A Strange Brew @ The EastBrunswick Club, Melbourne

Tue 29th Jan, 2008 in Gig Reviews

I arrived at the East Brunswick Club almost a moment too late, but happily caught the tail end of Sundown and/or last stand. Their sonic flow of electro buzzes and swirling guitar flooded the room, and later speaking with Adam I was informed that this was the first show with the new line up. The East Brunswick only held a handful of people on this peculiar night, yet that didn’t stop the performers making spectacular music.

Next up on the bill was A Friend of Mine and they reminded everyone that loud 90’s grunge was not dead, it was just sleeping. They had an eerie likeness of one of the greatest school bands ever: The Zit Remedy from Degrassi High. But this might be before your time kids; I mean it was the late 80’s after all. On first impressions, however, I wasn’t alone in drawing comparisons to Nirvana or Alice in Chains. Maybe it was also the overexcited smoke machine (haven’t seen one of those in a while) which added to the school of rock authenticity as the guitarist shouted out “Does it look like my amp’s on fire?” However, you couldn’t turn a deaf ear to them; with double unison vocals which droned into a sea of power chords, and a drummer that rocked hard enough to put holes in your ear drums. The laptop beats also added a sophistication to what could be an easily pigeon holed group. A Friend of Mine gave the crowd a grand finale rock explosion, with extra smoke.

Next in line we had Lucien Simon from Tasmania. A man who is no stranger to the hard knocks on the road and has certainly done his time. Lucien is a troubadour hailing from one of the biggest bands of the Tassie 90’s – Dust. Lucien graced the stage; looking a little like he came straight from working on the railroad, with crumpled shirt and blue jeans and blue collar songs in tow. Instantly serving the crowd with his wacky sense of humour as he introduced himself and explained how he had blistered his pinkie. “I’m gonna play with pain,” he joked. “A pain that’s in my heart, a pain that’s in my soul, a pain that’s in my pinkie”. And Lucien did just that – passionate songs of lost love and longing, yet retaining a waving fist of pride. “I bought me a bottle of wine so I could forget the time,” he crooned.

It’s the man’s voice, which becomes wonderfully hypnotic. It’s like Eddie Vedder and Mark Lanegan sharing a road story with Bob Dylan. Lucien is also, definitely, a storyteller. After the second acoustic onslaught, Lucien introduced drummer Stuart Braun (Dust) to the stage, and the two of them rocked out several acoustic driven roots songs, highlighting Stuart Braun’s flawless skills, especially considering the two of them hadn’t actually rehearsed in a while.

Lucien finished his set once again, solo with his acoustic charm and left the crowd wanting more, including me. As we waited for the second last performer I downed another pint of larger and heard Jessie Warren ( aka Carry Nation ) through the chatter. A friend of Edward Guglielmino and also a Brisbanite. However, this is where I have to be honest when it comes to critiquing an artist objectively, and it’s hard to not be subjective. To start with, Jessie looks beautiful; a very attractive brunette and everything about her is sweet (including her voice). It would be far too easy to stereotype Carry Nation as a run of the mill Sarah Blasko or New Buffalo wanna be, however these are the instant comparisons that came to mind. Jessie has that little girl fragility on stage, and her voice often echoed reflections of the band Mum and a sultry Jewel, in her earlier acoustic years. There can often be indiscretions made by people when they see a sweet girl pick up an acoustic guitar and squeak out folksy love songs, but it may be because their approach is often heavily patterned to that genre. Carry Nation may not be quite ready to capture a full audience with every breath she takes, but given time and experience I’m sure she will find her voice.

Finally on the bill we had Edward Guglielmino (Brisbane). Ed walks out dressed in black, wearing his usual classic Buddy Holly style glasses and a red Stratocaster slung over his shoulder, instantly owning the stage. “I am so famous right now I feel like a star,” he teases as he begins to chug away on his guitar and breaks into a falsetto. Yet even slightly off key, like Neil Young and Robert Smith on crack. By the second song Ed is screaming: “If you want to feel my fire, look into my fucking eyes!” Channelling Frank Black from 1987, with not a soul in the room stirring. You have got to love the man’s presence. “Thanks Melbourne,” he jokes and receives the laughs. “Sometimes you write songs that come true,” he muses.

“Well this one is about a girl I used to see, but we broke up. It wasn’t true then but it became true,” he explains, giving a creepy smirk. “Baby wanted more, the mind is so vacant and her body is so raw.” Through many of Ed’s songs lies a dry wit and humour, as if he’s writing the lyrics to amuse himself before all others. Ed plays with his voice, often shifting from low registers to sudden high-pitched notes, like Jeff Martin imitating Jeff Buckley, yet with an anomalous technique. Halfway through his set Ed calls up Lucien and Jessie to the stage to share a single vocal mic on – œDevils’ Eyes’.

It would be a disaster if it was a full house, but, it’s like a little family watching their friends in their lounge room. Lucien dances ridiculously in the background as Jessie sings wavering backing vocals (after one too many) and all three of them clown around like classroom mates. After the fun and games is over, Ed takes the stage solo again “Radio isn’t everything,” he jokes. “My space is the next big thing. Face book is gonna save my career.” You’ve got to admire Ed’s light-hearted cynicism; a casual and earthy sincerity mixed with a shrewd sense of humour. Ed closes the night with – œYou are an Alien’ with a long high falsetto reminiscent of Muse or Tom Yorke, but with perhaps more nostril involved, yet continuing to surprise his audience with a broken deep husk in the verses. Edward Guglielmino is a chameleon and a comedian, and proved to Melbourne that he’s willing to metamorphosis at will, but he won’t say the word – œf—k’ because it’s just too rock – œn’ roll. I know what you mean Ed. Goodnight Melbourne.