The lead up to the inaugural Harvest Festival in Parramatta Park was one rife with trepidation and questions. Would the event be plagued with the same problems as Soundwave, the flagship festival of its promoters? Would the venue work well, or would the long trek out west for some be fruitless? And dear god, why did those timetables take such a long time to surface?

As it turned out, it couldn’t have been a more perfect day. Minimal queues, beautiful art installations around the grounds, a mostly chilled crowd and, of course, brilliant music made Harvest a total success. This is me eating my words of worry. It was amazing.

KEVIN DEVINE

Opening the day’s musical festivities was Kevin Devine, one of today’s most underrated songwriters who really deserved a much later timeslot. Touring on the back of his newest album, Between The Concrete And Clouds, the shy Brooklynite offered a humble acoustic set that allowed his unique voice to tell fanciful stories buoyed by his thoughtful lyrics. His musical personality traverses everything from subdued troubadour to impassioned preacher, best illustrated on closing track Brother’s Blood, where he stepped away from the microphone to deliver earth-shattering screams at the track’s powerful climax.

HYPNOTIC BRASS ENSEMBLE

Over at the Great Lawn stage, the sounds of Hypnotic Brass Ensemble stirred the crowd into a frenzy. The band of brothers threw in a set that mixed traditional big band sounds with some truly exciting hip hop sensibilities, an atmosphere that would be carried on later by The Family Stone who, though without main man Sly these days, still managed to crank the funk up as the heat poured sweat down punters’ backs, sequins and glitter blinding eyes as the joyous music spilled from the stage. Sets like these were part of what made the festival so unique; rather than just the usual indie rock fare, there were very different elements on display at Harvest that allowed audience members to taste new flavours.

At the same time as HBE, over at the Windmill Stage, Brits This Town Needs Guns were spinning their math rock tunes with amazing precision, also showing off some new tunes, including the brilliantly named Cat Fantastic, while they were at it. Making the set all the more impressive was the fact that it was one of the first shows they were playing with their new line-up – they were a well-oiled unit and, in the spirit of Movember, sported fine facial hair (some better than others).

The dapper gentlemen in The Walkmen followed, and while their set did have the pleasantries of finely crafted indie rock, after a while it felt a little pedestrian and it was onwards to the previously mentioned Family Stone. In a similar funkified vein, TV On The Radio drew a massive crowd and proved that they’ve still got it following the year’s earlier tragedies. They were impeccably tight and very, very, verrrrry loud, a band perfectly suited to a festival, and tunes were drawn from all across their discography as the sweaty crowd screamed its approval.

BRIGHT EYES

What can you say about finally seeing a band you’ve desperately wanted to catch live since you were 14 years old? Last time Conor Oberst came to Australia as Bright Eyes, it was 2005 and at 17 years old, attending the headlining Metro show was sadly not a possibility – but hello, it’s 2011 and Bright Eyes are back and hey, they’re still awesome! Oberst was much happier than he was during his 2008 Mystic Valley tour, often joking around and displaying the most bizarre dance moves.

The jaunty Four Winds kicked off the set, which was largely a crowd pleasing selection of songs from across Oberst’s many albums. Of course the biggest cheers were saved for Lover I Don’t Have To Love, but Landlocked Blues was no doubt a highlight, with Oberst’s voice shining on its own as he carefully made his way through the emotive track. He and his backing members went a little mental during final song Road To Joy, as they always do, and by the time he strolled off stage everyone was that much closer to the end of that road. A pleasure and a privilege, finally, to hear songs that have as much meaning today, in a totally different way, as they did in the angsty teenage years – the mark of a fine songwriter, surely, to remain relevant throughout so many life changes.

THE NATIONAL

The National’s two shows in January remain some of the best of the year so far, and so it was with much anticipation indeed that they returned to Australia not even a year after their last visit. Matt Berninger and friends are one of modern music’s most inspiring success stories, living proof of slow and steady winning the race.

The band’s Harvest set drew heavily on tracks from the last two albums, High Violet and Boxer, and needed little more than Berninger’s deep vocals to be deemed life changing, incendiary, all those other words you hear thrown about. The addition of a brass section added that extra punch to some of the tunes, and Conversation 16 was a particularly moving inclusion, with thousands singing “I’m evil” in unison with Berninger. The National doesn’t need bells and whistles to deliver an utterly convincing performance, and Berninger’s customary descent into the crowd for closer Terrible Love was one of the day’s most uplifting moments.

There’s not much to say about this band that hasn’t been said before but if you’ve yet to check them out live, get along to a show if you can. Truly life-affirming stuff, every single time.

THE FLAMING LIPS

The Flaming Lips’s live show hasn’t changed much since it began, but it doesn’t need to. Though Wayne Coyne and co. were late by more than half an hour, much to the annoyance of many, by the time they finally appeared on stage all was forgotten as they emerged from a neon vagina. Surfing around the crowd in an enormous bubble, Coyne led the way through a colourful adventure as the audience reveled in balloons, confetti and of course music, with the mass singalong for Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots Part 1 a particular tear-jerker.

