Check out the photos from the gig here!
Two big factors will help a young band make an impact in Australia: success in America and a leg up from Triple J – well Whitley can tick ‘em both off, and loathe as I am to say I like anything mainstream, Whitley’s also actually got me (and most of Australia) by the balls.
Brisbane lass McKisko kicks off the evening with guest star Tom Cooney on melodica. The sit down crowd outnumber the standing up crowd to begin with, and I spot at least one cross-legged trendster who has a crush. McKisko moonlights between a keyboard and the cutest little classical guitar ever, also managing melodica dalliances after Cooney’s departure from the stage, leaving a loop station to pick up the slack. Important for an indie female artist these days is playing a tourbus load of your own instruments, so McKisko’s got it all wrapped up and on repeat. Voice of gold, she sits angelic to the left of the stage right next to the smoke machine which billows out over her, looking eerie and suiting her heartfelt tunes.
Aware of Whitley only through the doe-eyed tassle-haired press photos and owl endowed MySpace pics it takes me the entire set to realise the yokel bassist (yes, apparently overalls and big old cowboy hats are in this season) on stage with Melbourne’s Seagull is the man himself. Sharing musicians seems to be the ethos at tonight’s show as all the bands are doing it. Seagull is post rocky in his song-writing, with lots of dynamics, jagged guitar parts, and crescendos galore, topped off with more than a smidge of tragedy and emotion. He normally plays with his architecture student brother (amongst others), but alas it’s that time of year for a student so Whitley and his drummer jump on stage and take cues from Mr Seagull himself Chris Bolton, who nods at his newly acquired band to signal changes and keep the whole thing together.
Tom Cooney’s set begins with the death of his electric hollow-bodied guitar, so the loan of an electric acoustic gets the show going and perhaps it’s better suited to the music anyway, more traditional. He is joined on stage by the lovely Corinna Scanlon, who looks a little nervous but has a piercingly juicy voice, not unlike Cooney’s. Scanlon needs something to play and sometimes Cooney needs to not play, perhaps a third member and a tambourine are in order – but Cooney’s guitar plucking is consistant and skilled nonetheless. Unfortunately Cooney’s sexy, bare bones lyricism is lost on the crowd awaiting Whitley, and perhaps Seagull would’ve been more suited to this time slot.
Whitley is positively beaming – shaken from his experience on the Gold Coast whilst travelling from Byron to Brisbane – but beaming nonetheless. He has had a costume change since his X-marked scarecrow bass-playing in Seagull and is now donning a retro country and western shirt complete with tassles. He fills us in on quite a lot between songs, freestyle rapping about his Nova radio spot, American tour, Great Northern gig, the Falls Festival, and the road rage incident on the Gold Coast. I spoke to a friend earlier who said Whitley was shy and quiet when she saw him, so perhaps he’s grown up, because he is definitely not shy now – one punter even speculating as to whether he joined a band just to get laid. He shouldn’t have any problem doing that either seeing as the sizeable crowd is predominantly female. The set kicks off with Time Stands Still and a few songs are played with band in tow, but they disperse for Whitley’s rendition of Bjork classic Hyperballad, my highlight of the evening. The band are back on stage for final song Submarine. The drumming is incredible, they’re all talented, the soothing pleasant folk rock being at times introspective and melancholic. The encore of More Than Life is well worth the thirty second wait.
