live@inpress.com.au to disappoint live, but this isn’t evident tonight. From the first to the last rhyme, the crowd is held captive by his majesty. He covers a lot of territory, throwing up tracks from almost all of his personas. There’s a sprinkling of Madvillain, Victor Vaughn, King Geedorah and MF Doom tracks. With the scent of green wafting through the Espy he launches into America’s Most Blunted from the album, Madvillainy. Hands hit the roof, heads nod and we eat from the palm of his hand. If there’s anything to criticise, though, it’s the mix. After the booming beats of Dexter, Doom’s beats sound tinny, the treble is way too high, the bass unable to be felt in your chest. With little warning, the trio (DJ, hype man and Doom) disappear from the stage. But there’s no way they won’t return. And when they do, the beats are large once again and MF Doom launches into the culmination of his set. Someone up front calls for a track from Danger Doom and he dutifully delivers. This sets the crowd off one last time. There’s no doubt. MF Doom has lived up to expectations, and with another show scheduled, punters will be scrambling for a repeat visit. Luke Carter
LAST DINOSAURS, PAPA VS PRETTY, LOON LAKE NORTHCOTE SOCIAL CLUB Wow, this is a first. The young patronage of the Northcote tonight apparently didn’t get the memo re: ‘Melbourne snobbery’ because the band room is being filled front to back as opposed to vice versa, as one normally sees in gig attendance. That pitiful ‘D’ shape encircling the stage so omnipresent is now gone, replaced by what one determines to be a breadth of strictly 19-20 year olds. Melbourne rockers Loon Lake, with their cheery Brit Pop-esque stylings, are actually the best band on the line-up tonight. A bold statement, yes, but In The Summer is a hugely catchy, if slightly mild, number that makes the youthful audience bop away like bunnies. Papa Vs Pretty are possibly the same ages as their audience but show far greater skill than their older musical counterparts. Although the music itself is pretty standard indie rock with all the staples – wailing guitar, head-nod bass thudding, swaggering verses leading into big, big choruses – it shows a far better understanding of musicianship than their youth might lead one to believe. Frontman Thomas Rawle has that sort of Muse/Evermore vocal vibe going on (singing well despite his throat infection) but his clunky banter shows his lack of experience in rock’n’roll showmanship: “Has anyone had a beer?” The energy of Last Dinosaurs is fierce and admirable – I appreciate anyone who gives up the ‘too cool for school’ shoegaze BS – but as the chopping indie-pop guitar rings out and frontman Sean Caskey’s sort-of asexual vocals sing lovely words and every cat in the place gets out their iPhone to record cutesy single Honolulu, I just can’t grow to like the Last Dinosaurs sound. There is too much, much too much, of this everywhere. It’s not the band’s fault – they could have been doing this for yonks – but the samey sound, despite being tight and glossy, is too far removed from individuality to fully embrace. There is a market for this, but I’m not shopping there. Lisa Dib
YEO, THE BON SCOTTS, THE TOWNHOUSES TOFF IN TOWN Although it’s a school night, the Toff In Town is buzzing with people tonight. Melbourne-based The Townhouses open the evening with ambient instrumental tracks. Leigh Hannah, the solo genius behind this project, is an interesting performer to watch as he plays his eclectic, nuanced music. Indie-folk septet The Bon Scotts follow on and play tracks from their debut album Oddernity, which was released in August last year. Loud applause is given when the ensemble play We Like War and The Kids Are Coming and it is clear that this outfit hit the spot tonight. But the big applause is reserved for the talented Yeo Choong who is launching his second album Bag-OItems tonight. A catchy, ‘90s-style pop/hip hop album, Bag-O-Items is an entirely solo project where Yeo impressively plays every recorded instrument and sings nearly all harmonies. The album pushes boundaries in terms of genre and style, sounding at times like Phoenix, Jamie Cullum and even The Morning Benders. Joined onstage tonight by friends such as Charlie Lim on synth and Tina Behrsin on backing vocals, Yeo begins his set with the toe-tapping Hey Mr Sound Man, the first track off the new record. The Weight I Pulled and Big Heart follow, and his boyish charm shines throughout Stupid Ideals. The sound is polished and Yeo looks completely relaxed and in his element onstage, bopping to the melody and occasionally playing the keytar. Yeo has a stage presence that is endearing and unpretentious to watch and it is evident that he has a strong fanbase here in Melbourne, one that is sure to grow when Yeo supports Kimbra at the Corner this Thursday. Danielle Trabsky
THE BRONX, FUCKED UP
Amanda Palmer pic by Lou Lou Nutt