The musical and visual aspects of the performance tied together to create something truly special, and by the time it all wrapped up with a blissfully spaced out Do You Realize??, all in attendance were on cloud nine. Rainbows raining down on a crowd with the warm almost-summer air kissing the tiny pieces of coloured paper. The perfect way to let those freak flags fly.

The closing set from headliners Portishead, delayed because of the Flips’ lateness, was one that proved ideal for lying down on the grass, listening while letting feet have a rest for the first time all day. The ethereal soundscapes, and Beth Gibbons’ haunting voice, were spellbinding, whether one was up front staring into the laser projections or hanging back, simply allowing the ears to bathe in the sounds around them. Glory Box was unsurprisingly the highlight, as suited to an expansive western suburbs field as a smoky bedroom with the lights on low.

For the first year of a festival especially, Harvest was a remarkably smooth and enjoyable day, with plenty of incredible live music to experience and an atmosphere both comfortable and exciting. Here’s hoping that next year’s edition is just as brilliant – this one looks like a keeper.

Queensland troubadour Darren Hanlon was an unlikely support act, but the crowd quickly warmed to his earnest personality both musical and otherwise. First performing solo with just a guitar, then joined by a drummer and Portland musician Shelley Short, and finally singing gently with a ukulele, the set rested on Hanlon’s conversational tone and the harmonies he wove with Short. When he was alone his manner resembled a Play School telling, with chatty interludes, but when his voice was doubled by the percussion-shaking Short’s the tunes took on a whole new life – Scenes From A Separation allowed her voice to shine. A highlight was I Waited For The 17, a grand display of Hanlon’s self-effacing humour.

2005 was the last time Sydney was treated to a full Bright Eyes set, with main man Conor Oberst retiring the name several years later and embarking on an entirely separate adventure. This year the moniker returned with The People’s Key, and tonight’s set comprised tunes from across Oberst’s decade-plus career.

Opening with the foot-stomping Four Winds, the ensuing set showed an Oberst in fine voice and form – surprising, considering his notoriously volatile nature – whether raucously yelling, with bodily actions to match, or solemnly enunciating. His backing musicians helped matters too, with Nate Walcott adding a beautiful muted trumpet to back the acoustic Lua and keyboardist Laura Burhenn’s vocals adding a sweet layer, particularly during the climax of Lover I Don’t Have To Love and the female-driven We Are Nowhere And It’s Now.

The audience sang along with reckless abandon, often lunging forward, attempting to touch Oberst’s hands. You could hear a pin drop when he offered more sombre numbers, like the piano-driven Ladder Song and the haunting No One Would Riot For Less, his voice shaking with emotion. Old songs like Bowl Of Oranges and The Calendar Hung Itself… were just as warmly received as newbies like the joyous Shell Games, and Cartoon Blues saw Oberst make use of silence as much as sound, often stopping for dramatic effect.

A manic Road To Joy was thrown in as an encore, with Oberst showing his unique sense of humour when introducing his bandmates before wrapping up with One For You, One For Me. It’s somewhat ironic that one of music’s most infamously depressed figures could evoke such joy from both himself and the audience, but it happened tonight. Bravo.
Giselle Nguyen

PHOTO: FASTERLOUDER

Without his usual backing band tonight, Ohad Rein’s Old Man River songs were carried by only himself and a loop pedal. Opening with Sunshine, on which he accompanied himself with the acoustic guitar as percussion, the ensuing performance was quietly charming in its modesty, and the man himself displayed an endearingly self-effacing humour in between tunes. Highlights included the insertion of a spoken word Kerouac recording in one of the songs, a sweet call and response section in Religion and a stripped down cover of The Flaming Lips’ Do You Realize?? Though some of Old Man River’s songs are slightly pedestrian, Rein’s sheer likeability made his performance convincing and enjoyable.

The spirited fingerpicked opening of I Won’t Be Found began The Tallest Man On Earth’s set, utterly entrancing from start to finish. Often called this generation’s Dylan (and that’s not an overstatement), Kristian Mattson writes brilliant songs that are stylistically simple, but arresting in their stark honesty and intimacy. His voice tonight rang loud and clear, with less of an obvious twang than its recorded self, and the sold out room fell silent throughout to drink in every nuance. Changing between electric and acoustic guitars, Mattson casually admitted that many of his songs were “fucked up” – the haunting Where Do My Bluebirds Fly was one such song, in which his emotionally strained voice, over the sombre minor key plucking, was heartbreaking.

