St Jerome's Laneway Festival @Fowler's Courtyard, Adelaide(23/02/08)

Tue 26th Feb, 2008 in Gig Reviews

Check out the pics from St Jerome’s in Adelaide HERE

Check out the pics from the Melbourne leg of the Festival HERE

The Laneway Festival’s growth from an endearing boutique Melbourne indie happening into what is now close to a genuine national event may have had its detractors back east. But there were few present in the North Tce university/music venue locale of Adelaide’s first edition that went home hoping it wouldn’t be around again next year. Though there were some venue limitations and a scheduling lag that made it difficult to slip between the two stages, it was in the main a triumphant afternoon and evening for the festival and its array of acts that filled virtually all points of the alternative compass.

Having sold out on the Tuesday before the festival, there was a healthy crowd in early for the 11am start, if a few sore heads from the previous night’s Adelaide Fringe opening street parade and party. No Through Road have built themselves a decent following in Adelaide and a smattering of fans elsewhere with a combination of impassioned and thoughtful rock, and again they were able to produce a decently big sound on the outdoor “Uni Stage” in early afternoon.

Next was the day’s first real draw, Texan songsmiths Okkervil River. Beginning by airing the “jetlag defence”, front man Will Sheff proceeded to contradict his own pessimism with an outstanding set, judged to be worth the price of admission alone by some in the crowd. Offering the disarming variety one should expect from a seven piece, their excursions into country and pop were never dull, underlining a well-deserved critical darling status.

From there the crowd were taken north of the United States/Canada border by Montreal quintet Stars, and their dramatic, bawdy strains of power pop and electro presented all the likely hallmarks of a group that was originally formed in the brash surrounds of New York City then moved to one of the most European centres to be found on the other side of the Atlantic. Co-lead singers Torquil Campbell and Amy Millan were equally effective, while behind them was a band of both power and subtlety, crunch and swing. Their best moment probably arrived with Reunion, a glistening track Campbell prefaced with a nod (“I fucking love them!”) to the Go-Betweens, another band with a penchant for fusing the melodramatic with the literate.

More drama was to come with some more Canucks. Toronto’s Broken Social Scene possess a powerful, wrenching dynamic that convinces most of the time, if occasionally stumbling over the familiar “sound over songs” dilemma confronted by much of the indie world. Their first two tunes in particular seemed to be as much tuning jams as songs, but from that point things picked up noticeably. Late into their 45 minutes the group were joined onstage by erstwhile touring compatriot Feist, and her intervention brought a welcome change to what was otherwise an impressive if occasionally distant multi-guitar attack.

After three overseas bands on the bounce it seemed a welcome relief to some that Triple J album of the year winners the Panics were scheduled for early evening, rather than the later slot they might easily have commanded if the schedule had been geared at popular and critical following rather than a smooth generic progression. As it was they turned out to be an ideal fit for the time when many present would have favoured a barbeque, their consummate songcraft and combination of guitars, piano and Jae Laffer’s breathy vocals melding beautifully with early dusk. Remaining reticent to play anything from their first album, the Perth group who now reside in Melbourne produced a stream of confident renderings of the songs from Cruel Guards. Among a sprinkling of older numbers Cash and Best Mistake stood out wonderfully, but it was a pity Laffer and co did not see fit to use the bevy of brass players available backstage to play the horn hook from conciliatory anthem Don’t Fight It.

By this time the front of stage crush had taken hold, meaning there was little respite for those wanting to retain position on the harsh paved surface of the Fowler’s courtyard. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah did their best to alleviate the lactic acid build-up with a hefty slice of rock pop that, unlike Stars and Okkervil River, has been heard a few times previously on these shores. There is a touch of David Spade about lead singer Alec Ounsworth, but as a whole the group is far less annoying. On songs like Yankee Go Home and Is This Love Ounsworth begins to sound like a young David Byrne, and that is not a bad thing.

A lengthy delay followed as the stage was readied for still another Canadian, Feist. Her arrival onstage provided a welcome change in mood and pace, venturing deep into singer/songwriter territory with just a hint of Irish influence. Most were waiting of course for 1, 2, 3, 4… the pleasing ditty first composed by New Buffalo. Sweet and catchy if a little throwaway, it is the most memorable tune in Feist’s repertoire, and not entirely representative of an artist who often prefers to meander.

By this time the uni stage was about 90 minutes behind the clock, meaning one man music show Gotye clashed with the Vasco Era inside. What was by all accounts a storming Vasco set took place while the majority of the crowd were outside, lapping up the many genre bending experiments by the man less commonly known as Wally de Backer. The owner of an easy stage presence and decent wit, there is not a lot he does that hasn’t been around before, borrowing from influences as wide as the Avalanches, DJ Shadow and even sounding like a 21st century George Harrison on psychedelic trip The Only Way. However the sheer ingenuity of doing it all at once, occasionally while wearing a fake moustache, makes him a compelling live performer, despite the fact that apart from his vocals, whip-crack drumming and confident piano work, most of the work is done by his laptop. Closing with the feel good sing along of Learnalilgivinanlovin, de Backer left a warm glow of appreciation behind him.

Over the day the festival had offered up just about as many variations on the indie/rock/pop formula as are possible, but the decision to close with dance fiends the Presets served not only as a suitable cap on proceedings but also as an exhortation for the crowd to move on from Fowler’s to the club dancefloors to be found further into the city that night. After also headlining Friday’s Fringe party, the Presets enjoyed themselves as they brought out the raver in most, assaulting the senses with their succession of floor fillers. Possibly lacking a little in the way of variety, they do possess one off-centre gem in the form of My People, and provided enough beats to ensure most everyone forgot about their aching feet and kept right on dancing.