CORNER In a good way, Canadian’s Fucked Up have to be the fuckin’ fuckedest fuckin’ fuckers in fuckin’ punk music to-fucking-day. They hit the stage running and don’t relent during an hour of stomping, proper punk music led by the world’s scariest (in a ‘I hope he doesn’t crush me while he’s crowd-surfing’ kind of way) fatman, Damian Abraham. The Corner stage struggles to accommodate the six pieces. It doesn’t help that the room is jammed beyond the gunnels with punters, but actually watching the band proves difficult as diagonal sightlines render the players obscured from view. Luckily Abraham spends a good deal of the show in the audience and sculling beer at the bar. If you haven’t seen LA punk exponents The Bronx, you’re barely alive. In rare fashion they refrain from opening up with what’s become the expected loosener Heart Attack American and opt for the more recent, if ever-so-slightly weaker, Knifeman. There’s a lot of treble in the mix and singer Matt Caughthran’s vocal screeching drowns the guitar dynamic for the majority of the set. The energy of the thing treads a knife-edge between euphoria and outand-out carnage. Circle-pitters grin under the trance of their chief in Caughthran, but you get the impression they’d be tearing each other apart if given the nod to do so. There’s a softer period than seen at past outings through the middle of the set and a couple of the older numbers – notably Strobe Life and They Will Kill Us All (Without Mercy) – lag sufficiently to allow toilet stops and refreshment before the coming onslaught. The inclusion of the, until recently, rarely played White Tar invigorates, but you get the impression The Bronx are well aware it’s an uphill battle. The one-two combo of closers Heart Attack American and the exceptional History’s Stranglers send The Bronx from the room on pretty decent terms, but the awful sound quality coupled with the sheer volume of bodies make for a pretty uncomfortable experience. But then, who said punk rock was ever supposed to be comfortable? Sam McDougall
AMANDA PALMER FORUM From the beginning, there is a palpable energy in the packed Forum. The fans are in a state of almost Messianic devotion and it’s remarkable how electric that expectation is. Kim Boekbinder, looking very Ziggy Stardust, performs a tight set of three songs with backing vocals from a squeeze toy. Melbourne’s own The Jane Austen Argument are also on briefly, but are fucking fabulous. A truly exceptional cabaret act, musically and lyrically. As a surprise, Amanda Palmer and longtime collaborator Jason Webley appear as Evelyn Evelyn, their alter egos as conjoined twins playing excellent ragtime. They play one song but the crowd goes absolutely insane. Mikelangelo & The Tin Star are a very tight band, let down by the thin voice of the singer, who seems more comfortable talking than singing. And he talks and talks – between songs and during songs. He should really just get on with it. The final support is Webley, before a half-naked Amanda Palmer appears high above the stage playing Making Whoopee on ukulele. She vanishes and The Tin Star, now her backing band, plays Miss Me as Palmer dresses chaotically behind a flag. When she has finally succeeded, her show begins. Palmer is a superb performer and her voice is pure and honest. However, the performance is utterly let down by the delayed and disorganised transitions between songs. Most songs require new accompaniment and the accompaniment takes ages to appear. That palpable energy is largely gone. And Mikelangelo continues to talk, most vexingly in the middle of Coin-Operated Boy. But suddenly, it all changes. When Palmer leaps into Runs In The Family, the band is tight and the music is furious and powerful. Seamlessly, they shift to the doo-wop of Oasis and there are go-go dancers, a brief sample of Twist And Shout, and the whole theatre is thumping. Palmer returns for an encore performance of Map Of Tasmania while dancers in koala suits strip down to merkins and remain gyrating onstage for Leeds United. The closer is a drinking song, led by Webley, as the whole crowd sways and sings. If the entire show had been this fluid throughout, it would have been beyond sublime. Instead, the show’s brilliance was perforated with stretches of unnecessary chaos. Rob Gascoigne
ILLY, PAGEN ELYPSIS, BBS
SANTANA
CORNER
ROD LAVER ARENA
There’s no shortage of Melburnians keen to see local boy Illy on the stage. Sadly, the same can’t be said for opening acts BBS and Pagen Elypsis. Both crews have a lot of enthusiasm, but substandard unison rhyming lets them down. BBS’s set is overly referential – the MGMT samples and Eminem references leave little room for originality to shine through. Adelaide’s Pagen Elypsis show promise with their lively stage presence, but fail to capture the attention of the Sunday night crowd. It’s never a good sign when, with the main act due on stage in less than an hour, the back half of the venue is more crowded than the front.
