SPUNK records presents 'Another Night On Earth'
FBi fundraiser show
The Metro, Sydney NSW
Sunday 7th June
Like a wan, folky beacon in the stormy sea of the Global Financial Crisis, The Metro theatre in Sydney housed Spunk records FBi radio fundraising clarion call to the city's indie-pop glitterati. Come they did, filling the venue on this Sunday of a long weekend to see shortened, (20-30 minute) sets from some the label's high profile Australian bands, as well as some brand name ring-ins, hot flushes of youth and fringe dwellers.
With twenty or so bands over two stages on the bill there was no way to catch every act, despite (or perhaps because) of their shortened sets and best intentions. But it was a good feeling, this sense of urgency. Bands had to give their all in the space of perhaps a third of their normal playing time; enough to impart to the crowd what they're on about as well as try and find their own groove. Us too. Do you stay in the theatre and watch the seasoned performer in lieu of the new kids yelling out the back? Or do you park yourself in front of the smaller forum stage at the expense of perhaps missing some of the highlights in the main room? We played it by ear and wandered around at whim, nursing beers and catching ears along the way. Here's a few things that stuck:
Melbourne songwriter Grand Salvo was opening up proceedings on the main stage when we walked in early, and seemingly in step with those around us, we were enthralled as ever with Paddy Mann's pastoral tales of desperation, love and loss. Mann stood alone on the giant stage strumming a harmonium and looking to the lights. Backed by those words he still somehow cuts an imposing figure on his lonesome. Pop surrealist Greg Walker aka Machine Translations would cut a similar figure immediately after Mann, if a warmer, more inviting one. So too local guy Fergus Brown, who played out the back to an healthy crowd in the carefully dilapidated "forum" section of the venue, and whose collective finished with a rousing ensemble of grins.
The nimble sounds of Newcastle's Firekites would've perhaps worked a little better on the smaller stage, or at least its sound system. So far away up there on the main stage one couldn't hear any of their delicate movements the way they're intended; a.k.a acoustically. Instead it was filtered through the large PA and it fudged them of that delicate balance between hushed organics and squalling rock guitars. Still, their confidence and tour chops had the generous crowd in their spell and a barrage of guitar from frontman Tim McPhee in the final song fastened the exclamation point on their the set nicely.
Back in the forum cave exciteable locals Megastick Fanfare seemed to have been listening to a LOT of Animal Collective. But as a friend quipped approvingly "if you're gonna listen to a lot of something..." Should they harness their experimentation and tribal fanfare and fashion a hard and fast direction out of it...they'll be kind've formidable. We caught a glimpse of a strutting, suited Jack Ladder howling out the front of a new band made up of members of The Scare, on the way to one of our most anticipated viewings in Sydney experimental pop guys Ghoul. Which didn't quite pan out the way we'd hoped. How could it? Their free download LP last year, A Mouthful of Gold, was a shimmering excursion in clinical, deconstructed pop; an airless, studio sculpture that blossomed from its carefully controlled seed. It was disappointing then to see it reduced to booming drums and rattling guitars, just like anyone else. With an additional sort've evocation of the current afri-pop sweeping the indie-set, rather than the precious, safe creature it is in the studio.
I'm not sure what I was expecting from Adelaide's Leader Cheetah - maybe some of the moody Neil Young-esque songcraft threaded through their album Bloodlines. It definitely wasn't hints of cocksure 90s brit-pop casualties Suede; pomp, strut and vocal cries that didn't quite match up with the soft rock coming off stage. Sally Seltman drew a large crowd for her solo piano return as New Buffalo, while back on the forum stage Sherlock's Daughter were shimmying and shaking their mascara-pop/hacienda flecked swirl of pop tunes. Frontwoman Tanyo Horo oozes smiles, the guitarist wrings out his reverb and...there's that hint of tribal psychedelia again. In fact the spectre of Animal Collective hangs over the forum stage all day (or at least until The Holy Soul come stab it away with their jarring take on nocturnal ruminations) and it permeates the flavour of these newer bands. Not to mention pile up the array of MPCs, KAOSS pads, Korgs and percussion instruments that litter the stage like a Brooklyn garage sale.
By the time The Middle East assembled their seven selves on stage the Metro theatre was packed. You know, as if everyone had come to see them, at their gig. The "word" is evidently "out" on this band from Townsville, with but a five song EP still filtering on to shelves. Judging from the massive size of the crowd (only rivaled by Sarah Blasko at the end of the night) and the roar after each of their songs (erupting out of the pin-drop silence held for the duration of every one of their cinematic excursions) the word was: "good". The band filled the room with their sound, but instead of bashing their way to the rafters like some of their contemporaries tonight, they simply let it drift, their multi-layered, epic sound catching in everyone's chests. If they aren't playing their own sold out show here in a year's time I'll be shocked.
Soon afterwards Holly Throsby held a devoted audience in the main on the eve of jetting off on a world tour the next morning, with some particularly spicy guitar work from Belles Will Ring guitarist Aidan Roots complementing Throsby's sparse songs perfectly. Looking every inch the porcelain marionette of her publicity shots, Sarah Blasko reminded everyone of at least one thing; she sure is a striking performer. Fronting a large band that included banjo and strings, Blasko ran through several new songs that, if not welling with melody and range, assembled a vivid portrait through more skeletal frameworks than some of her lush back catalogue. Bodes well for the album. She finished with a dead quiet, piano version of 'Explain' that leveled the crowd, even despite her goofy clutching of a piece of paper with the lyrics on it. Or maybe because of it. It has been a while.
As a fundraising exercise it was surely a success. Volunteers lugged buckets around the venue collecting coins, MC Henry Wagons chastened and implored the crowd between bands to donate, and the acts enjoyed the festival-type atmosphere without the weight of performing under their own steam. And if the glut of new bands on the smaller stage are any indication as to the health of this community borne from FBi, then may the station - and synth pads - flourish.
(Pics: Will Reichelt)