Pornland
The Espy
December 25, 2008

Rewind to the final days of summer, 2007: I was enjoying a sizable music festival spliff with a stranger who called himself The Pirate, and who initiated the exchange for no other reason than I was camped next to him, when I enquired dopily about the porno-grooves spiralling from the stereo of his nearby panel van (of course).

The portly, scruffy-haired gent proceeded to deliver a nugget of musical wisdom that was, in hindsight, probably one of the greatest I have received to date: “This’s Pornland, man,” he said, a steady plume of smoke snaking from his nostrils, curling to a haze around his bloodshot eyes. “You’ve gotta check ‘em out if you get a chance.”

. . . . . . .

“Merrr-ryyy Christ-maaas, motherrr fuckerrrs!” roared Pornland front-man, Slatty D, as he strutted onto the stage wearing a cheap Santa suit and black eye mask, microphone in one hand, jug of beer in the other, to the roar of a boozed-up 1.15 am Espy crowd.

The audience was a 20-80 mix of young St Kilda trendies, probably there by chance, and dedicated fans (a little older, and with grins planted firmly on their faces in anticipation), who lapped up the special chance to catch a sporadic reformation show.

The band commanded the full attention of both groups - it’s difficult to tear your eyes away from seven fully developed men, barely clothed in a combination of brightly-coloured leather, capes, top hats, vests and fur coats, topped off with thick mutton chops and teenage moustaches. Pretty much every bad stripper stereotype you can imagine.

Flanking Slatty D from stage left to right: the sultry Marccio ran his mouth over the the sax and flute, Dylan ‘the heart-throb’ McCoy dominated the guitar, Maccy G pounded the drums, Son of a Famous Man sensually slapped the bass, Baboona Valdez wrapped his tongue around the backing vocals, while Security Dirty Joe watched over the whole, filthy mess.

Then there was the extended Pornland family, dragged on stage as entertainment over the course of the night. This time, Boy, a topless waiter with suspenders, distributed cans of beer and a bottle of vodka to the band and front-row; Pilot Man, dressed as (you guessed it) a pilot, was playfully ushered off stage for drunkenly slurring and confusing a verbal song intro; and something that looked suspiciously like previous band-buddy Wolf Man appeared, dressed head-to-toe in some kind of furry animal costume, albeit for a few fleeting moments, and referred to only as, “What the fuck is that?”

“I’m gonna stick my dick in your motherfucking ass,” squealed Slatty D, launching into the first offering — the aptly-themed ‘Pontius Pilate’, a risqué ditty (in any other context) about the man who famously sent Jesus to his death.

I like to party / Jesus died so we could party / I like to party / Pontius Pilate start the party

All the classics were performed with smiling, pornographic zeal, and, where possible, given a festive slant.

“All I want for Christmas is an erection,” Slatty D exclaimed, leading into ‘Get it up’.

It’s been so long that it’s hard to remember / what it feels like to have a stiff member / … I just can’t seem to get it up / get it up

He also lovingly dedicated ‘Old Man’ to his deceased father.

He is nearly 80 but he likes to party / Experience has made him a hit with all the ladies / He likes to get it on / Get it on with his slippers on

This the kind of gig - and band, for that matter - you stumble upon. A few non-descript posters will pop up around the venue, and in a handful city alleys, to inform the initiated and those they’ve relayed their tales to. Then the word-of-mouth extends. Even within the Espy, pre-show, you hear mutterings: “Have you seen Pornland before?” “Stick around, they’re great.” And so the community grows, cemented once the newcomers are inevitably wowed by the sheer energy, and chaotic presence of the enduring porno-funk collective. It’s one of those refreshingly grass-roots, organic phenomena - boosted by the fact that the band only plays a couple of times a year, at most. The myth grows between shows.

After a steady hour-and-a-half, Pornland had exhausted the vodka and beer, and the hip-swinging audience weren’t far behind. But the band couldn’t escape the powerful call for its undeniable crowd-fave.

