Andrew Weatherall, DJ of countless decades, producer of arguably the greatest rock-dance crossover album ever, was for the first time, visiting Australia to play some extended sets of who-knew-what.
There are many articles on this and many other sites about the achievements of this musical statesman, though I must mention a few to adequately describe what sort of regard he is held within the music community. 1989, he remixes Hallelujah by Happy Mondays after getting involved in the acid house scene of late 1980s. 1991, he take the controls for Primal Scream’s undeniable debut Screamadelica, which put himself and Primal Scream on the map. 1993, he begins a stint DJing on London’s influential KISS-FM while also running two clubs and a magazine in London, he also forms the Sabres of Paradise with Jagz Kooner and Gary Burns, who released a series of pioneering, ambient experimental techno singles and EPs on Weatherall’s Sabrettes label. 1996, he forms Two Lone Swordsmen with friend Keith Tenniswood, he also produces a track with Primal Scream for the Trainspotting soundtrack. 1996, He produces seminal compilations for Heavenly Presents and Fabriclive, remixes everyone from Beth Orton to Bjork and My Bloody Valentine to New Order and produces a steady stream of originals under Two Lone Swordsmen, Lino Square and Rude Solo and more recently, his own name.
Which brings us to the reason why so many had filled The Bakery on a gorgeous Western Australian evening to see a music icon who has been ahead of musical trends for almost as long as this reviewer has been breathing. Upon arrival at about 11, it was good to see that Andrew, or Andy to his friends, had started spinning, as it was clearly stated that a four-hour set was on the cards and we had been on the receiving ends of some late start times in recent months. Dressed in a red checked shirt with slicked short hair and bobbing behind a tall DJ booth, Weatherall surprisingly looked younger than his 44 years.
Starting with a dubby, rhythmic tempo, it was really going to be interesting to see what type of set Weatherall would play – as he has dipped his fingers across more musical genres than perhaps any other producer of his fame. From rockabilly (he has just released a sci-fi-low-fi mix of said genre last year) to techno, Monsieur Weatherall knows his stuff and eclectic set was on the cards. The crowd was a mixture of ages and subcultures with everyone from hippies to local radio personalities and was spread throughout the venue with a large component outside in the courtyard area, chatting, drinking and smoking, not paying much attention to the music at all. Inside was slowly starting to awaken but still the dance floor was rather empty half an hour into the set. Perhaps it was people contemplating the moves they were about to bust out, or the BPM wasn’t high enough to make people boogie, but there was a lot more head nodding than actual dancing. Perhaps it was the loss of the glitter ball chandelier that threw people off, though the new flashing wooden picture frames made for a refreshing change and soon enough the beats started rising and one, two, four ten, twenty six, the dance floor came alive. After really kicking into some proper minimal, with its long breakdowns and percussion emphasis, it was hard to stop one’s legs twitching to the beat.
The minimal/techno was flowing and the dance floor was loving it, though even with time passing through his set, the outside area still seemed to hold a good half of guests at the event. This then begs the question, why were there so many people there (and paying $40 to get in) if they weren’t interested in the music? Were they there to enhance their cultural capital? “I was at the only Andrew Weatherall show ever in Perth” (nb: it may not be the only gig ever, but for argument’s sake let’s say it is). Or was it to be part of the scene? Of what scene I am unsure. It seemed peculiar that there was such a healthy crowd but no one seemed to give a shit about the music. But then perhaps it was that the music was a little repetitive and minimal only. Now everyone knows he was a pioneer of the sound but with so many diverse genres that Weatherall is reputed to be endowed with, it seemed a shame he limited the set to one sound. Perhaps he had been booked just to play this sort of set, it just seemed like it limited his abilities that had won him so many fans over the years. I liken it to a decathlete at the Olympics. The decathlete is good at running, javelin, high jump, hurdles and shot-put but is only allowed to compete in the pole vault, which is rather disappointing to all involved.
Two gentlemen from the crowd then got onstage and made their way to the DJ booth presumably to inspect that Weatherall was actually DJing, as no one wanted another Peter Hook fiasco. After closer inspection the lads starting chatting to the DJ but were promptly informed by converging security guards that they were not allowed to converse with him and were about to be removed – but when the guards approached, Weatherall told them to back off. They were perhaps friends of his, but more likely just countrymen by the looks of their Reebok geezer boots and upturned collars, probably just chatting about how disappointing the English cricket team has been doing recently, no biggie.
Back to the music, it was starting to really get deep and minimal with the kick drum heating up and synth distortions like you were at Albert Park watching the Formula 1 Grand Prix instead of at the Bakery watching a DJ, but this quality mixing with great sampling and looping was still missed by a lot of the punters at the gig. It was a shame though that he didn’t have a more diverse set or perhaps had advertised that it was going to be a minimal set as this really detracted from the overall show as I think people went in with preconceptions of genre mashing taking the crowd to all for corners of the dance music globe, but instead we didn’t get to leave the UK.