Mattson’s songs do not change much live, but they don’t need to – they possess such an enchanting closeness recorded that when they come to life before your eyes, it’s like greeting an old friend who you understand every part of. He took to the keyboard briefly, sang gently in unison with the guitar on Love Is All and soared spectacularly on The Dreamer, one of the more hopeful and uplifting songs he’s penned that was even more powerful on stage. King Of Spain was one of the evening’s sing-along moments, and during the encore the amicable Swede bantered playfully with an audience member who was adamant to hear Into The Stream. She got her wish with a beautiful rendition, before Mattson closed with a cover of Nico’s These Days.

Music like this needs no bells and whistles to be utterly captivating – it’s deeply emotional and simply true, which is all that music should be.

Originally published in The Drum Media

Supported by: Owen Pallett

Sufjan Stevens has changed a lot in a few short years. The man behind Illinois is now charging things up with the electronic The Age of Adz and its stage show, making his way around the world when he once was a very enigmatic and elusive performer. His State Theatre show in 2008 is one of my favourite concert memories ever, so it was a matter of whether or not his Opera House show this year would go down quite as well. In a word, no, it didn’t. But why?

Before we get into that, let’s talk about Owen Pallett. After a run of incredible shows at the Spiegeltent last week, the Canadian took to the stage of the Opera House for a shorter set that was just as sweet. Though the intimacy of the Spiegeltent made for a much more immediate show where the intricacies of his playing were quite a lot easier to see and admire, the echoes of “Who is that guy? He was amazing!” after this set confirmed that despite the size of the venues where Pallett plays, he’ll always impress. This set did not include a cover (as has become customary in his others) and borrowed more heavily from Heartland and the Swedish Love Story EP, with only two tracks (‘This Is The Dream of Win and Regine’ and ‘Many Lives > 49 MP’, one of his most impressive vocal performances) from Final Fantasy releases. Pallett seemed completely at ease, joking around with the audience between songs, and the invisible barrier between crowd and performer ceased to even exist. It’s a big call to make but after seeing Pallett three times in the last week, there’s little chance that there’s a performer as genuine and innovative out there today.

Now. Sufjan. Everyone and their puppy dog has been waxing lyrical about the show, and while there’s no doubting that it was incredibly impressive on the technical side of things, there was just something about it that felt lifeless – which is a funny thing to say about a set that probably cost tens of thousands of dollars to create with its many lights and dancers and all sorts. The main part of the set drew from last year’s releases – the All Delighted People EP and The Age of Adz. Stevens walked out on stage clad in a Buzz Lightyear-esque getup and, with his ten-piece backing band, started proceedings with the title track from the EP, Simon & Garfunkel references and all. As the lights swirled, Stevens’ voice was sounding as pure as ever and the crowd actually did raise their hands as the lyrics dictated; but things started getting a little strange on the following tracks, ‘Too Much’ and ‘The Age of Adz’. First of all, they were extended to almost 15 minutes each, which seemed excessive, and secondly, Stevens himself seemed completely out of his element, awkwardly robot dancing throughout. These songs do not show off his vocal ability as well as his older material does, and though his backing band was impossibly tight the whole thing seemed incredibly self-indulgent after a while.

At one point, Stevens grinned and said “I’m a maximalist”, but this all made sense when he described the concept behind Adz, slideshow and all. It’s a homage to a bloke named Royal Robertson, one of those strange types with a fascination with aliens and outer space, and that explained the space theme of the night, Stevens’ costume and the huge difference between this album and previous ones. There’s no doubting that what we witnessed would have taken an excruciatingly long time to get together, and it was beautiful – two backing dancers often complemented the music wonderfully and lights flashed about, making for a true visual feast. But funnily enough, it was the naked songs in the main set that made for a glimpse into what Sufjan Stevens has always really been about – ‘The Owl and the Tanager’ gave us a snatch of that beautifully pure voice in an acoustic setting, and he seemed so much more comfortable when accompanied with nothing but his voice and a guitar than when surrounded by a bombastic band and light show.

Closing out the main set, ‘Impossible Soul’ – a staggering 25 minutes on record and just about the same here – showed exactly the extent of this new man, the one who has chosen hugeness over subtlety. Rainbow lights filled the stage and at one point Stevens descended in a bulb of light, stepping out in a huge headdress and skirt. Faithfully to the recorded version he also made gratuitous use of autotune (Kanye Stevens? Sufjan West? S-Pain?), and at the climax of the song balloons tumbled down from the ceiling and covered the ecstatic audience as Stevens sang “we can do much more together” before the song died down to its sombre acoustic ending. It was really a sight to behold and a joyful thing to be a part of, but when Stevens came back on stage, now in just a simple green shirt, the truest glimpse of what he’s come to be loved for was given.