“Slap that ass, motherfucker!” screamed hundreds of punters, off kilter, “motherfucker, slap that ass!” (Repeat).

It’s by far the simplest song on offer - indeed, these are its only lyrics - with clear late-night, bouncy, sing-along appeal.

The band joined in on the chat, yelling along with the audience at first, before a rhythmic bass slap acted as a well-needed metronome, quickening to the right pace, and exploding into a blur of squealing wxxxah guitar, howling keys, group derrière-slapping, and call and response.

Pornland concluded the show with the slower, arm-in-arm, sway-along number, ‘Strudel Juice’.

Studel juice, dripping in my pants / Strudel juice, every time I dance / Oh, my strudel juice, it’s gonna flow / Oh, my strudel juice, I think I’m gonna blow

The band was ex-troduced, each member bidding adieu with an appreciative solo, before leaving with a final, “Happy birthday Jesus.”

Utterly incredible.

. . . . . . .

Note: At the conclusion of my smoking session with The Pirate, he jumped from the roof of his panel van onto one of our camping chairs, which shattered under his seafaring strength. I never saw him again. If perchance you read this, Pirate, you’re a legend.

Image courtesy of Pornland

Jeff Lang
The Spiegeltent
November 9th, 2008

The professionalism with which Jeff Lang performed on this warm Sunday night at the Spiegeltent was a notable change for a man who, in the past, made a habit of sitting down to tell jokes and stories while tuning his guitar and deciding which song best suits the mood.

This time he had all his guitars - and even a turkish cümbüş - pre-tuned and lined up in the order he was to use them. But this efficiency in no way negated the feelings synonymous with watching Lang and double bass-player Grant ‘the Squire’ Cummerford perform live.

There were the usual elements that make a Lang show so intimate and accessible: seeing a friend awkwardly run into Lang before the show in the Arts Centre toilet; standing behind and briefly talking to Jeff’s parents as they bought tickets to their son’s show; receiving warm smiles from his sister as she stood by the album table; and later, observing his infant child applaud his father after ‘Copper Mine’, an archaically modern folk -blues tune, during which his cümbüş - which apparently makes a nifty bedpan - introduced itself.

Self-described as “disturbed folk music, a tangled roots music stew,” Lang’s seducing lap-steel runs and tender acoustic melodies sit alongside - and never in place of - his poignant song-writing. His live performances only seem to heighten their impressive qualities.

For the exceedingly polite crowd seated leisurely at small round tables inside the Spiegeltent, Jeff Lang came out blazing, confidently opening with a ride down ‘The Savannah Way’, a song appearing on his latest album, Half Seas Over, and one written with fellow Melbourne musician, Suzannah Espie. With a down-to-business attitude, he retained a deliberateness that did not merely go through the motions, but which was attentive to the songs’ demands. He appeared as merely a channel for his music, some vehicle through which these songs manifest themselves.

Most of the set was lifted from his latest album, despite the odd few songs to maintain a “Melbourne-centric theme.” Lang played two songs from, Whatever Makes You Happy (2004). ‘You Should Have Waited’, an unrequited love song set in Fitzroy, and ‘Slip Away’, dedicated to his good friend and fellow Melbournian, C.W. Stoneking.

Lang left out his epic rendition of ‘House Carpenter’ - an old traditional song about unfaithfulness and death - instead playing his balmy blues, ‘Everything is still’, from his 2001 album of the same name.

No recent Jeff Lang performance is complete without a tribute to the “late and great” Chris Whitley. This time he played ‘The Road Leads Down’, a song from their collaborative album, Dislocation Blues, telling the story of a love that is lost. At least that’s what it could be about. Here ‘The Squire’ showcased his skills in an extended, but never out of place, double bass solo.

Special mention must also go to Lang’s reworking of an old folk song that appears on Half Seas Over. Rest assured, if you are not a folk-convert after the delightful yet slightly disturbing (two characteristics very at home within Jeff’s work) ‘My Mother Always Talked To Me’, you never will be.

