Little Red

Little Red has turned up the cinematic for their second full-length effort, the grandiose Midnight Remember.

If you were a fan of the band’s first offering, 2008’s Listen To Little Red, you might find those terms confusing, as that album was all lo-fi 60s pop. But if you’ve heard first single, ‘Rock It’, and I’d be surprised if you haven’t considering radio’s recent obsession with it, then you’ll already have an idea about Little Red’s new sound.

I really needn’t say much about the pressure of the second record, for it has been well documented in music folklore — some bands play it safe and produce more of the same and some bands try too hard to make something different. But sometimes you get an album that is a progression, an album that brings something new to a band’s sound without losing what was great about the old, an album that is – dare I say it – more mature. Sometimes you get a Midnight Remember.

It sounds like Little Red had quite a lot of fun in the years between their breakthrough album and the recording of this one — many of the tracks are ostensibly odes to all night partying. ‘Rock It’ will no doubt be the party anthem of the summer, especially if your attending one of the many festivals the band is playing, but the euphoric ‘Slow Motion’ and ‘Little Bit Of Something’ hold their weight, too, as dance numbers.

These days it seems you just can’t have a second album without putting a few synths in, and Midnight Remember doesn’t disagree. But the difference here is that they are never overpowering, used to complement the songs rather than define them. Elsewhere, extra instrumentation includes trumpet, saxophone and a trombone, which gives the album a magnificent feel.

While Little Red have created a more majestic sound on this album, they thankfully haven’t neglected what is surely their greatest strength — their vocal harmonies. Having four singers certainly gives you a lot of options and Little Red aren’t afraid to go all out. As a result, there are ‘woooaaaahhoooo’s a-plenty.

‘Chelsworth’ is as perfect a closing song as you’ll ever find, beginning with a bright piano riff, before a cheery harmonica line slowly drags the the whole thing into a dedication to the end of the night, “My dearest friend/ will you give your hand/ and drink one last good draught.”

Little Red have always worn their influences on their sleeve and it almost gets them into trouble about halfway through Midnight Remember. For instance, you might find that during rocking out to ‘Place Called Love’ you have to stop for a moment and say to yourself: “Wait, is it ok for me to like this, because it kinda sounds like Tom Jones?” Well trouble not, confused listener, for you’re in very safe, very cool hands. And its way sexier than Tom Jones.

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.”

Little Red have come a long way since I first encountered them as a small support act for the Whiskey Go Go’s and Vasco Era two years ago. New and exciting,  the band had a sound that, though obviously influenced by 50′s and 60′s vocal groups, was something fresh and innovative for the Melbourne scene. Now, after mass airplay and two solid years of touring, Little Red have become a firm favourite in Melbourne, so it was no surprise that their show at the Hi-Fi Bar had completely sold out. The band is about to take some time away from the road to record some new material, and it seemed that no-one wanted to miss out on seeing them live before they take a break.

As I made my way downstairs at the Hi-Fi, the shambolic sounds of the Ground Components greeted my ears. Not at all familiar with their music, I had no idea what to expect. Although my pop and r’n'b-inclined companions were not so keen, there was a lot of love about for the band. And the sight of Little Red’s Dom (guitar, vocals) in the crowd, dancing and waving his arms about, was a perfect example of this.

While the Ground Compoents certainly had a lot of supporters in the crowd, it was clear that everyone was there for Little Red. When the opening set came to an end, it was kill-or-be-killed in an attempt to secure a good spot in front of the stage. We then had to endure a half-hour wait, and discovered that, though winter has definitely begun in Melbourne, it has not – and possibly will never – hit the Hi-Fi bar. It was hotter than hell in front of the stage. Just when we thought we were going to melt into the floor beneath us, Little Red strolled out, picked up their guitars, and the party started.

‘Fight Song’, an oldie from the band’s debut album, Listen To Little Red, showed the crowd that they had made the right decision in coming along to the gig. Within seconds the room was filled with the sound of screaming girls, an excited crowd enthusiastically clapping along, and of course, the sweet, sweet sounds of Little Red. If it wasn’t for the undeniably 21st-Century clothing adorning the room full of fans, the scene could have been mistaken for a doo-wop gig of the 1960s.

As the crowd danced the night away, Little Red provided some amazing tunes – album tracks ‘Witch Doctor’, ‘Misty, I’ and ‘Fool’ sounded as solid as ever, while ‘Speedo’ allowed Adrian (guitar, vocals) to display his vocal talents (this song was missing from the setlist the last few times I’ve seen the band). The show was an equal mix of old and new songs. The new stuff was very well received, and, given the amount of people singing along to some of the new songs (of which there are no recorded versions available), it seemed that there were a lot of serious Little Red fans in the crowd (myself included, I must admit).