Seeing a legend like this is a strange experience, one almost crushed under safe expectations, stifling any chance to feel the transcendence the band built their legacy on. However, one glance around the arena says it’s unlikely the crowd is looking for anything like that. With Carlos Santana you know exactly what you’re going to get; a dude in a hat playing a lot of guitar, a large backing band of similarly proficient musicians and a piñata full of Latino good times.
It’s a testament to the skills of DJ Flagrant that he’s able to take this stone-cold crowd and whip them into a frenzy. Flagrant takes over the decks, taking control not only of the sounds but also of the visuals projected onto the screens encasing the stage. He artfully mixes and scratches some of hip hop’s greatest classics – mixing House Of Pain’s Jump Around into Drapht’s Jimmy Recard is a particularly inspired move. These songs’ accompanying music videos are intercut with some of cinema’s greatest moments, with Arnie and Don Cheadle making appearances. When he drops that old chestnut, Hoods’ The Nosebleed Section, the room goes apeshit. Finally, the room is primed for Illy to take the stage. He leaps up to deliver the last verse of Go, the opener off his second album The Chase. If he’s nervous, there’s no trace – he confidently delivers new tracks like Diamonds and On The Bus, as well as old favourites My Way and Generation Y. Even the absence of M-Phazes on the decks doesn’t appear to dent his confidence, with Flagrant providing more than ample support while the drummer, Cameron works his magic. Album tours are an excellent way to test out which tracks will work live, and the results are often surprising. Put ‘Em In The Air sounds like a sure-fire live hit, but falls flat on the night thanks to an imperfect mix. The slow burn of Cigarettes, on the other hand, inspires the kind of passionate sing-along normally reserved for hit radio singles. Launching into We Don’t Care, Illy hits back at his detractors, pointing out that few hip hop acts in Australia can command the kinds of crowds that he can. He closes the set with breakthrough hit Pictures and current single The Chase, before returning with Brooke Addamo (AKA Owl Eyes) herself for an encore of It Can Wait. The onstage confidence, adoring fans and market appeal add up to one thing: Illy is, indeed, carrying the torch for Aussie hip hop now.
With well over 100 previous members, the current 11-piece line-up fills the stage with 30odd drums and copious percussion, none of which is wasted. Riding ruggedly over the top of the heavily swung rhythms, pulsing bass and stinging Hammond oozes Santana’s guitar tone, busy as a Spanish flea pulling one song into the next. “I’m very grateful, very blessed at this time, on this planet,” he says after shaking the place to the ground for the umpteenth time. “It’s important for us to stay lightheaded and to live in wonderment, healing and love.” The audience cheers. “I happen to know a lot about love right now,” he smiles. “You see, I got married in December to this lady…” and in walks Cindy Blackman (you know, Lenny Kravitz’s drummer from Are You Gonna Go My Way). Cue a stonkering five-minute drum solo, a sloppy kiss and a blistering intro to Jingo, which has the audience cheering louder than ever. From the crowd, many of who would have helped Abraxas to number one in 1971, there is a palpable excitement and a lot of arrhythmic arm waving when Santana pulls out Oyo Come Va and Evil Ways before segueing into A Love Supreme (there is a lot of segueing tonight). All inspiration for another soliloquy, this time ‘SOCC’ (AKA Sound Of Collective Consciousness) and plenty of ‘bringing the love from Woodstock’ references. “If you remember one thing from tonight, make it this... you are light and love,” Santana solemnly intones before we all, gender by gender, chant it back arms aloft: “I am light and love!” So, it’s a relief for some when the band launch into Sunshine Of Your Love and several of his recent Smooth(er) efforts, taking us back to the safety of the idea of Santana, leaving us free to comfortably nestle in his warm spirit and copious baggage. Andy Hazel
Aleksia Barron
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