T’was a cold and stormy Sydney city night, in heels through many puddles I had to take flight. For the bright foggy lights of the Hopetoun beckoned, Wolfmother stopped by – if only for a second.
And that very poorly constructed poetry only hints at the whimsical nature of Sparkadia’s sold out gig on Wednesday night at the Hopetoun Hotel. A pub famous for its endless support of local talent, the Hopetoun is a rare little gem atop a very steep hill. It’s small, it’s hot – no matter what time of day or season. But dangnamit – do they put together fantastic live shows; complete with a sublime acoustic sound and drinks that don’t cost the Earth and then some.
First up on stage – the eccentric, highly entertaining bunch of Sydney boys known as Philadelphia Grand Jury. But you can call them the Philly Jays if you’re cool enough. The Philly Jays like Elvis. Well, at least their singer suuure does. It says so on his guitar. They even give us a rockin’, pumpin’ version of the King’s 1961 hit (Marie’s the Name of) His Latest Flame. Looking like a mash-up of a strangely attractive bearded high school Science teacher, rockabilly garage rock disciple and an emo version of Animal from The Muppets – one does not really know what to expect from the Jays when they hit the stage. What we get is a very cohesive set from some talented lads.
Using your standard rock trinity of instruments (bass, guitar and drums), they also add in an incredibly snazzily played keyboard and some random dude named BJ helps out for a track on the harmonica. Too indie to be straight out rockabilly, using far too many heavy riffs and drums to be anywhere near electro – Philadelphia Grand Jury have the potential to be something else all together. Beck and The Nervous Wreckers in a blender on frappe. Standout tracks include the almost Ramones inspired Going to the Casino (which, the singer ‘Berkfinger’ informs us is a “true story” – one that asks what could possibly go wrong with a trip to a huge gaming establishment) and Ready To Roll.
The Philly Jays mix up songs that make you wanna move by taking the bass line for a helluva walk; with tracks that inspire quiet reflection in their rather melancholy beginnings. Kings of the Australian rock scene Wolfmother could be seen checking out Philadelphia Grand Jury’s highly impressive set from the staircase. And the night only got more surreal from thereon in.
After a battle with the bar, witnessing at least 20 punters being turned away at the door and staking out a spot where I could actually see the stage, the wonderful seven-piece choir that are Cuthbert and the Nightwalkers start their fantastical set. Led by acoustic guitarist and singer Richie Cuthbert, the Nightwalkers have an amazingly tight sound for such an extensive group. Like a more jaded Polyphonic Spree, they take us on an extraordinarily entertaining ride, racing joyously through tracks cataloguing the realities of living in cockroach infested inner west abodes, and trying to get intimate on a squeaky bunk bed mattress, whilst others attempt to sleep below you.
Each member manages to own the stage at some point – a feat that is not difficult when you’re convincingly playing a small keyboard through a mouthpiece or bashing on a cow bell. The Nightwalkers sound is just so eccentrically beautiful. The near perfect vocal harmonies would put even smaller groups to shame. One of the keys to their individuality as an act is the gleeful childishness inherent in all of their music. The septet chant, sway and hypnotise the crowd with tracks such as the extremely cute yet operatic Red Frogs (“our favourite colour is blue, and we like reeeeeed frooooogs”), Newtown La La (“I wish I moved to Newtown, with my two friends – la lala la laaaa…la la la la la”)!
They even give a nod to English minimalist electro nerds Hot Chip with the high energy track Telephone. So much is going on during this song – from swift precision keys to a gyrating bass to manic drums – one hardly knows where to look. The band looked quite chuffed with themselves by the set’s conclusion, and why not? They had knocked the socks off everyone’s rain-drenched feet and managed to make a Sydney crowd dance in a pub.
By the time Sparkadia are warming up there is steam rising from every individual in the packed little room. It seems tonight the Sydneysiders are literally the hottest ticket in town. Okay, lame analogies aside, the buzz surrounding this act is intense. Recently they have garnered well-deserved high rotation airplay on alternative radio stations, and, in turn, developed a very devoted fan base. Sparkadia sound like the exquisitely crafted soundtrack to an epic motion picture. The whole set is one gigantic rock lullaby, that casts a gorgeous spell over us lucky few.
Led by vocalist and guitarist AB, Sparkadia are one of those bands that creep into your subconscious with their poptastic melancholy, and the realisation hits you unwittingly know most of their material. Quite early on, Sparkadia launch into the haunting Animals from their debut album Postcards – a swiftly paced track, complete with brisk drums and quiet yet very effective harmonising from the gorgeous keyboardist Tiffany and marvelous bassist Rabone. This track’s lyrics: “the night turns us into animals; I’ve got one thing on my mind” proved to be quite the narrative for an enthusiastic couple to my left.
I was astounded to hear the song Plague is a B-side of their Too Much To Do single. It reminds me of a re-worked Velvet Underground track that would perfectly suit the prelude to a fight scene in a Tarantino movie. If Sparkadia have no need to give material like this its own single, they are destined for spectacular things indeed. Two girls at the front are singing along to every song, even the more obscure ones, and grin appreciatively when AB’s shirt starts to unbutton and slide off his person. If we’re all overheating in the crowd, I can only imagine what it’s like to be under the stage lights.
Undeterred as it continues to pour torrentially, Sparkadia keep on delighting with The Kiss of Death – which is surprisingly not as morbid as it sounds. The ones that don’t sound macabre generally are. It’s seems to be a neat little rule in Sparkadia’s world. That said, Kiss Of Death is about as optimistic as the band get: “It’s only time before you lose, the things that matter most to you….you’ll beat the one who dies alone”. It’s a happy, boppy little song (despite lyrical appearances) and all the too-cool-for-school kiddies are right in on the back and forth upper body dancing.
Ending their set and giving us the encore we’ve all been waiting for, Sparkadia conclude with Too Much To Do – a track the bemoans not being able to get through to that special someone due to not having any time to do so. Too Much To Do includes snappy guitar work and ghost-like harmonies. AB exudes such gut wrenching emotion throughout this song, one feels immediate empathy and wonder at the manner in which all of the above has been slotted into a two-minute track.
A fabulous way to spend hump day – whimsical melodies running through my head whilst making friends in the rain.