New track ‘In My Bed’ was a highlight, as was ‘Rock It’ – allowing Dom to put down his guitar and join in the dancing. The crowd loved it. Another highlight (if not musically, then certainly in terms of entertainment value) was when Ground Components – and various friends-of – joined Little Red onstage for a rendition – duet, almost – of ‘It’s Alright’. When the main act disappeared off stage, it was not long before they returned for an encore, and ended things with a sweet, sugary bang – crowd-pleaser, ‘Coca Cola’. It was also pleasing to see them save their first single, ‘Waiting’, for later in the set – it’s one of my favourites.

It’s impossible to have a bad time at a Little Red gig. The vibe is always amazing, and Friday night at the Hi-Fi didn’t disappoint. Towards the end of the set I turned my head to see just how full the venue was, and couldn’t believe just how many people had turned out to support this talented young band. Their music is infectious and happy and it’s clear they love what they do. A look from Quang (bass vocals) or Tom (vocals, tombourine, harmonica) is also enough to make any female fan’s heart melt, while it’s difficult not to crack a happy grin at the sight of Taka smiling from behind his drums.

Little Red don’t have to try to make the crowd dance or have fun. Their ‘doo-wop punk’ speaks for itself. They are a live act that just keeps getting better, and, though we may be about to endure several months without any live shows from the boys, I am sure that their next recording – and subsequent tour – will be worth the wait.

I haven’t been to a Big Day Out in quite a while. The last time was back when it took months to scrape together enough pocket change earned on a sub-minimum teenage wage just to buy the ticket, and when timetables were studied forensically – the day planned meticulously weeks in advance. Deciding which of your idols to sacrifice in the inevitable event of a time-slot clash would be the toughest decision of the year.

This year was different. Having spent less time worshipping the once-sacred Triple J, a lot of the side acts were kinda foreign. And with a little more cash in the bank, there was less desire to wring every last drop of value from the ticket, running around madly trying to catch the maximum acts.

This year, I gave myself time to wander, to relax and enjoy. And in the interest of a holistic review, I made a point of venturing beyond the main stages I had once welded myself to.

My first lap of the grounds took me past local rockers Children Collide and Birds of Tokyo. Both acts pulled a fairly solid crowd considering the early slot, and seemed to benefit from being Melbourne acts playing in Melbourne to Australians on Australia day. A double-pang of patriotism.

And boy were the patriots out in force. Aussie hats, stickers, boob tubes, thongs, inflatable paraphernalia, tattoos (temporary and permanent) and, of course, flag capes, were standard fare on this sunny day of national celebration. But despite the faintly off-putting whiff of Cronulla, the bogans mostly seemed harmless.

After getting the lay of the land, I settled in the boiler room for local hip hop troupe, TZU. These guys were a lot of fun – and perfectly placed to amp the fledging dance crowd – delivering a highly energetic performance that had feet shuffling and hands thrust firmly in the air. Slotting in a ‘Sexual Healing’ breakdown mid-song towards the end of the set went down wonderfully, too.

Back out in the sun, Little Red was busy impressing a more subdued crowd gathered at one of the side stages. The turnout wasn’t huge, but the lads didn’t seem to mind. The ever-smiling five-piece bopped and doo-whopped their way through hits from the debut album and also sprinkled in a few newbies, which sounded very promising.

The Ting Tings was the first international act I caught. The British two-piece wasn’t super-polished – the commercial hype overshadowed the fact that they were nothing more than a drummer and a pretty girl who could sorta play the guitar and work an effects loop thingy – but they played the hits people wanted to hear, and got the way-too-big-for-a-side-stage crowd jumping and singing along. The big finale, ‘That’s not my name’, threw the crowd into a frenzy.

Mid-way through the set a loser in a sparkly blue mullet wig climbed atop a sound tent in front of the stage, thrusting a protruding tent pole and pouring sunscreen all over his face. It wasn’t funny until people started hurling bottles at him, and he started swiping at the incoming objects like a slower, lamer King Kong. Once a bottle eventually connected with his face, he climbed down into the arms of security.

Next up, one of the festival highlights: Black Kids. The band’s Floridian accents and upbeat indie pop combined with the heat and young, brightly dressed audience to make you feel like you were part of one of those TV-famed teen US beach parties. The band seemed genuinely happy and appreciative to be performing in a far-off land, again heightened the fun-factor. ‘I’m not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance with you’ had the crowd screaming along in absolute bliss, and was one of the most enjoyable moments of the day.

After swinging by a shonky hot dog place (the grimy red meat and stale bread came from the bain marie wrapped in airtight plastic, dripping with condensation – some off-putting new piece of festival food technology), I chilled out in front of TV on the Radio. The band performed well, but the sound from where I was stationed – slightly to the right of the stage – was shocking. It was as if the wind was carrying the music from side to side, rather than front to back. Quite annoying.