The encore comprised three tracks from Illinois – ‘Concerning The UFO Sighting Near Highland, Illinois’, ‘John Wayne Gacy, Jr.’ and, of course, ‘Chicago’. Stevens’ voice is not quite what it once was, struggling a little on the higher register of the middle song, and yet it was a wonderful throwback to simpler times, from the repeated piano upwards roll to the simple guitar strum and the massive track that propelled him into the ears, hearts and minds of many. ‘Chicago’ leapt from where ‘Impossible Soul’ had left off, with balloons still tumbling in a much fuller rendition of the track as Pallett joined on stage to dance.

What used to be so great about Sufjan Stevens was his ability to weave an entire world out of the simplest materials – a guitar, a voice and rarely anything else. Though Illinois was a little more flowery than his previous work, its stage show still required very little to convey the songs’ messages, and as such Stevens was one of the best in the business for unadulterated folk music, the simplicity of old and the quick wit of new. With The Age of Adz, there’s a sense of pompousness that can’t help but spill over into the live show. The album simply would not be able to connect if it didn’t have the light displays, the dancers, the extremely over the top stage show accompaniment. While it certainly was a visually stunning night with some good music to go along with it, so is a Muse show, or a U2 show. There seems to be none of the old Sufjan left, and though it’s such a hipster asshole thing to hate on the new stuff and beg for the old, he used to be much more meaningful than this.

Set:
All Delighted People
Too Much
Age of Adz
Heirloom
I Walked
All For Myself
Vesuvius
The Owl and the Tanager
Get Real Get Right
Futile Devices
Impossible Soul
—
Concerning the UFO Sighting Near Highland, Illinois
John Wayne Gacy, Jr.
Chicago

For anyone playing at home in a different country, Australia Day is one of the finest days our nation has to offer, for it is then that the top specimens of the country come out to play. The Big Day Out festival is traditionally held on Australia day, attracting the best of the best – we here call them “bogans”. Observe:

So a lot of the day ended up being devoted to bogan-watching. Some highlights, as seen on my Twitter feed under the hash tag #bogandayout:

- Girl with “JBT” written on her back in zinc #bogandayout
- Group of dudes wearing matching green and yellow “BDO 2011″ shirts with a line each from the national anthem #bogandayout
- Poorly fitted Australian flag bikini with visible areola #bogandayout
- Dude wearing a singlet with a photo of a woman’s legs and the words “up the bum no babys” (sic) #bogandayout
- Dude with BDO timetable printed upside down on the front of his shirt for easy viewing #bogandayout

Bogans aside, BDO 2011 ended up being a pretty decent day. I’d only attended one of the events before in 2008 and found it to be an overcrowded day full of douchebags, but approaching it with a more open mind this year made for a much more pleasant experience.

(more…)

The music of Owen Pallett came into my life in 2008, by way of my then-boyfriend who told me, “you gotta hear this guy Final Fantasy – he’s amazing!”. Having grown up playing a stringed instrument myself (the cello, if you were wondering) and having always been a little disenchanted with classical, there was nothing that thrilled me more than hearing a fellow string geek playing music that appealed more to the stuff I was into. I first saw him perform in December 2008 and I remember leaving the venue thinking that I’d thrown it all away by not continuing to play my instrument. From the first second I saw him, Owen Pallett had me thinking that I wanted to be not only a better musician, but a better person.

Fast forward a couple of years and he’s shed the Final Fantasy name, but the live experience he offers is still as enthralling as ever. This was his second of three nights at the beautiful Famous Spiegeltent in Hyde Park’s Festival Garden, on the back of last year’s Heartland, the first album under his own name. Pallett’s first port of call after tuning his violin was to remove his shoes. Now standing before a packed crowd in socks, he raised his violin and made the delicate pizzicato intro into ‘Took You Two Years To Win My Heart’, making his way through the song with looped harmonics and gentle but forcefully controlled vocals. Pallett’s setup may look minimal – keyboard, loop pedal and violin – and to the uninitiated it may seem farcical to think that he might be able to create sounds even close to the orchestral lushness of his records, but the world that he weaves from his fingertips is unthinkably magical.

For the most part, Pallett’s live arrangements are faithful to his recorded work, producing almost always note-perfect renditions with impressive force – his fluid double-stopping on ‘This Is The Dream of Win and Regine’ could have made a virtuoso tremble, and his voice displayed an incredible ability to leap from a shy whisper to a level croon to a powerful yell. But there are also songs which he has totally changed for live performances; while on record ‘Midnight Directives’ starts with a calm wind, live it was a beast of a song with a staggeringly frenetic pizzicato introduction that looped throughout, and ‘This Lamb Sells Condos’ traded its studio keys for a violin-only performance that saw soaring cross-string action and that wonderful bridge given a whole new life while Pallett looped his own voice to create two separate vocal tracks. Pallett is a perfectionist, but makes it seem so effortless; though he started a few songs, like ‘The Great Elsewhere’, again due to uneven timing with the loops he was about to create, the results once things got going were faultless. Songs from his newest EP A Swedish Love Story were also a treat, with a particular highlight in the upbeat ‘Scandal at the Parkade’.

