live KILLING JOKE
tables and décor that suggests better, older times. Pool accompanies her strong, clear voice with soft guitar, demonstrating her remarkable range in each of her songs. The theme of heartbreak receives a high representation amongst her repertoire with her tune Henry particularly well received. She especially wins the crowd over by exclaiming at the end of the number: “What a dick! You were all thinking it.”
BILLBOARD: 07/06/13 “Good evening, we’re celebrating 35 years of Killing Joke!” Jaz Coleman proclaims, and so begins the onslaught as one of the most influential yet still underrated bands on the planet start with Requiem. There’s a lot of grey hair on display with old punks, goths and rockers turning out to pay tribute to the heroes of their youth, but it has to be said the energy level of the crowd is nowhere near as high as that of the performers. There’s a small knot of diehards slamming away on the floor in front of the stage, but otherwise it’s pretty sedate. On stage it’s a different story, however – Coleman looking lean and mean, in much better shape than on the band’s last visit in 2004. He still has plenty of fire and brimstone left, bellowing out the lyrics to Wardance, shaking, glaring and providing an ominous presence as always. Youth looks like someone’s dad on a summer holiday with his blue Hawaiian shirt and visor, although the “Sid Lives” t-shirt underneath and his tireless pounding basslines and lively stage presence soon counteract this impression. Innovative guitarist Geordie Walker is as cool as they come, casually coaxing scything riffs from his classic gold hollow-bodied Gibson ES-295 without breaking a sweat. Axewound and ex-Pitchshifter drummer Jason Bowld fills in for Paul Ferguson, who couldn’t play on this tour due to tendonitis, and does well, frantically hammering out the tribal, stomping beats that underpin so many of Killing Joke’s apocalyptic anthems. Dedicated to the memory of bassist Paul Raven, Love Like Blood is played early on, when most bands would probably have saved what is arguably their biggest (but not necessarily best) song for the encore. Killing Joke have never been a band to do things by the book, and, of course, that’s part of their appeal. The set is a really powerful collection of songs spanning their long history and the best part is that Rapture, Asteroid, Corporate Elect and The Death & Resurrection Show from their more recent albums are just as good, or better, than their early songs. Not many bands can lay claim to such a feat after 35 years, making this much more than an exercise in nostalgia. As far as the classics go, The Wait sounds absolutely pulverising and Eighties, Whiteout, Change and Pssyche are all highlights, sounding much more menacing live than on the original recorded versions. Coleman is fiery all evening, expressing his pleasure that there was rally here against Monsanto, introducing Eighties with: “Two decades ago it was still a time of hope, we still believed in people like Peter Garrett. What happened there?” and commenting before The Beautiful Dead that “People ask what’s different now from 30 years ago … There’s not as much rebellion, nobody’s got any rebellion left in them, you’re all zombies!” As if to prove his point there’s barely a murmur from the audience in protest. The downside to tonight’s gig is the mix. It’s very bass-heavy, and not in a good way. The sound improves the closer you get to the stage, but it’s pretty dismal behind the mixing desk, particularly through the first half of the set, when loud and distorted bass guitar overshadows the guitar, keyboards and even drums. It’s only closer to the front of stage that the sound is more balanced, due to the direct sound from the backline. The venue dimensions and listening location are always a factor in such things, but some of the fault has to rest with the sound engineer who simply gets the mix balance wrong. It’s a shame when the band are giving it their all and have no control over what the audience is hearing. Killing Joke are working on a new album, so hopefully they’ll be back again. Based on this inspirational performance and their last four albums they‘re not only every bit as vital and relevant as they were in the earlier part of their career, but also still pushing the boundaries and producing some of their best work. James O’Toole
HIGH HIGHS, ALI BARTER TOFF IN TOWN: 06/06/13 Winter is well and truly in the air as Ali Barter takes to the Toff’s stage. It would seem that this, along with it being a Thursday evening, has resulted in the skeleton audience present to welcome her. It doesn’t seem to matter, though – Barter’s solo style suits a smaller audience. Her strong vocals fill the empty space between the stage and the bar, the sombre lyrics not helping to alter the temperature, although the voice delivering them does. We’re treated to originals such as Run You Down, as well as a Foo Fighters cover that Barter attributes to a teenage obsession she just hasn’t been able to kick. Her voice has drawn comparison to many accomplished female artists, both here and overseas, and it’s easy to see why. It’s strong yet smooth, with just enough
[REVIEWS REVIEWS]
Singer/guitarists Kenneth Pattengale and Joey Ryan make up indie-folk duo, The Milk Carton Kids. Ryan makes an early mistake of requesting that the audience “give a hand” to Pool and manages to elicit applause louder perhaps than what he had been expecting. Nevertheless, the duo remain unperturbed and launch into their set, quickly affirming that they are not about to be upstaged. After the first number, Ryan thanks the audience for clapping and remarks, “Everyone should find a job where they get applauded every three-and-a-half minutes”. This is the first instance of the most enjoyable and surprising elements of this show: Ryan is genuinely hilarious, keeping the crowd entertained with absurd banter that seems to focus mainly on made-up histories of English and Latin grammar. While Ryan is the eye-candy, Pattengale is definitely the talent, demonstrating bristling-fast solos and stimulating riffs all the while managing to perfectly harmonise (and sing when it is his turn) with Ryan’s vocals. Their numbers Charlie and Girls, Gather Round are two stellar examples of many songs that create one of the most intimate and delightful gig atmospheres experienced since what this scribe imagines young Dylan’s audiences were treated to.