When Jeff Lang and Grant Cummerford disappeared offstage after 55 minutes, the timid crowd found themselves chanting for an encore. A fly on the wall backstage would certainly have observed a determined Lang discussing with Mr. Cummerford how they could make the crowd boisterous.

Audience participation is the key, so when the two performers appeared on stage again and introduced ‘Newman Town’, the final song on the new album, Lang coached different sections of the crowd to keep two distinctive beats. Most people managed to keep time, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they didn’t; Jeff knew where he was going, and, if his latest albums and shows are any indication, has he has no intentions of slowing down.

By the end, the Spiegeltent had come alive.

C.W. Stoneking
The Spiegeltent
October 26, 2008

Two years after the release of King Hokum, C.W. Stoneking moves from cheeky duet ballads towards a blend of authentic blues and jungle music. His second album, Jungle Blues, was inspired in part by tales of previous travels - surviving a shipwreck off the west coast of Africa, and losing his tenor banjo and guitar in a New York yellow cab.

For the launch of his new record, C.W. entered the stage smiling, looking spick in a bow-tie, and very sprightly without his once-trademark top-hat. The other notable difference being that bottled water was the only liquid on stage.

Immediately, the crowd was content - listening to the first live version of the title track, Jungle Blues. With his band, the Primitive Horn Orchestra, his sexy steel Dobro guitar and his (new) banjo, The Spiegeltent came alive with authentic pre-war blues, jungle jazz and 1920s calypso.

The past 18 months have indeed been very successful for the Melbourne-based musician. The eventual success of King Hokum has transformed the old-muttering, beer drinking C.W., who for years played tunes in the corner of Collingwood pubs, into an old-muttering, (probably still) beer-drinking C.W. that stands centre stage under the bright lights of the hot and stuffy Speigeltent, to rapturous applause.

His anecdotes between songs are still met with almost constant giggling - the novelty of how a white man from 2008 can sound so much like a black man from the 1920s never wore off. However, his natural ability to delicately weave words in a delightfully unusual way provides the audience not only with fantastic music, but a complete performance that is truly superb.

The new and beautiful Jungle Lullaby, a song recorded after leaving his guitar and banjo in a New York taxi, relates the pain a musician feels after losing his strings. Even the amusing background stories to Darktown Shutters Blues and Homebound Blues, largely unknown even to some of the more hardened King Hokum fans, provide valuable context to what is being played.

The makeover of C.W. into a more accomplished performer has not diminished his authenticity at all. Almost halfway though one song he stopped playing, turned to drummer Jim White and then back to face the crowd, saying, “I’m going to do something unprofessional and start again, it’s just a little too fast for me.” It was unprofessional, but the crowd loved it.

More importantly though, C.W. provides an invaluable link to a forgotten time, to the Son House and Robert Johnson of the 1920s and 30’s. If you haven’t had the pleasure, please, sit back, grab a beer, relax, and give C.W. a spin.

C.W. Stoneking recently began a national tour. Locally, he will be playing:

- Ruby’s Lounge, Belgrave (27 November);

- The Peninsula Lounge, Moorooduc (28 November)

- The Corner Hotel, Richmond (29 November)

- The Corner Hotel, Richmond - matinee show (30 November)

- The Palais, Hepburn Springs (12 December)

Augie March
Forum Theatre
October 9, 2008

After One Crowded Hour topped last year’s Hottest 100 chart amid a spate of awards, Augie March’s status in Australia was catapulted above all expectations. The band’s hometown performance at the Forum on Thursday night was testament to this as fans packed the theatre’s grand halls for a special Live at the Wireless session for Triple J.

They were a little bit of everything, the crowd - some were clearly drawn by the novelty of give-away tickets, while others were eager for a sneak-peak at the upcoming fourth album, Watch me Disappear.

As the band launched into the set, it became clear they were under-practiced - front man Glenn Richards confirmed it had been six months since their last show. But the rawness of the material didn’t detract from the gig.

