We're Friendly Now

Augie March
Melbourne Recital Centre
April 17, 2015

You know you've come full circle when you've followed a band from playing dodgy little cigarette smoke-infested pubs all the way through to the comfort of a "sit-down" theatre show. There's a time when I could easily reel off exact dates of gigs, but I actually had to go back and look up when we actually last saw them at Howler (October last year), playing their first batch of sellout shows after a long hiatus. They have always enjoyed critical praise and an ardent following from loyal fans, but it seems as if the shove into the media spotlight, largely thanks to the commercial success of "One Crowded Hour" from Moo, You Bloody Choir was both a blessing and a curse that infected their subsequent release, Watch Me Disappear, after which, funnily enough, they more or less did.

It was always going to be unusual having to sit in the one spot during corkers like the rollicking "This Train Will Be Taking No Passengers" or the gorgeous "Hobart Obit", which brings to mind eras past, such as the 1940s or 50s.  Similarly, so do rare gems such as "Owen's Lament" and "Never Been Sad", the latter played with its languid video clip as the backdrop. The intervening six years might have seen Glenn Richards give up the booze and cigarettes, but the perfectionist was still on show, with his characteristic rueful shakes of the head at those technical glitches that any adoring fan would happily forgive, that is, if they even noticed them.  Dave Williams continues to be the foil for Glenn's gruffness, at one stage going into what I thought would be the start of "Villa Adriana", but alas ended up as his drum solo, maybe not going any further due to some dud tuning on Glenn's part.

As I remarked on Friday night, we've aged better than some other longtime fans, and it's hard to believe that the band's first album, Sunset Studies, came out all the way back in 2000. Back then, what alerted me to this band with the funny name was "Asleep In Perfection", which as far as I knew at the time, was actually performed by a solo singer-songwriter by the name of Augie March. Up until Friday night, I'd never actually heard it played live, and 15 years later it's still as wistful and romantic as it was the first time I heard it. While writing this, I went to look up the meaning of the word "obit" (it's short for obituary) and read some of Glenn's lyrics - like Tom Waits and Neil Young, Richards has been writing songs that belie his (relatively still young) age, drenched with a sophisticated vocabulary and numerous literary references. If you think back to the stuff he was writing back in the mid-90s when Augie March were formed, it's as if he has always been an old soul, finding himself in the wrong era.

I vividly remember listening to "The Good Gardener" on repeat for an entire weekend some time back in 2002 after what I remember as being one of my favourite Augie March gigs (it was either at the Corner or Empress). You know when you've been listening to something for quite a while, but not really being hit with its full might and beauty until you finally "get it" after hearing it live on a particular occasion? Years later, particularly with the excellent support from the guys on horns that also feature heavily on Strange Bird, it still has the same emotional impact, as does "The Devil In Me", which comes from Watch Me Disappear, maybe relatively under-rated because it is largely associated with the band's apparent implosion.

Beginning the main set with "Definitive History" might have been considered a dubious choice, with its unsettling subject matter, but it worked. These days, everyone is a music reviewer, and the song that repeatedly gets commented on from Havens Dumb is this one. Everyone who listens to it is likely to interpret its meaning a little differently, but a few reviews I've read have suggested this is Glenn's rumination on the Howard years, and the closest to political commentary he's come so far. I'm still not sure, but to my ears, it remains a compelling, creepy and sobering commentary on where Australian society is heading, regardless of politics. Fittingly, the very rare "Men Who Follow The Spring 'Round" provided some immediate relief from such a heavy start.

Referring to the band's meet and greet after the show, "we're friendly now", Glenn provided a reminder of his relative unease with being in the spotlight and having such a wide and varied fan base. Looking around the theatre, it wasn't by any means just us I'm-Getting-Too-Old-For-This-Sh*t Gen Xers who had shown up, having spent our formative gigging years following Augie March around Melbourne's pubs. Selfishly, I hope Glenn continues to get more comfortable with the way us fans see him, so the band keeps going and we can keep looking forward to more shows as special as this.