I arrived back in the boiler room in time to catch the tail end of Lupe Fiasco, who was incredible. Watching the athletic Chicagoan rapper spit out ‘Paris Tokyo’ and ‘Superstar’ in front of an enormous sounding backing band, I couldn’t help but regret not catching the full show.

My Morning Jacket proved to be an ideal act to kick back and enjoy a vodka slushy to in the afternoon sun, before it was time to head back to the boiler room for UK dance duo, Simian Mobile Disco. It felt a little odd gettin’ down to the grimy sounds of ‘Hustler’ and ‘It’s the Beat’ in the daylight, but it was a very enjoyable set that left no room for rest.

Feet still shuffling, and after a raft of rave reviews, the Silent Disco tent beckoned. For the uninitiated, Silent Disco involves whacking on a headset, choosing one of two music channels created live by DJs in the tent, and dancing like a fool in unison with around 50 per cent of the crowd – a surprisingly fun novelty, but one that words never seem to do justice. It is difficult to escape a feeling of guilt when you think about all the acts performing beyond the confines of the tent, though.

Outside, after seven hours of festivities, electropop quintet Hot Chip did a mighty good job of keeping energy levels aloft with the highlight performance of the day. God, it was good – the kind of live music you get lost in, with tunes you can’t get out of your head, and a steady dance beat you can’t resist. ‘Over and Over’ stood out as late crowd fave, which was topped off with a final cover of Sinead O’Connor’s ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’. Some arms were linked with their neighbours, others were swaying in the air, and others still were wielding lighters. Either way, though, the crowd was involved and loved it.

And then came Niel Young, a headline decision that was – lets face it – pretty strange. Admittedly, I’ve never been a big fan of Young. His is music I associate with parents and ‘hit music’ radio stations. It always felt distant.

That said, he put on a damn fine performance, and it was heartening watching pockets of over-50s clapping and jumping giddily to the opening chords of each new song. The claps and cheers, if somewhat diminished from earlier in the day, were built on genuine appreciation, rather than amped up excitement. And if Young was perturbed by a crowd that mostly probably hadn’t bought tickets to see him, he didn’t show it.

It’d be difficult to find a bigger contrast than the Neil Young/Prodigy back-to-back that the timetable threw at punters, and it killed the mood a little. It wasn’t that Young was too downbeat, or that the Prodigy was too extreme, it was just too sharp a change too quickly – like suddenly running out of hot water in the shower.

I didn’t actually stick around for the Prodigy for long, after 11 busy hours it was two much to find a fourth or fifth wind. The psychotic strobes became a slightly off-putting distraction rather than an energising tool, and with a fair portion of the group’s fans’ eyes popping out of their sockets with intense, drug-fuelled excitement, the boiler room was no longer a place for cheery dance fun. That’s not to say the Prodigy didn’t perform well; you couldn’t ask for a more energetic set, and when ‘Firestarter’ dropped the crowd went insane. But I was pooped from a very solid day.

Eddy Current Suppression Ring was a gift to me from my friend Leigh. The Melbourne four-piece has been getting solid word-of-month for a while now; it showed at the Melbourne Big Day Out, where a decent crowd waited for singer Brendan Suppression, guitarist and keyboardist Eddy Current, bassist Rob Solid and drummer Danny Current to come out and live up to their reputation as one of the nation’s best live bands.

Brendan Suppression is known for a few things: his intensity, Michael Jackson-esque gloves, tendency to sing with his back to the crowd and having a dance on stage. Add to this list a bit of singing while crowd-surfing among his teenage and 20-something fans in the summer sun. The band’s songs are often lyrically and musically simple but in the best possible way. Topics range from the hypnotism of television to battling indecision (‘Which way to go’) and the idea of a lover as novel to be read over and over. The band doesn’t play that often but they’re a sight to behold and destined for greatness.

Fittingly, Eddy Current was followed by fellow Melbourne faves Little Red, termed “original doo-wop punk” on Myspace. All the right noises are being made about Little Red; they’re great live, make good harmonies, they’re cute as can be and play lotsa catchy tunes. The five-piece has gathered critical acclaim for its debut album, Listen to Little Red (read Laneway‘s review here) and mass appeal is probably next. Melbourne BDO was not the band’s finest hour, but their set was still entertaining enough and by the sounds of it, their second album will also be a fun little corker.

For energy and excitement, though, it was hard to top Lupe Fiasco. The American rapper is supposed to be retiring after his next album – sad news for those who’ve not seen him live but have appreciated such songs as ‘Kick Push’, ‘Superstar’, ‘Touch the Sky’ (with Kanye West) and ‘Daydreamin’ (with the lovely Jill Scott). The man is as intelligent as he is hot, and after dancing like mad in the boiling Boiler Room with his shirt off, he ended the euphoric one-hour set with a forward flip and the crowd went bananas. Apparently he didn’t play very long at his solo concert at the Palace the next night, but it’s better to eat a little butter than a tub of margarine.

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.