The album’s title track, Watch Me Disappear, began threateningly, building quickly towards a chorus that bordered on stadium rock. Pennywhistle’s playful instrumentals made you smile, conjuring images of the Australian landscape, while The Slant overflowed with sorrow, underlined by Richards’ aching vocals.

Farmer’s Son reminds you of the plight of young farmers in today’s drought stricken rural areas and City of Rescue, with its fast paced a-little-bit-country snare brushing, makes you forget again. Most of the songs were themed around life in Australia, and Richards’ voice really gelled them into something special. It was a strong, poetic mix of rock, country and folk.

Richards and drummer David Williams were captivating in the sometimes lengthy changeovers between songs, whilst guest guitarist Dan Kelly tried his hardest to stay out of the limelight. The charming on stage banter made you feel as if you were watching a few mates roll off some tunes at your local.

As the band led the audience through the new album, the overall impression was cohesion. This is a release without an obvious hit, but it speaks with meaning and will deservedly be enjoyed by many more now that One Crowded Hour has brought broad attention to Richards’ skillful song writing.

It was a chilled out show, without excessive showmanship. No one really let loose, needing rather to focus getting the music right. It was also lot less polished than their studio work. A couple of false starts and a retake perhaps wasn’t the best way to show off the new album, but the crowd enjoyed what was on offer and mirrored the relaxed attitude of the band from the comfort of the theatre’s seating.

Luke Steele
The Toff in Town
August 5, 2008

The Sleepy Jackson are among the most revered alt-pop talents in Australia, so naturally when I heard that Luke Steele - the creative force behind the band - was coming to Melbourne as part of his first ever solo tour, I bought tickets with great anticipation.

Not much had been said about the direction The Sleepy Jackson would take after the band’s 2006 release Personality: One Was a Spider. One Was a Bird. But it was announced earlier this year that Steele would be pushing the band aside for some album collaborations with PNAU and Daniel Johns. These are exciting prospects, but Tuesday night’s performance was more of a retrospective than a groundbreaking insight into what the future holds.

What was most enticing about the gig was the promise of hearing Steele’s music boiled down to just an acoustic guitar and vocals. It was an exercise in making the complex simple; an intimate, unembellished affair.

You Are So Cold, Miles Away and Acid in My Heart worked perfectly in the minimalist performance. But it was the previously production-heavy tracks such as Good Dancers and Rain Falls For Wind that transferred across with the most style. Adjusting these songs as required, Steele managed to intertwine them with the melodies of the more acoustically suited tracks to create some impressive, seamless medleys.

Hearing tracks that are distinct in their recorded state become almost one and same gives you an insight to what Steele and The Sleepy Jackson do in the studio. Behind the group’s swirling vocal harmonies and string accompaniments sit some wonderfully simple songs.

On stage, these accoustic versions played out beautifully and propelled Steele’s vocals to the fore. From bass through to soprano, he pulled it off.

As expected, there was an eccentric side lurking beneath surface of Steel’s performance. Looping together some improv drum beats and guitar snippets, the music ventured from time to time towards the avant-garde, complemented by tales about marriage and children.

Then, after a relaxed hour of songs, with a few newbies thrown in, the audience was set adrift with a whimsical encore of What a Wonderful World.

Lightspeed Champion
Northcote Social Club
July 30, 2008

He wears a massive, furry grey hat - one of those hats you wear in the arctic because it covers virtually everything but your face. He is a bit shy at first - a bit of a slow start. Then he notices the audience digs him and his music. Some people are singing along. They cheer when he tells them which song he will play next.

“This is one of my favourite shows,” frontman Devonte ‘Dev’ Hynes says near the end of Lightspeed Champion’s hour long set at the Northcote Social Club on Wednesday night. “No really,” trying to convince a crowd that doesn’t need convincing. He tells us of touring European festivals and the shit shows where he suspects the only reason there was anyone watching them at all was because they were in a tent and it was raining outside.