On top of displaying an absurd amount of talent, Pallett was equally as entertaining between songs, inviting audience members to suggest songs for him to play for the parts in the set list that he hadn’t yet decided (the show was altogether one that felt a little ad-libbed, like he was just playing from the heart rather than playing from a piece of paper). He also spoke of his day trip to Bondi Beach and how he was the pastiest person there – “my skin thinks that my hair is red” – and looking around the room, it was clear that the audience was delighted with Pallett not only as a musician, but as a person too. After heckles for his covers of Joanna Newsom’s ‘Peach, Plum, Pear’ and Mariah Carey’s ‘Fantasy’, he explained that he no longer really liked to do covers because they had become a little trite. The heckling continued, and one punter shouted out “do a cover Owen, you’re good at that!” to which he replied “I know. I’m also a very good songwriter” to rapturous applause. Despite his protests, the song directly following this exchange was an exquisite cover of Bloc Party’s ‘This Modern Love’, in which he sang all the different parts, from quiet mutters to anguished half-screams. Though it seemed that this was the trade-off for his usual recent cover of Caribou’s ‘Odessa’, it was a perfect re-imagining of a song that most crowd members may have forgotten over the years, poignant as ever and a strong testament to Pallett’s knack for finding his own distinct meaning in other people’s art.

Closing the main part of his set with the bubbly ‘Lewis Takes Off His Shirt’, Pallett re-emerged with ‘Oh Heartland, Up Yours!’, a song which he said he’s still yet to figure out how to play properly – of course there was no sign of this in the actual performance, which plodded along steadily, helped by the looped key bass and his even voice. Though it’s accompanied by wind instruments in the studio version, again there was no sense of anything missing here. ‘Many Lives -> 49 MP’ showed Pallett screaming into his violin to emanate the more gang-like shouts on record while playing the violin part beautifully and powerfully, before thanking the audience and slipping, again, into the blackness.

This guy is one of the best there is out there right now, quite simply put. There’s no one else doing it this way, mixing innovation with charm and a constant thirst for perfection. I said before that the first time I saw Owen Pallett, he made me want to be a better person; after seeing him twice this week, I’ll change that to say that Owen Pallett just makes me want to be Owen Pallett. Can’t think of anything better to aim for.

Set:
Took You Two Years To Win My Heart
Flare Gun
Midnight Directives
This Lamb Sells Condos
This Is The Dream Of Win & Regine
A Man With No Ankles
Lewis Takes Action
Scandal at the Parkade
This Modern Love
That’s When The Audience Died
The Great Elsewhere
Song Song Song
Lewis Takes Off His Shirt
—
Oh Heartland, Up Yours!
Many Lives > 49 MP

Supported by: The Middle East

Let me preface my recap by saying that before High Violet, I would have considered myself a casual fan of The National. A friend introduced me to them via Boxer in early 2008 and I enjoyed it, but I wasn’t blown off my feet the way I was the first time I heard their latest album, which ended up being my top pick of 2010. It was love at first listen, and like countless others who heard the record, I found myself relating to every aspect of it and knew, after repeated listens, that with music like this existing in the world, that no one can ever really be alone. It’s taken the full week since my double National live experience to really be able to articulate what I’d like to say about the shows – they were absolutely different and both offered an individual glimpse into what the music of this band means. The standard for live music in 2011 has been set extremely high already after these shows, and considering they were in the first week of the year, that’s no easy feat.

Townsville’s The Middle East, a buzz band in every sense of the word in this country for a while now, opened up both nights. The Middle East does atmospheric folk well – all seven members are able instrumentalists, and when they hit the mark they hit it damn well, as evidenced by huge-sounding numbers like their breakthrough ‘Blood’. The harmonies were spot-on both nights and created a wonderful atmosphere, so when they do things like this so right, why do they feel the need to venture into experimentation? The song in question, known only as ‘The Spoken Word Song’ due to a lack of any studio version, could easily be omitted from their show to make for a more seamless experience, especially due to the band’s strengths lying within more conventional melody and structure. With lines like “my hands were like monkeys in the jungle”, the song comes across more as a poor joke than anything and on these two evenings, really broke up the flow of what was otherwise quite a fluid and well-paced set.

