Megan Washington @ The Studio,Sydney Opera House (10/07/09)

Wed 15th Jul, 2009 in Gig Reviews

What do torch ballads, ramshackle indie, country duets and straight-ahead commercial guitar rock have in common? Almost nothing. But try telling that to Megan Washington, who had a go at all of these genres, and a few more besides, in tonight’s one-off Opera house show. With a background ranging from an appearance in Woody Allen’s band to cabaret festivals, busking and formal jazz training, her approach is nothing if not diverse.

Things begin promisingly enough, with the second tune being an excellent cover of one of the greatest songs of the past decade, The Magnetic Fields’ The Book of Love. With guest vocalists including Elana Stone and George Byrne, taking turns on vocals, it’s a fitting tribute to a song which manages to be both slyly funny and genuinely touching. This formed part of what Washington explains is the first – œact’ of the show, which is all covers and songs from her collaborators. The second part has more of a rock band feel and the final act is a bit of everything and bears the awkward title – œmisc’.

Washington’s voice is pretty striking; it’s an appealing and versatile instrument, capable of everything from husky vulnerability to commanding vocal jazz. But this ability to shift musical moods seems to have led to a kind of restlessness and genre changes and special guests come and go every couple of songs, often to little effect.

Being eclectic is all well and good, but when there’s no cohesion at all and the quality is this up and down, it just becomes frustrating. I can’t think of a single artist who manages to successfully jump between completely separate genres like this. Of course a lot of great records are diverse – think of the variety of London Calling for instance, but every song is identifiably The Clash. At the moment there’s not a strong enough sense of identity in any of Washington’s various musical guises for her to pull off such genre-hopping.

Still, there are many musical paths Washington can choose. Highlights along the way include Teenage Fury, a ragged indie confessional which she apparently wrote the night before. Such spontaneous songwriting ability, however, is wasted in detours such as a dull collaboration with jazz bore Paul Grabovsky, whose – œlook how many notes I can play’ approach bogs down Plaster Cast and hardly improves the Chet Baker-lite Don’t Explain. A much better moment is Underground which sees her dreaming of “drinking gin with Billie Holiday”. But the snakes and ladders continues with a less successful foray into sultry rock on Sunday Best.

With her Lisa Loeb glasses and general air of discomfort, Washington is perhaps not the most natural of frontwomen. But you want her to succeed and she has at least one great anecdote, about accidentally patting a dwarf, no less. Your patience wears thin, however, in some of the more band-oriented material. While Rich Girl recalls The Long Blondes, much of the rock stuff here is so nondescript and blandly played it is more reminiscent of fictional TV high school groups than any actual bands I can think of. Memo to Ms Washington: ditch The Zit Remedy. They’re doing nothing for you.

There’s an encore of a single song, and it’s an excellent choice – Gillian Welch’s Dear Someone, a plaintive piece of old Americana. Performed with her former housemate Elana Stone (in a spectacularly ill-fitting outfit), it ensures a hit and miss performance ends on a high note. Ultimately, Washington’s scattershot approach made this show a generally a bit of a mess. But hey, at least it was a very promising mess.