And perhaps this dialogue says more than I can about UK’s Lightspeed Champion and ex-Test Icicles member, Dev Hynes. Dev is a bit unsure of himself. Read his blog on the band’s official site, and you’ll see what’s going on in his head: his preoccupation with girls; his own self-esteem; his tales of being on the road. His lyrics are quirky and self-reflective, vulnerable and personal. And he’s not afraid to swear - a lot.

For the tour, he brings along a group of multi-talented musicians. The lady drummer, Anna Prior, also plays the guitar. Mike Siddell plays with passion the violin, the keys, guitar and bass. Dev’s longtime friend Mike, aka The Train Chronicles, plays the guitar and bass. And of course Dev himself plays guitar, keys and drums. They all switch. They all sing.

The set consisted of many of the tracks from their only album, Falling Off The Lavender Bridge, as well as a few new tracks. Opening with the album’s first song Galaxy Of The Lost, slowing down with Salty Water, continuing with the personal Everyone I Know Is Listening To Crunk, adding in a new song the band had “only practiced a handful of times and they were all today”, and finishing with the epic Midnight Surprise, to name a few.

The mix of folk, country and pop was fun and original. Having the show in the intimate bandroom at the Northcote Social Club definitely helped the atmosphere. But ultimately it was the passion the music was played with, the interaction Dev had with the crowd and his obvious appreciation and shock that people like him, and the multitalented group of musicians that made the night so successful.

Lightspeed Champion did come out for an Encore, but not with the song Dev would have chosen to end on. Although finishing with All To Shit, the gig definitely didn’t go that way.

Photos courtesy of Adam Pattison.

British India
Corner Hotel
July 18, 2008

On the eve of the release of their sophomore album Thieves, British India delivered a burly performance in the gloomy and modest confines of Richmond’s Corner Hotel.

In front of a mixed crowd of punters, the four Melbourne boys punctually and quietly took to the stage. It wasn’t a huge audience, but with three Melbourne shows in as many nights it was nothing to be disappointed about.

And so the set began: Kicking off with a couple of strong tracks from their new album, the band indicated their intentions to stick with the musical formula that worked so well for them in 2007. The songs - This Dance Is Loaded and God Is Dead, Meet the Kids - were given a somewhat muted response, expected from a crowd hearing something fresh and undiscovered.

It was the familiar territory of Teenage Mother that set the tone for the rest of the night and when it was promptly followed by the current single I Said I’m Sorry, there was no going back. The gentle sway that curiously followed the music early on gave way to frenzied dancing and some very entertaining crowd surfing.

On a whole it was their older material that rose above the new songs. The new stuff just seemed to get a bit lost between the hits everyone was waiting for. Last year’s breakthrough singles Tie Up My Hands and Run the Red Light were definitely the highlight of the show, providing the impetus for spouts of unruly moshing and hearty sing-a-longs from the crowd.

Dedications to Bob Dylan, Bill Henson and anyone who took less than 15 minutes to get to the gig left me pondering the meaning of a few of the songs, but such was the nature of the music that it didn’t really matter what it’s message was; it’s all about the energy it instills in you.

Although fundamentally the band never really diverged from the album versions of their songs, there was something vastly different about seeing them live. The clean sounds of their studio work made way for the thrashing sounds of distorted guitars interspersed with some screeching lead work. It felt rough around the edges and ended up feeling decidedly more punk than pop. Not a bad set at all.

Little Red
Listen to Little Red
Hooch Hound Records

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.

Tin Alley
Polar Bear

Melbourne trio Tin Alley’s single Polar Bear kicks off with a killer riff that leaves you anticipating something in the realm of The Exploders’ fast and punchy My Country Brain. Instead, it drops off into a verse bereft of any of the grunt its intro so emphatically promises.

It sounds empty: lackluster vocals, bass devoid of melody, and scattered with frustrating reminders of a riff that really should have been carried all the way through this song. It’s certainly in keeping with the band’s self described “stripped down indie rock” style, but the track doesn’t come together in a way that keeps you interested - even during it’s more fluid and audibly richer second half.

Nonetheless I reckon it’s going to take a while to get that opening riff out my head.

Make up your own mind - check the track out here.