The National – 07/01

Walking on stage to atmospheric music and a dimly lit purple screen, the members of The National (plus their two brass section guests) looked somewhat sombre as they opened proceedings with ‘Runaway’. Matt Berninger’s sonorous voice was surprisingly just as affecting live, but the mood changed up quickly when they followed with Boxer‘s ‘Mistaken For Strangers’. The set that followed focused heavily on their last two albums, with only three songs played from earlier efforts, but to the swelling and passionate crowd it didn’t seem to matter much. What was perhaps the most surprising thing about the set was just how at ease the band was – for a bunch of guys who write such moody songs, they were unexpectedly upbeat, flinging jokes at the audience and laughing amongst themselves, especially when Berninger introduced ‘Slow Show’ as a wedding song – for those who don’t actually understand the song, of course. It was one example of a song that is slightly changed live, with a more sluggish feel than the studio version, but considering the atmosphere of the show in general and the extreme enthusiasm of the crowd itself, there was hardly room to fault. Songs from High Violet proved to be as powerful live as on record, with the band performing all but ‘Little Faith’, and the atmosphere in the room was truly palpable by the time that opening drum beat of ‘Bloodbuzz Ohio’ sounded across the increasingly hot and sweaty room. The beauty of Berninger’s voice is that it’s just as striking at a low whisper (demonstrated perfectly in surprise track ‘Green Gloves’) as it is at a high screech as demonstrated in more energetic tracks like ‘Abel’, especially touching when coupled with the thousands of voices singing along. Keys were showed off on main set closers ‘England’ and ‘Fake Empire’, before the band exited and returned with an ecstatic ‘Mr November’. If the entire show had consisted only of the two songs that followed, though, it still would have been a more emotionally uplifting show than any other – with the opening fuzz of ‘Terrible Love’ the room was already buzzing, but when Berninger lifted himself through the surging crowd to the second barrier and walked along it, holding hands with breathless fans as he sang “it takes an ocean not to break” into the eyes of each individual, there was a true sense of unity and passion swelling around the room. Considering the raw nature of High Violet, it was an intensely personal experience to be in such close proximity to the man himself as he sang such real words, and when the band followed that up with an unplugged ‘Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks’ (video above), 2000 voices rang out together, singing the same words despite being from all walks of life, and it just felt perfect.

Set:
Runaway
Mistaken For Strangers
Anyone’s Ghost
Slow Show
Squalor Victoria
Afraid Of Everyone
Bloodbuzz Ohio
Lemonworld
Lit Up
Conversation 16
Sorrow
Abel
Apartment Story
Green Gloves
England
Fake Empire
—
Mr. November
Terrible Love
Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks

The National – 08/01

The second show was actually the first on sale, and though it would seem that such a nuance might not make a difference to the band, there’s a sneaking suspicion that it might have after all – the set on the second evening was geared much more towards an older fanbase, with songs stretching back as far as 2003′s Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers – an unexpected bonus. Walking on this time to a Stevie Nicks track, the band again started proceedings with ‘Runaway’ and this time pulled out a Boxer track not heard the previous night, ‘Brainy’. The atmosphere seemed a little calmer tonight, and again all High Violet tracks were played with the exception of one (this time, surprisingly, ‘Lemonworld’, which proved to be one of their most successful songs in the last year). The first pre-Boxer track of the evening, ‘All The Wine’, came as quite a surprise and was followed by more unexpected oldies like ‘Available’ (with a bit of ‘Cardinal Song’ thrown in at the end) and ‘Daughters of the Soho Riots’ – it’s hard to figure out exactly why the band would have skimped on the old stuff the first night and delivered it en masse on the second, but there were certainly no complaints. Again, the band displayed their remarkable sense of humour when the intro of ‘Sorrow’ went on a tad too long as Berninger popped out for a toilet break, returning to the stage via a barrel roll. It sounds bizarre to hear laughter at a National show but there was plenty of it, cementing the fact that The National is a great act of entertainment as well as a source of personal affirmation. Closing again with ‘England’ (during which Berninger hopped into the crowd for a bit) and ‘Fake Empire’, the band encored first with another oldie, ‘Lucky You’, which provided a pleasant change in pace. During ‘Mr November’, Berninger again jumped down into the crowd, this time combing the right side of the front floor before leaping manically up onto the stage again – and during ‘Terrible Love’, he stayed put firmly on stage. The only criticism to be made of this night is that the same intense closeness felt during ‘Terrible Love’ on the first night – the use of direct audience interaction as a highly personal and highly emotional tool – was nowhere to be found on the second, with Berninger instead doing what every other frontman of every other rock band has done by crowdsurfing just for the sake of it. Closing again with the unplugged ‘Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks’, there was nobody in the room not singing along with unrestrained joy. And if there was, that person has no soul.

Set:
Runaway
Anyone’s Ghost
Brainy
Slow Show
Squalor Victoria
Afraid Of Everyone
Bloodbuzz Ohio
Little Faith
All The Wine
Available/Cardinal Song
Conversation 16
Sorrow
Abel
Apartment Story
Daughters Of The Soho Riots
England
Fake Empire
—
Lucky You
Mr. November
Terrible Love
Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks

The reason it took me this long to write about these shows is not only the fact that I’m a terribly lazy procrastinator, but also that it’s quite difficult to articulate the feelings I had during evenings that were so emotionally rewarding for me. It’s hard to talk about these things without pulling out every cliche in the book, but just as High Violet changed a little part of me, so did seeing The National live. It was an incredibly cathartic experience that is a shining example of the power of live music and what it can do for the average person. How the hell is anything else this year going to come even close?

