Having decidedly shunned the alt-arts ‘cool’ movement of its byway peers in recent years, Coverlid Place’s famed pool-hall-cum-nightclub is a trashy blemish on an otherwise trendy bar scene - a laneway oddity.

The venue’s owners have also attempted to thrust together the quiet gaming crowd and the raucous, late-night, can’t-remember-my-own-name-or-what-I’m-doing-on-top-of-you karaoke throng.

The approach has long recieved mixed reviews.

Charltons has been variously described as “fantastic fun” and a “top venue”, through to “It’s places like this that hold back the human race”, “might have been something unique in the 80s when it opened, but today it’s less than nothing” and, “If you like getting kicked out of a bar or club, pushed down a flight of stairs and elbowed to the jaw then this is the place for you”.

But this interesting clientele clash, combined with the bar’s stubborn, closed-to-change self confidence, is precisely why the venue is worth visiting.

For the uninitiated, Charltons is a short stroll down Coverlid, right off the Chinatown end of Little Bourke, past the violent stench of surrounding dumpsters and a neighbouring adult store.

A wooden shark wielding an eight-ball, teeth glinting, beckons revellers from the dishevelled walkway into a large doorway labelled ‘Charltons’ / ‘Allans Music loading area: keep clear’. Here, an old elevator, complete with what looks suspiciously like a bullet hole, waits to slowly creak and grind its way up to level two.

When the lift finishes its arduous climb, letting out a tired ‘ding’ to announce its arrival, the doors (hopefully) open to reveal a dimly-lit bar at the far end of the room, a small stage to the left, and two large pool and games rooms to the right.

The walls are painted dark, and there are no windows - no natural light. It’s drab, and slightly disorientating.

Charltons opens at 2pm most days. During the daytime hours you’ll find a mixed handful of Melbournians, mostly young, having a hit of pool, a flick of foosball, or a thwack of air hockey (”direct from Spain - the world’s fastest and most exciting air hockey table is here!”, a sign boasts) . There are also plenty of aged arcade games to burn through your coinage.

The once-green carpet in the games room is old and tattered, worn down to its grey underneath in some parts. It breathes musty smoke and beer from years of abuse. On the walls, home-made posters and amateur photographs advertise gaming tournaments from years ago. A sound system pumps out hits of the early, mid and late 90s. Drinks are cheap before 10pm.

As the hours wear on, the music gets louder and slightly more diverse (cue: Jimmy Barnes and Billy Joel), and the bar area begins to fill up. Karaoke kicks off at about 10.30pm most nights. The talent standard isn’t great - pitch and timing generally take a backseat to volume - but all vocalists are recieved warmly.

The bar really comes into its own on Fridays and Saturdays, when management fires up what it likes to call ‘Cage Nite Club’.

Two burley bouncers warden the Cage - they’re not the friendliest of chaps but, in keeping with the lighting scheme, they’re dim enough not to pose too much of a problem. A group of friends once smuggled an entire slab of stubbies past them, and churned through it question-free over the course of the night.

The Cage crowd, an entertaining mix of can’t-get-in-anywhere-else 18-year-olds, after work lower-rung suits, and the occasional cheap-drinking uni student, are loud but friendly. By midnight the dance area in front of the stage is full, and punters are in high sing-along spirits. Despite the earlier mention of stairs and elbows, I’ve never seen or feared a fight at Charltons.

Charltons isn’t the type of venue you’d show an out-of-towner to illustrate Melbourne’s rich cultural underbelly, but the place can be a lot of fun. It’s an enduring throwback to the CBD’s cheaper, dingier days - before laneway projects, $20 cover charges and lift safety standards.

The website is host to a much wider array of budget eyesores (its banner below is a nice precursor). The collection entitled ‘Child Mannequins’ is a shocker.

Last November, indie-retro-pop-rock-harmonisers Little Red found themselves placed peculiarly alongside homemade toffee and scone stalls, on stage at the East Ivanhoe Primary School fete. Flanked by Wilbur Wilde (saxophonist of Hey Hey It’s Saturday fame and Ivanhoe East resident), the five young Melbourne lads rocked the schoolyard with trademark grins and enthusiasm.

“We never turned down a gig,” says singer-bassist Quang Dinh, describing the band’s difficult climb up the lower rungs of the city’s crammed music scene. It’s an approach that has earned the group a big thumbs up from the alt-music community, though Dinh assures me Little Red’s fresh brand of up-beat doo-wop was also a hit with the school mums.

It’s plain to see why. On stage the boys deck themselves out in collars, suits and spiffy shoes, oozing scruffy schoolboy charm. Add four-way harmonies, punchy bass lines and light, catchy guitar jingles, and you’ve got a recipe for timeless fun.

The fete gig was actually more than a kooky experiment. Months earlier the boys had approached Wilde (a regular at singer-guitarist Adrian Beltridge’s video store), and asked for a helping hand on a then upcoming long player. The local music veteran agreed, and asked Little Red to play the fete in return.

