St Jerome's Laneway Festival @Alexandria Street, Brisbane(31/01/2009)

Sun 1st Feb, 2009 in Gig Reviews

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A new year finds the Brisbane leg of the St Jerome’s Laneway Festival adopt a new venue; Winn Street and The Zoo have been replaced by Alexandria Street within the RNA Showgrounds precinct, though there are many familiar Zoo faces behind the three bars. Where last year’s event felt over-crowded, there’s now an abundance of space split between three stages: the central warehouse of the Red Bull Academy, the open space of the Car Park, and the literal laneway of the Alexandria Street stage.

It’s here where we find local favourites John Steel Singers addressing the slowly massing crowd: “Good morning, tumbleweeds. Thank you for rolling by!” Their brass-augmented pop sounds have been turning ears across the country, thanks to some well-deserved airplay and tour slots. The throbbing bass groove of The Staged Intervention Of Poor Richard segues into Strawberry Wine’s two-minute pop genius, after which frontman Tim Morrissey suggests that if he weren’t in the band, he’d still be at home pre-drinking. The crowd are divided between the majority seeking shade and a couple of dozen slow-baking in the sun. The band suit summertime better than most; in a perfect world, their buoyant brand of pop would open every festival. Several new tracks are mixed between recent single Rainbow Kraut and set closer Evolution, in which the band enlist their friends in Yves Klein Blue to assist with percussion duties;a fine way to spend a sunny Saturday morning in preparation for the ten-hour aural onslaught.

West Australians Tame Impala open the Car Park stage with sharp set of their heavily-70’s-influenced psychadelia, playing to a steadily growing and appreciative crowd. Kevin Parker’s guitar work is drenched in fuzz, leaving bassist Dominic Simper to carry some of the melodic weight, a feat which he pulls off with ease. Unfortunately the sunny and hot open air atmosphere doesn’t do Impala any favours, nor does the festival-quality sound system, but Impala carry their set with consummate professionalism – festival opening bands don’t get any better than this, except perhaps JSS fifty metres away.

Sydney beatmakers Hermitude are the first act to fill the Red Bull Academy warehouse with light and sound: it’s a skill in which the Blue Mountains duo are well versed, as they’ve been making music and producing fellow Elefant Traks artists since 2002. The pair sport aviators and mix live keys and MPC with an array of sampled beats that struggle to capture the attention of the audience, who’re treating the central warehouse as a meeting point, watering hole and thoroughfare between stages. They drop the shuddering beat of Cartridge Kings from recent third album Threads mid-set, before debuting recent JJJ hit Your Call, which they omitted from their November show at the Step Inn. It’s a great track, but Urthboy and Elana Stone’s sampled vocals just feel hollow. The nearby dunk-for-charity stall gains our attention: punters are presented with the chance to dunk Laneway artists and local scene icons, which results in much taunting, soaking and laughing.

Frontman Sean Rawls and a few of his colleagues might be self-admittedly tired and hungover from last night’s gig and subsequent party, but San Francisco – œhammjamm’ collective Still Flyin’ nevertheless get the good vibes going with their brass-augmented, ska- and reggae-infused repertoire. The fun-filled set mainly draws from debut album Never Gonna Touch The Ground; singles Good Thing It’s A Ghost Town Around Here and The Hotchord Is Struck are effervescent funk-pop slices, as sunny as today’s weather. Additional kudos goes to one particular shorts-clad band member who doesn’t seem to have an – œOff’ button – Bez of Happy Mondays, you’ve got a spiritual heir.

Pivot have had an enormous twelve months: the release of their second album, O Soundtrack My Heart on Warp Records to critical acclaim; a world tour; and support slots as varied as Sigur Ros and the forthcoming Gary Numan tour in March. The Sydney/Perth/London trio amass a sizable crowd at the Car Park stage as they begin poking at electronic devices, plucking at strings and pounding at drums. Skinsman Laurence Pike is in fine form: his deft touches are integral to the band’s unique electronic instrumental soundscapes. His sunglass-sporting brother Richard jabs at his guitar, rarely playing chords and instead finding dissonant notes in an entirely unconventional fashion. They opt to open with Nothing Hurts Machine, wherein a jagged rhythm gives way to a powerful four-chord flourish. The palm-muted motif and yawning vocals of Sing You Sinners finds the Pikes at their quietest moment, while In The Blood and Didn’t I Furious are propulsive, confronting and brilliantly delivered. Barefooted laptop-prodder and synth-wrangler Dave Miller is in a state of constant motion, as he contorts and pulsates in time with their hypnotic groove. Sweet Memory finds Richard duelling the pounding bass sample with spidery guitar phrases while Miller contributes cascading synth lines, before the song descends into . The trio surprise with a new song that features Richard on vocals, before they end a technically brilliant, aurally unique and wholly impressive set with their now-signature tune, O Soundtrack My Heart.

