It’s pretty hard to move this week without running into Jimmy Barnes and his rock n’ roll cliché. Barnes forms band, band become famous, Barnes takes a gargantuan amount of drugs, wallows in pit of despair, finds redemption at a $10,000 a day clinic somewhere in the Arizona desert (extended version available in all good book stores).
No doubt he’s experienced some tough times, but when translated into song these experiences can get mired in bland country rock, with the ex-Scot singing about mistakes and forgiveness like he forgot to buy a carton of milk. If he really wanted learn how to convey the heartache of despair, Barnes could do worse than catch compatriot Malcolm Middleton on his current Australian tour.
It’s a respectable sized crowd at Sydney’s Hopetoun Hotel that greets Middleton, here in time for the release of his not-quite-an-album-not quite-an-EP Sleight of Heart. With only a guitar for company; Middleton opens with Stay Close, Sit Tight from his 2007 release A Brighter Beat. This is an album he describes as being less “bare and melancholy” than previous releases. Given Stay Close deals with the fight against the crushing weight of depression, it’s fair to say that Middleton’s previous efforts have come from a very dark place indeed.
It’s not say that tonight is a wholly glum affair. For a start Middleton has a fairly decent line in wry, dry banter and for all the heavy-duty themes he’s quite happy to poke fun at the generous measure of misery in his back catalogue. Secondly, his particular brand of alternative folk actually sits closer to the cheery end of the spectrum. This isn’t the barren lo-fi of former band Arab Strap. Week Off and Fuck It I Love You are strummed with sweet natured gentle chords, We’re All Gonna Die has a bouncy sing-along feel to it (honest) and Brighter Beat is, well, exactly that.
In essence though, the shadow of Middleton’s black dog is a persistent presence. Whilst his songs have a pleasing sheen, underneath is the rotten core of self-loathing. Middleton’s tales don’t relate to disconnected faceless characters, these are his open wounds and he’s more than happy to stand on stage and let us have a good look. Cold Winter is particularly confronting with the line, “My life is dead and I can’t see a future, I never could and I still can’t / Do you still think I’d make a terrible father? / I guess his blood still runs in me.” When he finishes he unburdens the audience by apologising (with half a grin) for “that being particularly depressing”. You don’t say.
Malcolm Middleton may be depressive but spending time with him isn’t depressing. Although he sings about the human experience as a constant tug-of-war between life and death, it’s never over-wrought or indulgent self-pity. He’s genuinely moving and often bleakly funny. Here’s hoping a certain Australian ‘icon’ takes time out of his current promotional duties to see Middleton and pick up some tips.