“We had this song (Jackie Cooper) and it was kinda missing something,” recalls Dinh. “We imagined a little sax solo or something. So Adrian just asked Willie if he wanted to be on the CD - we gave him a copy of the song, and he loved it.

“He pretty much came into the studio, had a yarn for about half an hour - which ate into our studio time, but his stories were good so it didn’t matter - and kicked out the solo in under a quarter-of-an-hour.”

Time was tight because the band had essentially begged and borrowed its way through the recording process, with no real budget to speak of. The studio and producer (Steven Schram) were wrangled free for three days only, and there were 16 songs to power through.

“We recorded it bare boned,” the bassist says. “We just set up the equipment, got the levels and the sound right, and hit record. We did have to do some over-dubs, but 90 per cent of it’s live. That’s how we wanted it to sound.

“It was a bit harder, just because we’re usually drunk when we play live. And we’re usually excited and nervous. But in the studio we were completely sober, still trying to groove, and get the same kind of rawness in.

“In some areas, in terms of musicianship, we didn’t have time to get it all right. But we’ve never been a band that’s been about musicianship, I don’t think. It’s pretty much about song writing. We’ve got three very talented song writers.”

The critics wholeheartedly agree. The product that emerged from the hectic studio sessions, Listen to Little Red, hit the shelves a couple of weeks ago (read Laneway’s thoughts here) and propelled the fellas to indie-rock posterboy status. You can’t flick through more than a couple of pages of a newspaper or magazine without stumbling on a spectacularly adoring Little Red review, or ‘next big thing’ prediction.

For those who prefer numerics, the album debuted 29th on the national ARIA chart, and came in at number 13 in terms of Victorian sales. “We’ve done the hard yards here, so we’ve got as many fans in Melbourne as we have in the rest of the country,” says Dinh.

“Melbourne’s absolutely tops for us; it’s the best place in Australia for musicians to be. There were so many venues for us to try out our stuff in.

“We started out at the Tote and Barbukka. Some of our best gigs have been at the Old Bar though. That was back in the day, when we played there and it was like our drinking hole as well.

“Because it’s so small, it looks like there’s just a flood of people in there. On stage as well, it’s so crowded. It’s just a really good vibe at that place.”

But with Listen to Little Red making glorious sound waves nationwide, bigger gigs await. First the band hits Byron Bay’s iconic Splendour in the Grass festival, followed by a support tour with Vampire Weekend. Then they take to the road for a month-long, five-state headline tour.

“We’re probably going to have to hire some kind of Tarago, which is annoying because we all love to drink,” Dinh says, disappointed. “I’m not sure what’s been arranged, but whenever we have to drive there’s always problems with the four of us being too drunk, and somehow having to squirm out of the venue and get home.”

Once the tour hangover dies down, the band plans to start demoing material for album number two, slated for release in under a year. They are already rehearsing new material.

“Gigs are so much fun, but they’re not as permanent as recording something. A gig is like a fun moment in time. It just happens, and it’s awesome, but the reason it’s so good, in a way, is that you do forget it - you’re just living in the moment. But a record is more what we’re aiming at.

“One of the reasons we wanted to go independent was so that we could just release records whenever we want. We want to record as much as we can and get things sounding as great as possible. That’s not to say that we don’t like gigging - we love gigging - but recording is a lot more important for us.”

“We’re really just looking forward to the next thing. I don’t think its good to just kind of rest on what you’ve done.”

Listen to Little Red is a delightful mix of punchy bass lines, catchy guitar and retro-stylish vocals - with an emphasis on the plural - which breathes fresh life into the cheery surf sounds of the Beach Boys, and the early upbeat bop of the Beatles.

Its 16 tracks clock in at a snappy 39 minutes, and it’s the most fun thirteen-twentieths of an hour to come out of Melbourne in quite a while. There’s a plethora of bubblegum pop (Coca Cola, Isabella, Fight Song), a few dreamy ballads (Fool, If You’re Lonely, Autumn Leaves), and Speedo borders on the lighter side of lusty funk. Some 50s diner rock is thrown in - Little Annie is kind of tune you’d expect to find tucked away in a groovy old jukebox. She’s Not the Only One edges towards the garage, and Jackie Cooper takes you back to the bleachers from Grease. It’s quite a journey.

The real strength of the album - and the band, more broadly - is the balanced vocal power of its four front-men. One will scale the tenor notes while another scours the baritones; everything’s backed-up; there’s ample voice variety, and each meshes neatly in harmony with its surrounds.

Better yet: it sounds real. The album, released on the band’s own label, was recorded on an indie budget and shuns the meticulous production bells and whistles preferred by others in the pop field. It’s stripped-back; lo-fi, in a cool way.

Listen to Little Red is a very solid offering that will have you doo-woppin’, clappin’ and tappin’ your feet along from beginning to end.

It’s bright, tastes like sarsaparilla, and feels like summer. Grab a copy.

The Bamboos
Corner Hotel
June 14, 2008

A combination of well-honed musical talent, spiffy dress sense, and a big-band knack for engaging performance makes Melbourne deep-funk collective the Bamboos a charming live choice. I caught them at the Golden Plains festival earlier this year and was completely blown away, so when I heard they were playing a home-town show at the Corner Hotel, I snatched up tickets quick.