Sweating profusely, Jazzmaster-wielding Pavement / Preston School Of Industry luminary Spiral Stairs ( Scott Kannberg prior to the name change) proves that the – œ90s indie spirit still lives, opening with Brighten The Corners classic Date With Ikea and continuing with confident, crunchy solo numbers. Preston favourite Falling Away gets an enthusiastic response from the Car Park stage crowd and by the time Spiral bids us adieu with another little pearl from the Pavement jewellery box – the Still Flyin’ members-featuring Two Steps – we are firmly reassured that the man’s still got it.

Three Canadians known as Born Ruffians find a large crowd gathered at the Alexandria Street stage to witness their first Australian performance. Rake-thin guitarist Luke LaLonde is flanked by bassist Mitch Derosier and drummer Steven Hamelin, who share vocal duties throughout their forty passionate minutes. They open with the title track from their 2007 release Red, Yellow & Blue. Barnacle Goose exemplifies their intelligent, well-crafted indie rock, before their most-known track Hummingbird finds the crowd lending their voices to the chorus. The trio are one of the day’s highlights; their sound starkly contrasts against the abrasive noise-rock of Californian two-piece No Age, who’re the next act on stage. Randy Randall and Dean Allen Spunt take the guitar-and-drums dynamic as far as they can, but it’s unsurprising that they gradually lose the attention of the audience as the set approaches its conclusion.

Port O’Brien’s debut album All We Could Do Was Sing was a quirky folk opus entirely about Van Pierszalowski not wanting to be a fisherman any more, and hopefully that goal has been achieved, because their first ever show in the Southern hemisphere is an absolute cracker. The lively guitar work from the group gives some of the softer songs a punch, but the real star is Pierszalowski. His vocals, while occasionally a little too nasal, are delivered with an emotional intensity that borders on mesmerising. For their last song, they invite some of the crowd up on to the stage (which gets out of hand, of course) to holler the chorus for I Woke Up Today, their poppiest and best song. Hopefully we’ll see them return to Brisbane very soon.

It’s tough to pull off a convincing math-rock show after Pivot’s stellar performance, however Melbourne’s Mountains In The Sky achieve the impossible by unfolding an absolutely mesmerising set. Aided by trippy visuals, the unassuming trio immerse us in sheer Moog heaven: the melody-filled synth passages, sheets of controlled guitar feedback and gravity-defying drum rolls creating a vision of Tangerine Dream jamming with My Bloody Valentine. Gorgeous electronic melancholy? Oscillating, but never obnoxious bleep waves? A genuine sense of happening? Check, check, check. This isn’t the battle of Mac laptops – Austrian Dorian Concept ’s subsequent display, while full of quality psychedelic hip-hop/drum & bass, doesn’t stand a chance – this is a sublime Electron Suite.

The Temper Trap have been off recording their long awaited debut album, but it seems as though that has tightened their live show as well. While it used to take them a while to get warmed up, there’s no evidence of that in today’s set, as the three-pronged guitar attack cuts ruthlessly through the afternoon heat. Frontman Dougy has an amazing voice, which gets a good workout, although it misses the mark a little on big single Sweet Disposition; although, maybe standards are set a little high by the sublime recorded version. The Trap’s set of dark-yet-accessible art-school rock hits the mark on the excited crowd, and even a risky cover of Springsteen’s Dancing In The Dark is well received. The first half of the bands on the Car Park stage are setting the bar extremely high.

