shimweasel

Usually I post in the past tense. I feel it gives my words a gravity and heft that they might otherwise lack, caught as they are in the sticky amber of events past. Today, however, I feel like bucking a self-imposed rule and venturing out onto the unsteady tree-branch of the hypothetical: today, I wax lyrical about a gig before I go to it. Daring, no?

Enough florid verbiage, and on to my anticipated schedule. This week, there are no fewer than three concerts well worth your consideration: granted, two are by the same band, but I Love Them Just That Much. (ILTJTM? Ah, it’ll never catch on.) On the 25th, The Maladies are playing with Sub Audible Hum at the Excelsior in Surry Hills. On the 28th, The Thaw (bless their socially conscious little hearts) are guests at a benefit gig at 44 Little Oxford St for an organisation that feeds the homeless, and just to bring it all home, on the 31st The Maladies are playing with the Zion band at the Vanguard, within stumbling distance of my front door.

I believe I’ve already mentioned how terrific I think The Thaw are, and under the terms of the restraining order, I’m not allowed to propose marriage more than once a month here (btw, Steph, how about it? I’m a good cook, and I think you make pretty noises), so I’ll refrain. The Maladies, however, are equally lovely, and possibly even better dressed. Daniel the frontman rocks a velour lounge suit like nobody I know, makes Mother Teresa seem like a big-noting bitch, and sings like a very short angel. The music itself is hard to describe: there are country elements in there, but without that in-jokey irony you sometimes get with indie dabblers - instead of mesh trucker caps, flannel shirts and sly winks, they tap into something genuinely beautiful and unselfconscious. If you’re an obsessive cataloger who needs reference points (and I feel your pain, I am too), then the gentler Nick Cave might fit, as could Elvis Costello at his least manic.

I’d love to provide some teaser mp3s, but neither band has an album out yet. The Thaw has the Bruce Lee EP, which while undeniably gorgeous, does not make a good intro: it’s 15 minutes long, and I am yet to hear them play it live. Regardless, take a chance: both of these bands are orders of magnitude more creative than anything I’m hearing on the Sydney scene at the moment.

The Thaw

The Maladies

I’ve seen The Thaw a few more times since I last posted, and my gushing fanboyism has only increased. They’re ridiculously together for a relatively new band, and refreshingly friendly (even after I called Steph Kath.) Anyway. Gig reports.

First, a festival hosted by the lovely and only slightly loopy people at SheilaFest. As you might gather by reading the minutes (“liable to offend straight lesbians who play golf”?), this was not your standard gig: for one thing, the usual crowd of pale dudes in horn-rimmed glasses was notable by its absence: even after the first few bands played, I was still one of only three guys in a beautifully rambunctious crowd. I’d dragged along Madeleine as some kind of feminine armour, but it turned out to be unnecessary - they’re a very friendly group of people. Babymachine played first, and I’m having trouble describing them: they’re a lesbian rock act, but all the adjectives I can summon are “straight rock” and “ballsy”, neither of which fit well. AC/DC go carpetmunching? I don’t know. Fun, regardless - I had no idea songs about living in a regional centre could be so much fun.

I’m going to skip describing Jemima Jones in too much depth, because I’m trying to cut down on the whingeing I do here. I’m sure she’s a lovely person, and she’d have to be to get a spot on that bill with those musical talents. Very few people can make an acoustic guitar + voice sound interesting outside the confines of a campfire kumbayah, and she is not one of that rarefied breed. I’m sure it was hard growing up, Jemima, but can’t you just get a blog that no-one reads like the rest of us?

Milk looked to be more of the same: two girls in devastatingly frumpy attire, kicking it folk-style. Seeing this, Mad left, leaving me to the tender mercies of the assembled lesbians. Thankfully, halfway through their opening dirge, they stopped playing, stripped off the floral rags, and started playing something that more closely resembled music. Funny and sad and melodic and entirely worth checking out again.

To my shame, I can’t actually remember the next band that played. They weren’t outrageously good or outrageously bad, so I really just forgot about them.