It's Hamer Time

Neil Finn
Hamer Hall
March 12 & 13, 2014

Sometimes you look back on the way things are timed and the way they seem to fall into place.  For me, there's always a strong link between what I'm listening to when certain events take place.  March was a rough month, so the timing of Neil Finn's two Melbourne shows couldn't have been better, and of course, there was always the option of not going at all, but that was never going to happen.

Thankfully, Finn's latest album, Dizzy Heights, isn't like his last solo release, One Nil.  It still renders me gobsmacked when I'm reminded that the latter came out about 14 years ago, and its predecessor, Try Whistling This, 15 years ago.  I absolutely love Try Whistling This, even now, and One Nil never really hit the mark for me.  Dizzy Heights does take a few listens to appreciate fully, apart from a handful of immediately catchy gems, like Flying In The Face of Love, Dizzy Heights and Pony Ride.  Neil has always been intrepid, and unafraid to stretch his brain's legs creatively, and work with new people.  As many Crowded House fans would (dare I say this) agree, there was never any need for him to break them up in the first place, he could have done exactly what he's doing now - having fun dabbling in different projects to keep his fertile mind happy and satisfied, returning to "that" band intermittently.

From the little media I've seen, the album was recorded in upstate New York, with Dave Fridmann as producer.  Fridmann has also worked with the likes of Mercury Rev and Flaming Lips.  I haven't heard enough Flaming Lips to compare, but anyone who listens to Mercury Rev would definitely hear his influence on tracks like White Lies and Alibis and the closer, Lights of New York, which meanders like an old show tune.  The unusual Divebomber, initially had me furrowing my brow, but it's grown on me and as happens sometimes, I like it more after having heard it live.  One of the most striking things about Dizzy Heights is that Neil seems to have embraced the falsetto, and gone way out of his regular vocal range.  Whether that's due to his producer, or something he initiated is hard to tell, but it works.

Similarly, songs like Recluse and Lights of New York are a beautiful reminder of how proficient Finn is on piano and how elaborate his arrangements are.  Most of the time he's quite happy to be out front noodling away on guitar, so it was great to see him at the piano so much during these shows.  The few reviews I've read have commented on the heavy drum-bass-R&B feel of the record, and this is accurate.  I don't know if it's due to Finn's wife, Sharon, playing bass, but put it this way, it's very difficult to listen to the album and sit still.  It churns and throbs and grinds - I'd just love to hear it on vinyl hooked up to some bigarse Bose speakers.  Perhaps Sharon is reticent and quite happy to be safe at the back of the stage next to the drums, well away from the audience, but given the influence her playing seems to have had on the overall sound of the record, it's quite a shame that she's not out front.

The lasting impression I have of Neil from these two shows is that he seems so youthful, playful and sprightly, with an energy I haven't seen in a long time. He was definitely enjoying himself touring with Paul Kelly, but I imagine it's very different when the show is all yours.   Both nights saw him run back on to the stage for the encore, sliding on top of the grand piano.  As he said, the venue provided him with a grand, so he had to take advantage of being able to pull a stunt like that.  Anyone could be forgiven for thinking that devoting much of the set to new material was rather indulgent, and Neil fessed up to this himself, thanking the crowd for humouring him.  Predictably, staples like Message To My Girl, Don't Dream It's Over and Fall At Your Feet all got the warmest receptions.  Some rarities, and perhaps unusual, choices also popped up, like Love This Life, One Nil's Turn and Run and Into The Sunset, and Faster Than Light from Try Whistling This.  The sublime Only Talking Sense, which made an appearance during the Finn/Kelly shows really can't be described, and I can't believe it's nearly 20 years old.

Towards the end of the first encore, Neil took pity on the lone guy standing up in his spot and dancing and asked why no one else was getting up to join him. He's always been one to encourage the crowd to get up out of their seats at theatre shows and there's many a time when he's scolded ushers for being too harsh on fans who just want to come up to the front or get up and dance.  Next thing we knew, about 20-odd fans were up on stage (just imagine all the selfies being taken and how many Facebook/Twitter posts were going off) singing Weather With You.  Pardon the crud photo via my phone, but it at least gives you a look at the beautiful tapestry backdrop courtesy of former Split Enz member, Noel Crombie, and his wife, Sally - and a little army of helpers, judging by the entire row of seats they all took up at the second show.