Killing Joke Pic by Jesse Booher haunting tone to make an emotional impact without taking too much of a toll on the listener. Indeed, the only thing taking a toll tonight is the choice of lighting for the performance. It creates a vibe not dissimilar to a karaoke night – something that really doesn’t suit the calibre of what we’re hearing. The break between performances sees an increase in numbers, enough to now call it a crowd. It’s the usual mix of people welcome at the Toff, the middleaged to teenage, suits to hipsters and everywhere in between. As High Highs take to the stage we’re told that it’s their last show for a month or so, following their stint back in Australia. The music kicks in, starting a gradual end to the evening that could be likened to falling asleep on a rollercoaster. You see, High Highs’ hybrid of electronic and acoustic just seems to inflict a strange dazed energy upon everyone. Every number seems to strive for this balance, which fosters soothing tones while obstructing boredom from creeping upon the weary among us. It might be confusing for those in the front row who are trying to figure out what to do with themselves, but from the other side of the bar it’s a perfect way to ease into the remainder of the week. If anything, the live performance of the band’s debut album Open Season errs a little more on the electronic side when compared to its recorded state, although there’s certainly no discernible loss of quality. The lighting’s better this time, soft enough to create an air of mystery matched to what’s being played. As the end of the night looms, and with it the prospect of the trusty hot water bottle, Phone Call and Dey emerge as this reviewer’s highlights. However, it’s an unrestricted rendition of Open Season that sees us out into the cold, like wildlife staring down the barrel that is a chilly ride home. Jack Needham
MIGUEL ATWOOD-FERGUSON ENSEMBLE HI-FI: 01/06/13 Watching Miguel Atwood-Ferguson and his ensemble is a remarkable experience. Along with a smattering of talented local and international musicians, including members of band Hiatus Kaiyote, the LA native treats the lucky guests to a breathtaking, uplifting performance, one which the attendees might agree could be in the running for Melbourne’s gig of the year. While Atwood-Ferguson is a composer, DJ, arranger and plays multiple instruments, for this performance he shows the audience what he is truly best at – playing the violin. The classically trained prodigy began playing at the age of four. It might be the smell of jazz in the air, but the Hi-Fi bar feels different. The stage looks smaller, the
venue feels intimate. Most of the crowd is gathered on the floor near the stage and on the stairs. They start with a version of John Coltrane’s Living Space, the cruisy, extended introduction builds and builds, and the extent of Atwood-Ferguson’s talent is revealed. Not only has he converted musical classics of all genres into his own work of art, his fingers move up and down his violin at an incredible speed. The show jumps from some laidback Ethiopian jazz from Mulatu, to J Dilla’s Untitled (Fantastic). Guest vocalist Elana Stone replaces Sophia Brous, singing a powerful version of the trippy Tomorrow Never Knows by The Beatles. She’s tiny, but her huge voice is reminiscent of Moloko’s: strong and solid. Dressed in glittery threads and sporting an eccentric haircut, vocalist Nai Palm truly blows the audience away with her presence and her voice. Her cover of Bjork’s Sun In My Mouth is dedicated to her mum, as it’s the anniversary of her death. Initially she sounds remarkably similar to Bjork, but throughout the evening’s performance, elements of her voice are reminiscent of Amy Winehouse, Lauryn Hill and Billie Holiday. The sax solo from Silent Jay gets cheers and whistles from the crowd, as does Simon Mavin’s handiwork on the keys. A woman dancing near the front of the stage spins around, her eyes closed and her arms outstretched. Like many others, she is being completely uplifted by this music. Stone and Palm remain on the stage, their