The eight-piece hit the adorably dingy Corner band room at about 11:30pm, and were warmly received by a grogged-up, loose, sold out crowd. The stage was neatly framed: three-piece horn section to the left; drums, bass and Hammond organ to the right; and front-man Lance Ferguson centred cooly with his guitar. Led by the band’s extraordinarily gifted drummer, the group launched into the apt opener The Bamboos Theme - a fast-pace instrumental peppered with flute solos which got excited feet pounding.

They pumped out another instrumental, before ushering vocalist Kylie Auldist onto the stage to the slower, thicker grooves of My Baby’s Cheating. Auldist played the part of sexy soulstress perfectly, belting out a seamless mix of soul, ballad and funk, and confidently flirting with her adoring crowd - though your mind couldn’t help but be removed from exotic New York funk clubs as she blurted out a couple of ‘youse’ and ‘thanks heaps’s through a thick Aussie accent. It added a nice local edge.

The show took a deeper, chilled out turn as Auldist introduced a female back-up vocalist to help the band traverse some of the more soulful ditties, and allowing Auldist to demonstrate the full scope of her own immense, powerfully penetrating voice. To an ongoing backdrop of cheers and applause, as she skilfully hit the highs and lows of tunes lifted from previous Bamboos releases and her new collaborative debut album, The Bamboos Present Kylie Auldist: Just Say.

From the live sounds of it, Just Say marks a significant shift for the band. While it rode to prominence on the back of catchy instrumentals with guest vocalists thrown in here-and-there, the full-time female vocals on this record has led to a fuller, more soulful sound. It’s slower, bigger and appears more complete, and is nicely suited to live performance.

Auldist left the stage to roaring ovation, as the band tied up the first part of the show with some up-beat funk. At around the gigs’s 40 minute mark the boys said a quick thanks and walked off stage - I’m not sure if it was a short intermission or a premature bid for an encore cheer, but it was clear they’d be back.

They returned for another half-hour, and promptly rebuilt momentum with some blistering instrumentals. They peaked with a stunningly energetic extended drum solo that saw the audience shift from excitement, to awe, to dazzle. When the rest of the band met the beat and kicked back in, the entire crowd burst into uncontrollable, dancing rapture - an ecstatic sea of bopping and gyration. It was undoubtedly the highlight.

The Bamboos were finally joined by a group of dancers named ‘the Bambettes’, who packed out the stage and helped the band ram the lively show home to some fun party-funk tunes. The extended group was bid a very warm goodbye from the loving home crowd, successfully wrapping up this round of launch shows. Watch this space for more Bamboos news.

Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome to Laneway.

If you’ve just stumbled in off the street, we’re happy to have you. Whether this a misguided Google search for a better-known music festival, or the product of a tip from a mate, we’re glad you shrugged your shoulders and clicked. The same goes to friends and contributors who have been dragged through the creation process for many months now. We hope you like it.

In the future, this space will carry something with a little more substance, but we thought it fitting to dedicate the very first article in the very first issue to a welcome; to usher in friends, new and old, and find them comfy seats; to explain a little about what we’re doing, and where we’re headed. Self indulgent? Perhaps. But this is our moment, so hear us out.

To know where you’re going, you’ve got to know where you’ve come from. And Laneway’s back-story is a combination of youthful vigour, severe unemployment, and a conversation in an inner-city apartment over a few too many beers. ‘You like Melbourne too?! We should totally write about it!’

The chatty duo in question, Chris Hawthorne and Luke McKenna, became your adoring editors. The former has a degree in film and television and a knack for design (don’t you think?), and the latter qualifications in journalism. But what they share – the true force behind Laneway – is a passion for Melbourne.

So too does the ensemble of writers, photographers and creative minds who have gathered to produce the magazine – a group that extends far beyond the names listed on the site. And we can’t thank them all enough for offering their time, talents and teachings.

We hope you can find something special, enjoyable and exciting in our combined efforts. We aim to bring you the most intriguing Melbourne coverage: unique insights and perspectives, thoughtful commentary, and our special pick of events. Articles you won’t find anywhere else.

We are small, but we like to think we’re able to punch above our weight. This relies on grassroots support from contributors who know Melbourne. If you would like to get involved – and you’re sincerely welcome – we’re only a click away.

In case you’re wondering, Laneway is still planned, written, edited and published from the same city apartment to which it owes its inebriated inception. It’s the magazine’s heart, in a way – windowing out over a filthy alley, and inspirationally neighboured by the best and worst the city has to offer.

The daylight bustle of local characters and whiffs of coffee, and late-night sounds of smashing bottles, seedy alleyway drug deals and shrieking arguments are our motivators - an everyday reminder of the cultural highs and lows we intend to cover.

So once again, welcome. Grab a drink, relax, and have a chat to the blogs. Soak up the culture. The reviews are downstairs, and the gallery is to your right. Enjoy.

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Photos courtesy of Al Wilson