Over at the Red Bull stage, Londoner Kieran Hebden – aka Four Tet – is busy shaking off his old – œfolktronica’ tag by bombarding the room with heavy sub-bass and skitterish beats that are more Prodigy than.. well, Four Tet. The trademark evocative, tinkling music-box melodies are still there, however, and tracks from 2003’s magnum opus Rounds sounds as remarkably fresh and innovative as they did 6 years ago. Still, what once seemed to be chiefly “listening” electronic music has made a smooth transition to top-notch dancefloor fodder: a sizable crowd moves on its many feet. One memorable acoustic guitar sample brings to mind undeservedly forgotten Scottish folk-hoppers The Beta Band circa their landmark Three EPs release; consistent throughout, the once-wunderkind demonstrates comprehensive artistic growth.

Australia-shy for a number of years, indie godheads Stereolab end the wait by bringing their brand of intelligent, organ-led pop to Laneway. Deadpan as ever, chanteuse Laetitia Sadier is all Gallic charm as she coos her French/English lyrics, while principal leader Tim Gane is all quiet authority, strumming his Fender Mustang to the band’s characteristic – œ60s/Krautrock rhythms. Recent Motown-tinged Chemical Chords album gets a prominent airing along with the iridescent sequence of classic – œ90s material (culminating with barnstorming French Disco) and an exhilarating – œone chord symphony’ interlude/outro; ending with swooning Emperor Tomato Ketchup gem Cybele’s Reverie, the 45-minute set feels too short for the sort of elation it generates.

The Alexandria St area is well and truly packed for Cut Off Your Hands, as the assembled audience are ready to go bonkers to the Kiwi quartet’s bouncy indie-pop. The boys duly serve it up, causing a hand-clapping session with It Doesn’t Matter; youthful excitement personified, hyperactive lead singer Nick Johnston launches his mic into the air, soon followed by the tambourine and an improvised stagemob (much to the security’s chagrin). Signature tune Oh Girl is as dapper as its lyrics are simplistic, and predictably gets the biggest response despite the harmonies sounding just a little out of tune. Additionally – and somewhat dishearteningly – it becomes clear that the aforementioned number is still easily COYH’s best song, and while this fresh-faced quartet are impressively tight, they’ve got plenty of room for improvement in the songwriting department no matter the praise heaped on them.

For a band who are purported to hate festivals, The Drones have found themselves playing three within a month. Following performances at Falls and Big Day Out, the Melbourne four-piece attract a hefty crowd of converts and the curious. Their set is the same as the Big Day Out a fortnight ago, minus Havilah cut Luck In Odd Numbers; despite the 45 minutes they’re afforded, it’s likely cut from the set because the band are having a shocker. Gareth Liddiard celebrates his birthday by throwing a tantrum mid- Shark Fin Blues because there’s water all over the stage and his pedals aren’t working. His frustration works in favour of the performance, as Liddiard – parted from his guitar in a rare moment – grips the microphone with both hands and howls the final few stanzas with passion and a hint of rage. Mike Noga’s snare busts moments later, causing Liddiard to remark that Brisbane stages always treat them well – a reference to an October 2007 Zoo show wherein they encountered similar technical difficulties.

Havilah track Nail It Down is now the standard Drones set opener, and it’s followed by their most radio-friendly creation yet, Oh My. “People are a waste of food, and don’t bother learning Chinese” sneers Liddiard, but his misanthropic remarks pass over the crowd who’re anticipating the next sing-along chorus. It’s a clever songwriting tactic: espouse your dislike for mankind’s nature, but reel ‘em back in with a great hook. Once Noga’s snare is replaced, it’s immediately hammered during the ever-impressive Minotaur, but Noga and Liddiard are clearly perturbed. Guitarist Dan Luscombe tries to help them laugh it off, but by this point, they’re just going through the motions. Their Kev Carmody cover River Of Tears now appears to be a standard set inclusion: its ferocity is a highlight, alongside Luscombe’s piss-taking crowd-hyping while Liddiard watches a stagehand mop his pedalboard. Gala Mill single I Don’t Ever Want To Change rounds off the set: in its closing moments, Luscombe frisbees the busted snare at Noga, who catches it with his head. Luscombe tackles the drummer as bassist Fiona Kitschin and Liddiard leave the stage without fanfare, perhaps hinting at a temporary absence of leave from the festival circuit.

