Washington
The Zoo, Brisbane
Thursday 2 September 2010

Oh, Megan Washington. How you divide audiences. The singer and her band are riding high on popularity from both mainstream and indie audiences at the moment - this particular show sold out within 24 hours. No auxiliary dates were forthcoming; unlike Melbourne where Megan and band are playing a record-breaking five nights at the 850-capacity Corner Hotel.

Washington's debut LP, I Believe You Liar, is a diverse, clever take on piano-led, Vaudevillian-inspired pop, whose songs have an uncanny ability to lodge themselves into your brain. Tonight, evidently, this is a skill in high demand. Although both adoration and high expectations course throughout the packed room, the singer and her band sound wooden for the first four or so songs. “Fuck, I haven’t been this nervous at a show in ages,” she admits, allegedly owing to the high percentage of familiar faces in the crowd - the 24 year-old singer was Brisbane-based for much of the last decade.

Washington’s voice is the focal point at all times, and pushed high in the mix. But whether through nerves or otherwise, Washington tends to fluctuate wildly across her considerable vocal range on the more upbeat numbers - like opener ‘1997’ and ‘The Hardest Part’ - which lends an uneven feel at first. When she’s stationary and concentrating, as in her solo take on the beautiful, morose ‘Underground’ ("When I'm gone, don't weep and moan / Where I'm going is a pleasant stay"), it’s an altogether different story. This takes some getting used to, and it appears I’m not the only one taken aback: those expecting a pitch-perfect rendition of ...Liar tracks can only be disappointed. Yes, this show isn’t perfect. In fact her recent set at Splendour 2010 far outstrips tonight’s gig, on nearly every level (which isn’t to say that the band can no longer downsize their sound from huge tent to medium-sized room). But somehow tonight feels more genuine. It’s played more loosely; during the set’s second half, at least, once those onstage shake their nerves.

Washington is frank throughout; she takes several minutes to recount a story about going back to a drunk dude’s hotel room to play Mario Kart Wii, only to discover that it was a ruse; it’s announced that set closer ‘Sunday Best’ is about “having sex with my boyfriend”, and before an encore performance of The Divinyls’ ‘I Touch Myself’, she pre-emptively apologises to her in-attendance parents. It’s all very endearing, and it’d be a great act if she was acting. She’s not. Plainly, she’s a canny pianist with an ability to tell stories through song, and happily, she’s worked herself into the space to be able to communicate those stories to audiences. Big, adoring ones.

Andrew McMillen