the park and trading baseball cards, he was stirring up a legacy. He self-released his first full-length album at age 12 on what has evolved today into Saddle Creek Records, one of indie rock’s most respected labels. He had made three more records and taken part in four semi-successful bands, all before his 16th birthday.
It’s clear that Conor Oberst was no ordinary child, and now, over a decade down the track, he’s showing no signs of slowing down.
After riding on the wave of his critically acclaimed outfit Bright Eyes for the past few years (and picking up a horde of finally-someone-who-understands-me angsty teenage fans), he released an album under his own name again this year with new bandmates The Mystic Valley Band, and brought his tight collection of new songs to Australia this October – his first visit since 2005’s Bright Eyes tour.
Photo: Alan Zeino
It is a rare gift to be able to move an audience to tears when the language you speak is not theirs – or anybody else’s, for that matter. Anyone else singing in gibberish might be dismissed as a lunatic, but when it is done with such ardour, such passion, the voice ceases to be just a voice and becomes a vessel. Everything that is known about music is forgotten as a whole new world blossoms under the fingertips of Icelandic quartet Sigur Rós.
Ranging from ghostly to apocalyptic, the band’s Hordern Pavilion performance last night was testament to the fact that there is no such thing as musical boundary. Opening with the stirring wraithlike ‘Svefn-g-englar’, the four modest musicians invited the audience to revel in a two hour set, conjuring emotions soaring from elation to loneliness to a quaint mixture of both.
Joined occasionally by four friends in white on brass, Sigur Rós and their companions showed an unprecedented level of creativity as they each showcased their abilities on multiple instruments, from piano to glockenspiel to the accompanying tuba. Singer Jónsi Birgisson’s voice performed acrobatics as he moved from sawing on the guitar with a cello bow, to tinkering away at a wooden toy piano; bassist Georg Hólm redefined slap bass on ‘Hafsól’, hammering at his instrument with a drumstick. The result of marrying such unlikely elements was dazzlingly surreal, a far cry from the perfunctory sounds of today’s chart music.
Sigur Rós paid tribute to their early career, playing songs reaching back to 1997’s Von, as well as showcasing their latest effort, með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust. ‘Hoppipolla’, perhaps one of the band’s best known songs, resonated through the pavilion, the audience singing along to its hauntingly playful tones; six thousand voices rang out, singing words they did not understand, did not need to understand. When musicians this heartfelt share their stories, words are redundant.
But the most enchanting moment came near the very end, when Jónsi told the audience that he would be needing their help with the next song. Enter ‘Gobbledigook’, the opener from the latest album – a mischievous tune complete with ‘la, la, la’ singalongs and childlike hand claps. When the instruments stopped at the song’s climax, confetti rained down into the crowd and it was a moment of infinity. Smiles bloomed like springtime from sullen faces, couples squeezed hands tighter and tears were sure to form in the eyes of even the most hardened cynics. Six thousand strangers stood in a room whilst eight musicians grinned on stage, and it felt, in those few seconds, like we had known each other all along.
It is a rare gift to be blessed with to realise that despite being mortal, otherworldly experiences can still be claimed whilst alive. When it feels like the world is crashing down and being created all at once, when tears can roll freely down cheeks, when your heart feels bigger than it ever has – it is a rare gift to know that your life as you know it has changed forever, and all it took was two hours.
Set:
Svefn-g-Englar
Glosoli
Se Lest
Ny Batteri
við spilum endalaust
Hoppípolla
Með Bloðnasir
Festival
Fljótavík
Saeglopur
Inni Mer Syngur Vitleysingur
Hafsól
Gobbledigook
—
Popplagið
—
All Alright