Supported by: Bearhug

Built to Spill has an incredible fanbase in Sydney, and yet this was only their second visit here, the first being two years ago. Strangely enough, the Metro was curtained off only a few tiers back, meaning that the evening was a little emptier but also cosier.

Before the main act took the stage, local up-and-comers Bearhug warmed the joint up with a solid dose of indie rock. The five-piece’s last international support slot was for Broken Social Scene at the same venue back in August, and since then there’s been a definite visible and audible improvement – though they still seemed a little shy at the start, tonight’s set eventually swelled into a confident performance of tunes from their EP, To Anything, with some impressive triple guitar action and marked progress in Ryan Phelan’s vocals.

Taking to the stage before their scheduled time and getting right into it all, Built to Spill played a set that started off well enough but ended up being something that only the most vigilant fans would have come away stoked about. It’s difficult to fault the band musically – after almost two decades and seven full-length albums, they definitely know what they’re doing, creating a rock-hard wall of sound impossible to penetrate – but what was crucially missing from this performance was any sense of life outside of focusing just on guitars and drums and vocals and bass. So many extended jams – perfectly executed, yes, but somehow lacking any real enthusiasm or joy, all bleeding into an enormously long, enormously tedious song after a while.

There were treats, like the lovely ‘Twin Falls’ and its counterpart ‘Some’, and closer ‘Broken Chairs’ seeing maybe the most intense of the super solo jams for the night, but they really could have done with more interaction as the overarching feeling of the night was that there was an enormous barrier between audience and band that meant that we were only observing, not participating or sharing in any way, as the band uttered no words outside of ‘thanks’. For die-hard fans only it was an evening of cherished memories and songs, and certainly there was a lot of talent displayed throughout the night; but for the rest of us it was a fairly average night out that better acted as a showcase of Sydney’s best beards on the faces of audience members. At least they were engaging.

Set:
Traces
In The Morning
Kicked It in the Sun
Hindsight
The Plan
Joyride
Twin Falls/Some
Else
Distopian Dream Girl
Life’s A Dream
Wherever You Go
The Wait
Carry The Zero
—
Stop The Show
The Weather
Broken Chairs

Supported by: De La Soul, Little Dragon

Despite a decade’s worth of groundbreaking music-making, this was the first time that Damon Albarn’s project Gorillaz had ever visited Australia – so it goes without saying that there was quite a bit of buzz leading up to the event, especially considering the Escape to Plastic Beach tour’s sensational reviews worldwide. Rumours of ex-Clash member and current Gorillaz bassist Paul Simonon contracting a stroke dampened the spirit a little but when it was reported that he was indeed alive and well, anticipation was at an all-time high for one of the most talked about live events of 2010.

After De La Soul’s Maseo introduced them, Swedes Little Dragon started proceedings with a mix that began unevenly, but spread out well through the remainder of the set. Singer Yukimi Nagano has a voice that is silky on record and equally so live, gliding through songs mainly from latest record Machine Dreams while accompanied by her three rhythm-perfect bandmates. The synth-heavy set ended too soon – there were some beautiful moments throughout, like the inclusion of ‘Never Never’ and the more upbeat ‘Looking Glass’, and Nagano really has excellent stage presence.

New York hip hop trio De La Soul took the stage next for a performance that was focused more on the audience than the group itself. Maseo, Posdnuos and Dave made sure that it was all about interaction and crowd fun, with songs like ‘Ring Ring Ring’ especially resulting in a raucous call-and-response from performers to spectators – even those who didn’t have a clue who De La Soul was. Splitting the room in half and arguing about who was the ‘better’ side (with profanities to boot), by the end of this set there wasn’t an arm in the house that wasn’t madly flailing – and when there was, the band was sure to call out the offending audience member for it. A truly fantastic performance that was enjoyed by hip hop fans and non-fans alike – this is what live music should be like.

And then there was Gorillaz – the biggest show on earth for a reason. It is beyond words, really beyond words, to see that many people from all walks of life standing on the same stage, making music together that rips across so many different genres. Walking on to ‘Orchestral Intro’, the set slipped into ‘Welcome To The World of the Plastic Beach’ featuring a giant Snoop Dogg on a screen, and the next two hours was unspeakably magic. Not only were there true legends present on stage (The Clash’s Paul Simonon and Mick Jones, Bobby Womack), but frontman Damon Albarn was charismatic and spot-on with all delivery, and the songs sounded just as pristine as they do on record. It is hard to single out highlights in a set that was nothing but, but hearing Womack sing on ‘Stylo’ was a treat and the harmonies on ‘On Melancholy Hill’ are just as sweet live as they are recorded. Of course the original cartoon members of the band were also present – Noodle, Murdoc, 2-D and Russell intermittently featured on the big screen, laughing at the ‘Gorillaz tribute band’ down below, and it was crazy to think that what started over 10 years ago as somewhat of a gimmick has become one of the most widely recognised and respected crossover acts on the planet.