I've spent the majority of my life with Neil Finn's words and music rattling around in my head. I've heard several different songwriters comment on how people come up to them and say that their music has been a "soundtrack" to their life. It sounds like such a cliche, but it also seems as though it's quite true for many. This stuff has poured from the writer's head, onto tape, and then into your head. That's if it resonates with you in the first place, which is a feat in itself. There's a great Kev Carmody song, I've Been Moved, and it's great to be reminded that it's still possible.

One For The Ages

Paul Kelly
Melbourne Recital Centre
August 9, 2013

Even if you didn't know initially, once you've listened to it, you can probably figure out that Paul Kelly's 19th album, Spring and Fall, effectively charts the path of a relationship - all the way through from its beginning, middle, to its eventual end. It's been good company during my drives up to Kyneton the last few months and there's still something new to find every time I listen to it.

Kelly has done this type of show before with Stolen Apples, where the first half is spent playing the new record straight through, with little conversation or banter between songs. Each number also sticks closely to the arrangements on the album, not too much noodling or improvising at all. With Spring and Fall, you can almost draw a line from one song to the next, as it documents the progression from the giddy excitement of a new love (New Found Year) and the sheer adoration of one's significant other (For The Ages), to the restlessness and expectations of being in said relationship (Gonna Be Good, Someone New).

Less straight forward is the latter part of the record, which Kelly himself describes as its second side. It traces the downward slide of a union, starting with Time And Tide, and working its way up to None Of Your Business Now (whose sentiments I'm sure everyone has felt at some stage, whether they relate to a romantic breakup, or a spat between friends or family). None of the vitriol, hurt or vehemence is lost live, it's actually all the more vivid. I remember doing pathology in undergrad, and we had a section on wound healing, with one of the stages called "resolution". Spring and Fall's closer, Little Aches and Pains, is very much the sound of a person who has come a long way to get perspective in the aftermath of a failed relationship.

I've lost count of how many times I've seen Paul Kelly play, and it honestly never gets boring. As Neil Finn once said, it doesn't matter whether you've written a song from personal experience or not, when you sing it you still have to convince the listener that you really mean what you're singing. They have to believe you. Without fail, Paul Kelly does this every single time. Although the songs apparently don't always come easily, he still has a beautiful economy with words - a skill which never fails to mystify long-winded people like me. He's never afraid to mess around with his band lineup either, which perhaps is what helps keep things sounding remarkably fresh. That said, a recent staple has been nephew Dan, who co-wrote the majority of the songs on Spring and Fall.

It must require a good rapport and trust, to let a bunch of players in to interpret the music you've written. And Kelly is visibly generous in the way he does this. The latter half of the show, as he's become accustomed to doing, is geared to playing a mixed bag of old and newer tunes, which realistically is probably what most punters have come to hear. I have to admit that Spring and Fall, with its story arc, really does lend itself to being played through in order from start to finish, and I was very keen to hear it live anyway. Amongst the staples like To Her Door and Deeper Water, treats included the rarer Bradman and Our Sunshine (Ned Kelly's parents' pet name for him as a child). For me though, whenever I hear it, Meet Me In The Middle Of The Air, with just the band around the one microphone, is sublime. Regardless of the personnel, the way their voices blend so perfectly always gives me goosebumps.

These days, I often vacillate when it comes to gigs. There are only a handful of acts where I never do this, and it's a given that I'll be sitting around hitting Refresh on the day tickets go on sale. PK is definitely one of them. It's like old friendships where no matter how long it's been since you've seen one another, you can always just pick up right where you left off.

F@!*in' Up

Neil Young and Crazy Horse
Rod Laver Arena
March 15, 2013

My dad was good enough to save The Age for me yesterday for the article on Wilco. My heart sank when I saw Michael Dwyer's name at the top.  Flicking further through the paper, it sank again when I saw that he was the one they sent along to review Neil Young and Crazy Horse's show at The Plenary on Wednesday night.  I wasn't there, but true to Dwyer's cynical form, I got no sense of what it would have been like if I was.  Yes, Neil Young does have a kind of split personality - folk troubadour versus screeching guitar master.   It's OK to not like a direction someone chooses to take musically, but whether or not you do, was it a good show overall or not?