harmonies providing a sweet accompaniment to AtwoodFerguson’s strings as he bounces and jumps in time with the beats. Nai Palm sings Summer Soft by Stevie Wonder, and she looks so deeply engrossed in her beautiful voice she barely notices the crowd. There are songs that are familiar, which sound like theme music for movies and soap operas – uplifting, happy, cute Disney-like moments which raise arm hair and transport listeners to a sublime state. Atwood-Ferguson says, “This is my first time here, and I love it. I want to stay for a whole month.” With the announcement at the end of the show that he will be playing some tunes at Section 8 the following day, as well as hosting a composition workshop, it seems that he would if he could. “I will release my album soon,” he tells the crowd. If the show is anything to go by, it will be a must-have for the collection. Belinda Healy
THE MILK CARTON KIDS, MELODY POOL THORNBURY THEATRE: 06/06/13 The endearing Melody Pool goes down a hit with this seated audience, which seems accustomed to gigs complemented with dinners, large round
After a quick plug to promote the physical albums that you can pay for, and the free downloads of the exact same albums available on their website (themilkcartonkids.com), the boys send the audience off into fuzzy oblivion with their slow ballad Memphis. They end the show to thunderous applause and a standing ovation. While it cannot be denied that the average audience-member’s age is about 65 (Ryan’s own observation is: “Some of you look like you’ve been parents for a long time”), The Milk Carton Kids provide one of those rare examples where you realise that your parents are actually going to better gigs than you. Benjamin Meyer
EARLWOLF PALACE THEATRE: 07/06/13 “What’s up, assholes?” says Tyler, The Creator, greeting the sold-out Palace. Earlwolf, the duo comprising Tyler and fellow Odd Future member Earl Sweatshirt (with Jasper Dolphin and Taco Bennett joining the tour), have just exploded out on stage with French, which sends the crowd mental. It’s the first time any of Odd Future’s subgroups have toured Australia and it’s also Sweatshirt’s first time here (he was still at school in Samoa during the group’s previous tours). More importantly, it’s probably the best of any Odd Future tour so far. The set is a mix of both members’ solo songs, with their few duo songs thrown in. They each provide backing vocals for the other, with Dolphin adding his own and filling a sort of hypeman role, while Bennett provides the music from a laptop. Tyler’s songs such as Yonkers, Domo23 and Jamba have the entire floor area dancing and moshing in equal parts, while We Got Bitches gives Dolphin and Bennett a chance to show off their own rapping and Odd Future’s dumb, party side. The majority of the set comes from Tyler’s solo output (three albums compared with Sweatshirt’s one, to date), which is broken up by Sweatshirt, or group tracks, every few songs. About halfway through the set, Bennett plays the piano sample from Gucci Mane’s Lemonade and the crowd collectively loses it – it’s Orange Juice, one of the older Earlwolf songs and arguably one of the best of all the Odd Future output. Sweatshirt takes over the set for a few songs after this, while Tyler sits and uses his inhaler. We get older songs, like Earl, and a few new songs after Sweatshirt confirms a July release for his album, Doris. Despite his absence over the last few years, Sweatshirt has lost none of his skill and has no trouble flawlessly reeling off his impressive rhymes. Disappointingly though, he doesn’t perform his Oldie verse, despite Tyler and Dolphin’s challenge after they each do theirs. This is one of the few flaws of the show – several songs only get partial renditions because their guests aren’t here tonight. The omission of crowd favourite Radicals is cruel too. Instead, the show ends on Sandwitches. As soon as Tyler gives the signal, the floor erupts into multiple circle pits and the whole room shouts in unison, “WOLF. GANG.” Josh Ramselaar
For more reviews go to themusic.com.au/reviews • 31