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JOHN NEWMAN, SASKWATCH The Hi-Fi Thursday May 1
PHOTOGRAPHER :: ASHLEY MAR
Sydney Opera House Monday April 28 The past few years have seen the iconic white sails on Sydney Harbour transformed into an indie haven, with internationals like Bon Iver and Grizzly Bear taking to the stage and charming the patterned socks off audiences who are more accustomed to music venues that reek of gin and tobacco. So when everyone’s favourite bandcomp-winners-turned-globalexports lock in two shows at the Opera House, it’s a celebration of sorts, and a chance to cry away to The Jezabels’ melancholic musings with a little more class than with a beer in each hand at Laneway (Wait. You did that too, right?). From small bars to colossal arenas, The Jezabels have carved out a reputation for maximising the aural capacity of any given space. So it’s no surprise when a single spotlight illuminates keys player Heather Shannon, who prefaces the show
seated high above the stage at the Concert Hall’s Grand Organ. Performing an immaculately crafted original composition, Shannon propels concertgoers into a wide-eyed trance, only broken when Hayley Mary’s fiery voice pierces the room. One song in, however, and it becomes evident that something just doesn’t… feel quite right. “Tony Abbott hasn’t made it illegal to stand up in the Opera House just yet,” Mary reminds us, tauntingly. Her words are met with deafening applause and the entire room is immediately on foot, leaning in for the next gut-wrenching melodic hook. Drummer Nik Kaloper offers up a percussive assault as the Byron Bay natives take us through the best of their discography, spanning old favourites from their trilogy of EPs to their latest album, The Brink. Kaloper’s rhythmic prose is softened only by Shannon’s textured synth waves and guitarist Sam Lockwood’s crisp riffs. All eyes are fixed on our leading lady, though, who glides across the stage in her
black sequined jacket, whipping out pelvic thrusts and weaving between a flawless vibrato and her signature falsetto. After belting out the feminist anthem ‘Mace Spray’, Mary fights back tears as she recounts her childhood friendship with Shannon and what it means for the classically trained musician to be performing at the Opera House. R.I.P. any dry eyes that are left.
With a four-piece band, two backup singers and the kind of self-confi dence you’d usually attribute to someone with the dancing chops of Justin Timberlake, Newman’s unique and very polished vocal performance was too often eclipsed by attempts at spectacle. On quieter numbers, like the poignant ‘Out Of My Head’ and particularly the ballad ‘Down The Line’, we saw what Newman’s show should have been; a simple
As far as modesty goes, Newman could do well to take a leaf out of support act Saskwatch’s book. The Melbourne nine-piece, touring on the back of its second studio album, was humbly brilliant. Kudos to the sound engineer who managed to make even a four-strong horn section sound crisp and punchy. Some of those horns wouldn’t have gone astray on Rudimental’s ‘Not Giving In’, part of an inspired Newman encore. That encore was too long in the making, after Newman and his band left the stage for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time and cheers started and petered out. Much of it might be down to inexperience. ‘Tribute’ was released only seven months ago and suddenly, halfway across the world, Newman is expected to be the consummate professional. He is not, at least not yet, but will be a fascinating act to watch as his live performance catches up with his ambition. David Seidler
While the newer, more silverlined material is received with unbridled singalong, it is the older cuts like ‘Hurt Me’ and ‘City Girl’ that have the entire audience on tiptoe, waving arms wildly in the air and reaching ambitiously for those high notes. You think you’ve seen it all, right until the ’Bels return for their encore, complete with a giggle-inducing lap dance from Mary (“as promised”) to a female audience member. Who knows how these former Sydney Uni kids pulled it all off – a pop crusade through one of the country’s finest venues? But they did. Mina Kitsos
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THE JEZABELS
If tonight’s show at The Hi-Fi proved anything, it was the value of modesty. John Newman, 23 years old and already a worldbeater before his solo career ever began thanks to some handy work with Rudimental, brought everything he had and it was too much. In a white suit, gold chain and sporting his telltale quiff, Newman opened with ‘Tribute’, a thank you note of sorts to the artists that preceded and infl uenced him, from Motown to Michael Jackson and beyond. What was immediately apparent, as he stomped across the stage, sometimes trailing his microphone stand, other times in an energetic (but often uncoordinated) dance routine full of spins, was that Newman was trying too hard to channel his idols.
piano-and-vox combination almost always trumped more trumped-up moments. When the ostentatious was familiar – as on singles ‘Cheating’ and encore closer ‘Love Me Again’ – a crowd reared on the fl ashy soul Newman was aping was very much along for the ride. But elsewhere, especially where his bravado exceeded audience knowledge or enthusiasm, the results fell fl at.
:: ASHLEY MAR ::
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