Today I was trying to fill in some blanks for the setlist from last night's show, and managed to find this gem, sugarmountn.org, which amazingly has Neil Young's setlists going as far back as 1970.  This Alchemy Tour is pretty special, largely because it sees him reunited with Crazy Horse (Frank "Poncho" Sampedro, Billy Talbot and Ralph Molina), who he has recorded about 20 albums with over nearly 35 years.  Their sound epitomises classic garage rock, with Young's characteristic guitar out front.  As he pointed out last night, some of their songs are older than many of us in the audience. It's only very recently that I actually sat down and watched Rust Never Sleeps, filmed back in 1978 at a gig in San Francisco.  I'm grateful I did, or many of the similarities between it and this current tour would have been lost on me.  There are obvious nods to the original, such as an eerily similar backdrop of oversized amplifiers, the use of The Beatles' A Day In The Life to open the show, and the costumed roadies doing much more than simply hovering behind the scenes.  The inclusion of numbers like Welfare Mothers, Sedan Delivery and Hey Hey My My, also seems to form a direct link back to that show from 35 years ago.

It's funny that last night was the loudest show I've ever been to, and the average age of the band is close to 65 years.  Unlike his last tour here in 2009, this isn't just about Neil Young, this tour is riding on the back of his last two records with Crazy Horse, Psychedelic Pill and Americana.  Good bands can be described as tight, but the rapport between these guys is off the scale.  You don't have to have awesome seats to see how much they're enjoying themselves and playing together.   It sounds cheesy, but it is a joy to watch how easy they are with each other.  Any footage of Neil Young playing live usually seems to be of him grimacing in concentration, but last night there were also smiles.  Also, irrespective of whether you like its characteristic screech or not - seeing him play guitar reminds me of watching Ravi Shankar play the sitar - it's as if the instrument is an extension of him.  I tried learning guitar during high school and it's a bastard of an instrument to play.  Hence my glorification of anyone who can play it well.

Keeping tabs on setlists, there's generally very little variation on Neil Young's tours from one night to another.   On stage, he appears more or less oblivious to the audience, with only the occasional quip here and there. Hence, no matter how many times the guy a few seats away yelled out for Down By The River, it was never going to get a look in if it wasn't already on the list.  No matter what Dwyer says, seeing Neil Young sing Heart of Gold on his own was enough to give anyone good cause to have a bit of a blub.  The (much) newer Ramada Inn and Walk Like A Giant were epics, each clocking in at about 15 minutes, with plenty of feedback and guitar fuzz thrown in. Even the bounce in Born In Ontario made it so much more enjoyable live than it is on record.  Yet it was always going to be the oldies with their characteristic crunch, that went down the best with the crowd, such as the opener Powderfinger, and Cinnamon Girl and Cortez The Killer that appeared towards the end of the night.  That said, it's not always the case that some songs are just so much fun (especially with the volume cranked right up) that it doesn't really matter whether or not you've heard them before or not, such as Prisoners of Rock n' Roll and F@#!in' Up.  Right now, I'm also still chuckling at the two guys on the motorbike riding down Batman Avenue after the show, singing "Welfare mothers/Make better lovers..."

Having my head buried in the sand in more recent times when it comes to gigs, it's very lucky that I was looking out the tram window at the right time to spot a Crazy Horse tour poster on High St late last year.   One of many things to be grateful for these days.

Double Fantasy

Neil Finn and Paul Kelly
Palais Theatre
February 16, 2013

Paul Kelly and Neil Finn have a lot in common, even before you start talking about their songwriting.  For instance, as Paul pointed out during Saturday night's show, they each come from similar "clans" where music, parties and singalongs featured heavily in their upbringings.  I've heard each of these guys interviewed about the process of writing songs, and it still seems as mysterious to them as it does to mere mortals like me.   
  
