Irregular Writings
December 2013
City of Music.
There is a Melbourne Music Week every year. 2013 was the fourth year; there were all sorts of conferences and gabfests fronted and run by the sorts of people who think they know how to run things and float stuff. Experts in their fields. They have these things around the world with different slants on things. In February there is MIDEM in Cannes – an all-in-the-jacuzzi gathering of labels that has been going for decades. In New York City every October there is CMJ music marathon, focussed around college radio. A place for trade but also for showcase live events. Then there is Austin SXSW music every March, which draws acts and labels from all over the world to gather and try to catch each other’s – somebody’s! – eyes. Some people say it’s great!
Similar events have sprung up around our island continent. There is a conference heavy week in Brisbane every year and one in Adelaide and Hobart. No disrespect to these cities but Melbourne is undeniably a rich MUSIC CITY. It has a sophisticated audience and varied types of venues and scenes. I know this! I opened for Glenn Campbell a few years ago in every capital city – including Tamworth and the Gold Coast – and the reaction of the audience in Melbourne lifted that band of brothers higher than any other room they set up in. The set list was full of GOLD and they played it beautifully every night. In Melbourne people rose to the occasion: the stagey setups, the introductory vamps and the hints of classic moves here and there. People were on their feet from the start. Everywhere else, they were on their feet to get to take a leak every ten minutes. Here, people knew what a show was. They got into it.
So I am glad that a MUSIC CITY has a MUSIC WEEK.
My friends often take pains to tell me I am a damn know-all and I am thankful for their frankness. But I have never had this talent recognised and exploited by the music business much. I mean to say that my invitations to spout forth for a comely fee at any venues were not really happening – so I didn’t attend any of the forums on how to manage social media or which posture to assume as you approach commercial radio programmers. I either knew that shit or I didn’t wanna know it! Instead I went along to an event down by the banks of the Yarra which was music only. A whole lot of Melbourne (and surf coast environs) acts playing in a new fangled kind of fibreglass tent structure down under Princes Bridge by the river. The private school boat crew were all doing their mysterious stuff but they had to contend with throngs of Melbournians basking in the in the spring sun one late Wednesday afternoon.
Yes, some bright spark had had the idea to set up a whole lot of food stalls in the vicinity. People love food. Much more than they love music. If a guitar chord is let loose in the city, there are immediate complaints; almost as much as if a wind turbine is set up in the country. People moan immediately. They hate noise in the middle of the city! But if a cook throws a few slices of onion on a barbie, he or she draws a crowd like the Beatles did in the 60s. The magic!
So there was an excited, murmuring crowd wandering about and eating all kinds of food. Lying in the sun and picking fleas out of each other’s hair. You know the scene. I got tired of looking at the wildlife and headed over to the dome / tent where the music was already happening. Both sporting polka dotted shirts a la Dylan 1966, Fraser Gorman and Courtney Barnett powered through a set of each other’s tunes. Fraser pointed out their matching shirts and made no apologies. He also outed a member of the audience for wearing the same spotted attire. A coded garment, full of rich and overt meaning. The Frowning Clouds came on next. I had seen them a few years ago and had found their 60s beat modes to be too much to bear. They have toured a lot and loosened up and come into themselves. Amazing how young musicians can drink in whole continents and then spew it all out and start to swim. They have the power to imagine themselves new over and over. Baptism of Uzi brought on some guitar harmonizing that was so refreshing. If I could mention a precedent – and it’s probably all wrong – I would mention the band 801 from the pre-dawn of punk rock in the UK. Brian Eno and Phil Manzanera and a bunch of George Smiley-esque private school prog killers. Baptism of Uzi have massive skills and great ambition.
The Murlocs came on in a skittish mood, all having been at a funeral that day. When you’re 19 or 20 that’s heavy traffic. Ambrose and Cullum lead the way. Ambrose has that mad natural garage squall in his voice. He says stuff to someone in the front row along the lines of “What was that pleb? Sorry! Who’s got the mic? Who wins?” He can toss that kind of aristocratic stuff off easily. Harmony play with a highly anxious guitarist and singer and a bass player at the centre who hams it like Victor Mature in Samson and Delilah. Their aces in the hole are three singers who give every song a grand EXILE-ish trill and flash for the ages. Dan Kelly comes on after five months playing guitar for his close relative, Paul, and gives an absolute guitar master class. Playing a Gibson SG through stereo amps his music begins with the 5/4 triumphant title track of his last album Dan Kelly’s Dream. A torrent of words, a story in every tune, no talk in between songs but so, so match fit on the guitar grooves. A perfectionist, he slays with skilful execution of a whole set of new material. One track was a great motoric groove that swept the crowd along for a good ten minutes. No solos, just the chord voicings and touches of pedal effects and just plain joyful choogling. King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizzard closed out the night. These guys obey no rules but their own whimsical grooves. A singer who insists on putting his mic through a Fender amp and a general wish to die by drowning in a sea of beautiful reverb. You can’t help but warm to them. They even have a member you’d swear is Jeff Daniels straight from the set of Dumb and Dumber. (I love that film.)
Did I say the tent / dome was filled with a thousand or so young adults in their early 20s? Such a night of talent and skill and a crowd getting right into it. No sad stories of neglected artists or people who could have been. They were all happening. Right then and there. Right here and now.
@davegraney
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