A full string section complemented the tunes nicely, opening acts Little Dragon and De La Soul jumped on stage for their respective guest spots, and the inclusion of the Hypnotic Brass Ensemble and the Syrian National Orchestra made for a very special evening indeed – especially seeing as Albarn befriended the Orchestra when Gorillaz performed their historic gig in Damascus. Watching Mick Jones dancing during the Arabic interlude was a real Kodak moment, too – dude is well into his ’50s but still has so much energy.

Throughout the evening the GORILLAZ sign in the background flashed different colours and animations adorned the screen, the most memorable of which played during ‘Dirty Harry’; the song which has seen the band often joined by real children’s choirs was this time accompanied by cartoon children pegging paper planes at each other and giggling while the stage came alive.

Albarn often reached out dramatically to adoring audience members, at one stage jumping down and running across the front row, and as the band continued to pump out the hits there was no audience member standing still with the cacophony unfolding.

Encoring with the expected bombastic bass of ‘Feel Good Inc’ and their first hit ‘Clint Eastwood’, Gorillaz surprised everyone when that wasn’t the song to close out the night, going instead for ‘Don’t Get Lost In Heaven’ and Demon Days’, closing the evening not on an electric note but a rather sweet one.

There hasn’t been another gig this year that had quite as much power as this one, and not another that incited such a crowd frenzy in the very best way. Given that Albarn has announced that the future of Gorillaz is uncertain, you’d have been a fool to miss out on this show if it was indeed not only the first, but also the last time they’ll ever be on our shores. Come on Christmas, we need the new album now!

Set:
Orchestral Intro
Welcome to the World of the Plastic Beach
Last Living Souls
19/2000 (with Rosie Wilson)
Stylo (with Bobby Womack)
On Melancholy Hill
Rhinestone Eyes
Superfast Jellyfish (with De La Soul)
Tomorrow Comes Today
Empire Ants (with Yukimi Nagano)
Broken (with Hypnotic Brass Ensemble)
Dirty Harry (with Bootie Brown)
El Mañana
Syrian National Orchestra piece
White Flag (with Bashy and Kano)
To Binge (with Yukimi Nagano)
DARE
Glitter Freeze
Punk
Plastic Beach
—
Cloud of Unknowing (with Bobby Womack)
Feel Good Inc. (with De La Soul)
Clint Eastwood (with Bashy and Kano)
Don’t Get Lost In Heaven
Demon Days

Supported by: Deep Sea Arcade, Step-Panther

Sydney three-piece Step-Panther is going places, spotless all the way through their set and sounding astonishingly polished for a group just on the rise. Whether they were playing loud Pavement-esque slacker jams or hazier beachy cuts or even yelping senselessly over frenetic drumming, there was a certain charm and refinement to this band’s live show that cannot be found on record. Closing with ‘Fight Like A Knight’, they certainly left the crowd wanting.

The thing that stood out the most about Deep Sea Arcade‘s performance is just how hard singer Nic McKenzie tried. The band was undeniably tight, with guitars, keys and drums melding faultlessly in staples like ‘Keep On Walking’ and ‘Lonely In Your Arms’, but McKenzie’s stage presence was distracting. Idolising Liam Gallagher is one thing, but trying to actually be him is entirely another – like the miracle child of Gallagher and Julian Casablancas, McKenzie lolled lazily against the mic stand with a contrived sense of swagger that just smacked of obnoxiousness. The band was musically solid with its ’60s-inspired tunes, but there are lessons to be learned about personality.

The curtains closed and all that was visible was a bunch of white roses peering out from between the cracks, until the first notes of ‘Ghost Mouth’ rang out and the sheets fell back to reveal the five members of Girls. The California band’s spaced-out tunes catapulted them to the top of every hipster’s playlist in the last year, so it was just a question of whether or not they would impress quite as much live. The first half of the set focused on the band’s more melodic tracks including note-perfect renditions of ‘Laura’ and ‘Lust For Life’; Christopher Owens’ voice was clearer live than it was on record, and newer songs like Heartbreaker really shone.

And then shit got real.

Lights began to flicker and songs like ‘Big Bad Mean Motherfucker’ and ‘Morning Light’ drowned the venue in their thrashy lo-fi noise, and though it was incredibly intense, at the peak of it all it became monotonous in its madness. They slowed down again with ‘Carolina’ before coming back for a muddled encore including ‘Lauren Marie’ and ‘Life in San Francisco’, after which Owens stood at the microphone looking confused before muttering his thanks and dashing off. It was a show that started with an incredible colour-soaked bang but peaked too soon, ultimately impacting less than it could have.