I have absolutely no hope of doing any justice to just how wonderful it was to see two men I adore on the one stage.  It was just as balmy inside the Palais as it was outside, so it was quite fitting when the two came on stage in pitch black carrying lanterns and started off with Kelly's Don't Stand So Close To The Window.  There's such a wealth of material between the two of them, it was always going to be interesting to see what type of set they came up with.  As someone who's followed them both since high school, it was just about the perfect bunch of songs you could hope for, with some of the best moments coming from one covering the other, like Paul doing a gorgeous version of Into Temptation (and I have to admit, the harmonica worked).  And despite the heat and the full house, Neil's rendition of You Can Put Your Shoes Under My Bed temporarily made me forget I was in a room with a couple of thousand other people.  It really is one of those songs you listen to alone, late at night and that's just how it felt.  I'm quite narrow-minded when it comes to covers, but these two each gave the other a run for his money.

The mood in the room was playful, and Neil was probably right in that the folks who attend the first of several shows are bound to be eager.  Having seen him live several times, Neil can be a little like Glenn Richards from Augie March, in that he is very much a perfectionist.  So it was great to see him pretty relaxed and enjoying this experiment, even when he forgot the lines to his own songs (Sinner, Only Talking Sense).  Both were more than ably supported by a genetically blessed band, including one Dan Kelly (sporting a magnificent 'fro), Elroy Finn on drums, and Zoe Haupfmann on bass - the latter providing a throbbing backing to Love Is The Law and a welcome addition to Deeper Water.

As Neil mentioned, his first show ever in Melbourne was at the Palais (during which he got electrocuted), and like Paul, he has a strong connection to this city, having lived here for many years before relocating his family to New Zealand in the early '90s.  Hence it was particularly sweet to hear numbers like Leaps and Bounds and Four Seasons In One Day, which are all readily identifiable with this town.  Even though many of the songs were handled by the person who originally wrote it (Winter Coat, They Thought I Was Asleep, Better Be Home Soon, Not The Girl You Think You Are, How To Make Gravy), there was something distinctly fresher to many of these than versions I'd heard before.  Ordinarily, the heat would have made me inwardly glad when the show finally wound up - clocking in at over two hours, with two generous encores - but I think the adoring audience would have gratefully gone on for much longer.

As both Neil and Paul have said, having known one another for many years and sharing an obvious mutual respect, embarking on this tour is something they had talked about doing for a long time.   Looking back, Nick Seymour has previously criticised Neil for originally breaking up Crowded House, since he believed that the band could still exist even if its members went off and worked on other projects, including collaborating with other people.  It's a blessing for fans to get a chance to see this particular collaboration take place, with six more shows still to come - and that's just in Melbourne.  The other night, Paul was complaining how he had to learn so many new chords to play Neil's songs, whilst Neil complained that he had to learn too many words for Paul's songs.  Sure, there were some stuff ups and missed lines, and of course the perception of the show depends on how receptive you are anyway (and to what), but I'd still say that this was amongst the most emotionally satisfying shows I've seen.

Good Medicine

Archie Roach
The Playhouse
November 15, 2012

In the notes accompanying his most recent album Into The Bloodstream, Archie Roach writes about pain with a capital P. In the space of about two years, he lost his beloved partner and muse, Ruby Hunter, and after that followed a stroke, then a diagnosis of lung cancer. The latter resulted in surgery and a fear that his ability to sing might be affected as a result, on top of the fear that he wouldn't be able to create anymore in that his "reason for words" was gone. This latest record arose in the wake of these events, and it's played a massive part in the healing process. Great sadness has given way to hope. It's sad that Roach is just about as well known for his life punctuated by sorrow and difficult times, as he is for his soulful singing and songwriting. But the album launch last Thursday night, which also opened the 2012 Australasian Worldwide Music Expo, was very much a celebration of the man, his music and his ability to come out the other side of another tumultuous period in his life.

Although his voice was a little fragile for the first couple of numbers, it lacked nothing in its feeling and the power to evoke what it was like during Roach's childhood. The record is very much a story of his life, tracing back to his recollections of his mother and being taken away from her, all the way through to his love for Ruby, and above all his gratitude for still having a song to sing now. I haven't been to a show in recent times where I've felt the need to come home and scribble down every detail before I forget it. With most of the songs on the album lined with gospel, blues and soul, it would be easy to sum up the night by saying that it felt very much like going to church. Above all it was a celebration of rising above the pain of hard times and focussing on the good, imbued with a heavy dose of perspective and giving thanks. What have we really got to complain about anyway?