Admitting they have never played a Brisbane festival date, Melbourne’s childlike joy-exponents Architecture In Helsinki preach both to the converted and casual punters, sounding bigger and better than ever. Perhaps this admission shouldn’t come as a big surprise considering the band have been honing their saucer-eyed stage show since their frequently shambolic early gigs, yet their sugar-OD pop remains an acquired taste and those who love it are treated to nearly every Triple J-rotated AIH moment, and then some.

The Hold Steady put in their bid for most excited frontman of the day, with Craig Finn dancing around the stage, grinning giddily, while delivering his quasi-spoken-word vocals. Their set concentrates on material from their two most recent albums, Boys And Girls In America and Stay Positive. The crowd are really getting into it, and form the the first (and only) near-moshpit of the day to the beats of drummer Bobby Drake. Unfortunately, the sound problems which plagued The Drones are back, as Galen Polivka ’s bass drops out during Your Little Hoodrat Friend. The band stand around for ten minutes playing little dittys while they wait for it to be fixed, but it drags on and on, and they finish the song and start the next sans-bass. Unfortunately, even once it returns, they never get their momentum back, but their energetic rock set has still been great to watch, except for the ten minutes where nothing happened.

Assisted by an electronic percussionist/co-vocalist, Barcelona’s sampladelia wizard El Guincho gets everyone at the Red Bull Academy stage grooving to his mix of percolating samba/bossa nova beats and Spanish carnival chants. Pitchfork-approved latest album Allegranza dominates the setlist and the street party vibe doesn’t stop for a second; make no mistake – this is tropicalia for the 21st century. Smiles, cheers and mucho hip-shaking abound as the affable Spaniard brings a slice of Mediterranean high life to the Brisbane evening, commanding the merry proceedings with gusto.

It takes ages for Augie March to get set up, so by the time they arrive for their Car Park-stage-closing set, most of the crowd has been lost to Girl Talk. And it’s not one of their better sets either, with sound problems persisting. The drums seem muted, the guitar balance is off, and the whole thing is really quiet after the punchy rock of The Hold Steady. Frontman Glenn Richards isn’t happy either – although, when is he? – as he’s missing his usual sound setup, and can’t hear anything. Their set of mostly new material (including Pennywhistle and The Glenorchy Bunyip ) feels a little off-kilter, especially when they are capable of great melodic heights, and the final injustice comes when they’re told they only have five minutes left, due to earlier delays. “Which song do you want to hear, Crowded Hour or Train?” Richards asks the crowd. Of course, everyone calls for Hour, but he just laughs and says “Fuck it, we’ll play Train. Fuck that other song!” and they rip through This Train Will Be Taking No Passengers.

It would be fair to say a large number of this year’s Laneway attendees have primarily come here to see Girl Talk, and the much-hyped mashup mini-phenomenon/generation-iPod-on-two-legs doesn’t hesitate to kick off his very own version of a block party at Alexandria Street. Jumping up on the mixing desk and gradually removing layers of clothing, the erstwhile Greg Gillis makes the crowd go apeshit by firing off snippets from songs forever burned into the collective memory: The Ramones “hey, ho, let’s go” chant, the opening lick of Sweet Child Of Mine, Nothing Compares 2 U … etc, etc. Yes, it’s all fun and good times, and the stage-hogging throng prances about with utter abandon, yet for all of GT’s seemingly-infinite pop music knowledge and ability, his unabashed over-reliance on credible artistic material eventually comes across as a mere gimmick and makes Portugal’s global beats masters Buruka Som Sistema next door sound infinitely more original and – even more so – vital.

After a series of false starts, technical difficulties and two polar-opposite closing acts, Laneway 2009 ends with more of a whimper than a roar. The new venue proves adequate in every respect; by showcasing an collection of national and international talent, the organisers succeed in expanding the Brisbane leg in eclectic sounds, if not in ticket sales. It’s hard to tell whether it was the stage, the bands, or just some bad equipment timing, but the big three bands that finished the Car Park stage today failed to reach the lofty heights set by earlier acts. Here’s hoping that the Laneway crazy train will stay on the tracks in other cities.

By Andrew McMillen aka niteshok, Denis Semchenko aka denistheman81 and Liam McGinniss aka gumbuoy