The Thaw slayed foolz: Kat the drummer is inventive as fuck, and just following the beat was liable to induce epilepsy. I find it difficult to verbalise how much I like this band. Frankly, I think even they’re embarrassed - when I asked them if they’d autograph my copy of their Bruce Lee EP, they asked if I was sure I wanted to ruin it. Beautiful noise, terrific rhythms, and even the odd spot of melody for the more traditional listener. Lovely.

There was another band after the Thaw called Bracode, but I was sated and went home. Not very rock, but who wants hamburger when you’ve just had steak? (Hm. I think they’re all actually vegetarians, so they probably wouldn’t appreciate that analogy, but this is my blog and I can say what I like. Back off, The Thaw, I like you, but I’m still my own person!)

Peace.

Last night was the last time the popfrenzy collective will book the Mandarin Club. This is a bit sad: it was a reliable source of shit-hot bands you’ve never heard of for a very long time, and it will be sorely missed.

Anyway, the farewell performance had The Dumb Earth headlining. I’ve been a fan of their first album, “Walk the Earth” for a very long time, probably at least partially for the circumstances in which I heard it first: it has this raucous, ramshackle charm about it, like punk played by a hobo jazz orchestra who remember better times. Time seems to have worn away their rougher edges: they’re still dark, but there’s a smoothness that wasn’t there before. Regardless, an excellent show, and I’m very glad I went.

The second support was some guy playing covers on an acoustic guitar. Not very interesting.

The first support, however, starting kinda late, was a band called ninetynine, who were flat-out amazing. While they jumped around on instruments a lot, the basic recipe seemed to be powerful drums + foggy, overwhelming synths + piercing stabs of sound from either the xylophone or the guitar. Very very highly recommended, and I only wish they’d been able to start a little earlier and play a full set. (Sekrit message to Shae: download, listen, enjoy. And see ‘em if they tour Boden. :P)

Finally got my arse into gear and got the pictures off my phone. I know most of them suck, it’s a powerfully ordinary camera and I’m an even worse photographer. Still, I think they’re kinda sweet in a hopelessly incompetent way.

1. the elegant, minimalist syntax.
2. the multitude of frameworks available to solve problems like dependency management that (silly me) I hadn’t realised were not yet done deals.
3. the forty minutes it appears to be taking to install said frameworks
4. static, non-inferred types
5. one class per file
6. the wet, sucking sound my brain makes as I jam a pencil up my nose into it.

I had tonsillitis, it appears. And I’m sure that I did some useful things in the meantime, but now I have tonsillitis again, I can’t remember any of them. I need to increase the sampling rate on this bad boy.

alright, what’s happened… James Brown was cool if not lifechanging (the man is practically a pensioner), the Laneway festival was an absolute standout apart from the bouncer who wouldn’t let me in without ID, and I’ve started playing judo again, so the wad of raw cookie dough I like to call my body is slowly taking on the resilience of, well, cookies. Small steps - I don’t have to know how to break bricks by flexing my abdomen till I’m in my thirties and having my inevitable midlife crisis.

reviews of James Brown and Les Savy Fav coming soon. Right now, I’m concentrating on not choking on my own sputum - I’m sick as a dog, weak as a baby, and as reliant on hackneyed simile as a third-rate fantasy author.

So, last night. Pivot, Deerhoof, new venue for me: all very exciting, and usually enough to garner a long, rapturous post. Not today, however, for tonight, I’m going out to see James Brown.

James Fucking Brown, people. Wheeeee!

I’d like to apologise to everyone for the extreme awfulness of Vincent Over The Sink and Le Paper Dolls. Honestly, they were two of the worst bands I’ve ever had the misfortune of sitting through. I’d particularly like to apologise to Gordon, whom I convinced to come out and only stayed around for these two bands.

The Thaw were a welcome relief: three-piece all female band playing postrock. Dynamic, tight as hell, and kinda cute, too. Reminded me of Mogwai, but a little more concise.

Finally, Ni-Hao! were terrific: another three piece band, but this time with two basses and a drummer.. massive amount of fun, even if I was one of only very few people willing to put dignity aside and dance to some fairly jerky rhythms.

Tonight: Deerhoof and Pivot.

oh, and stolen from Warren Ellis and intended solely for the purpose of rocking out: “Pumping Iron” by “That Fucking Tank”.