It's such a cliche but you could very much feel the love in the room, and not just because the stage was full of people, including the band, choir, brass and string sections. Small things like Paul Kelly coming up to sing with Roach, and taking his hand, demonstrate how loved he is amongst his peers, as well as so many younger musicians - whether indigenous or not - who cite him as an inspiration. He gives voice to feelings of loss and love, as well as describing the land and its connection to his people, but without a hint of anger or ostensible activism. The fact that he makes his songs so personal makes them all the more real to the listener, much moreso than any political statement. Simple truisms like if you were to heal the land, you have a chance at healing the people and vice versa, would mean something more loaded coming from anyone else. It says a lot about just what a gentle soul Roach is in that he finished up the hour-and-a-half show by saying how he hoped that if there was anyone who had come along with troubles on their mind, perhaps the evening had helped to lift their spirits. As for me, I wasn't so much troubled when I got there, but I was definitely elated when I left.

Man In The Sand

Billy Bragg
Hamer Hall
October 19, 2012

Listening to either volume of Mermaid Avenue takes me right back to driving around Atlanta in my little Corolla. I can still see the streets of Decatur, and the awesome Decatur CD record store, where I could easily while away hours. Mermaid Avenue was the result of the collaboration between Billy Bragg and Wilco (who for many years I assumed was Billy Bragg's 'backup' band, wtf?) in the late 90s. Woody Guthrie, who along with the likes of Pete Seeger, was amongst the earliest folk/protest singers, left literally thousands of songs written, with no music. As he didn't read or write music, all the tunes to his lyrics were in his head, hence when he left this world, so did the music. His daughter, Nora Guthrie, commissioned Billy Bragg and Wilco to put a selection of these words to music.

Bragg's knowledge of Woody Guthrie and the times in which he lived is encyclopaedic.  Much of this is probably in part due to sifting through the vast volume of Guthrie's words, which speak of a time where banks were taking people's homes away ("I Ain't Got No Home In This World Anymore"), blacks were getting lynched by white supremacists ("Slipknot"), and illegals were being deported just for being poor ("Deportees"). Many of these songs are prescient, being just as relevant now as they were when they were written about 70 years ago. 2012 marks what would have been the year of Woody Guthrie's 100th birthday, so much has been made of the many commemorative events around the globe marking this occasion. The newly renovated Hamer Hall seemed an unusual venue for a show relying on one man and his guitar. I know I've previously been to gigs where I've come away feeling educated, and this was one of them. Billy Bragg and Woody Guthrie have a lot in common, each an astute commentator on the times in which they live(d). A lot of Guthrie's material relates to what was going on during the U.S. Dust Bowl (so called because of the severe dust storms that wreaked havoc on farming land during the drought) era, socially and politically. His writing is straightforward and direct, but it sure helps to have it put into context anyway - even when you realise that you've missed the point of several tunes you thought you understood ("Way Over Yonder In A Minor Key", "Ingrid Bergman").

Even though Billy Bragg's voice is distinctly British, this doesn't detract from songs about particularly American issues like segregation and the Ku Klux Klan. His enthusiasm is only saved from being over-the-top by how well he understands Guthrie's life and times, and how much of a trail blazer he was. Coming to think of it, the night reminded me a lot of Tex Perkins in The Man In Black and how he tells Johnny Cash's life story through his music. It's a tribute, as well as a biography. Even "Another Man Done Gone" worked (the version where Jeff Tweedy sings it is fantastic so it's stiff competition), written by Guthrie once the symptoms of his Huntington's Disease have begun to set in. I don't know if there's a recording of it anywhere, but towards the end of the night, Bragg mentioned that Woody Guthrie had written a number of children's songs - a far cry from his protests and activism. One of them, "Dry Bed", is all about a little boy (maybe little Woody?) who's taking great pride in no longer wetting the bed. Although the subject matter is a little unusual, there aren't many people who could coax an entire audience to sing along - it helps that it's really catchy, and the words make it very easy to identify with the boy in the song. I also don't know if Billy Bragg has ever had a "day job", or if he's always been in the music industry. I can picture him being a great public school teacher. Songs like his can serve several different purposes - to vent, agitate or educate. He does the latter really well.