Augie March, Gareth Liddiardand Dan Luscombe @ The Hi-Fi(11/7/09)

Tue 21st Jul, 2009 in Gig Reviews

Feeling comfortably-plump I’m sure, The Hi Fi was reclining; it’s belly full of guests who were doing the same. Gareth Liddiard and Dan Luscombe took the stage and the punters insouciantly stayed on their asses. This pair, if you don’t know, form the bow end of demented Aussie-rock vessel The Drones. Precariously perched on the edge of a bar stool, Gareth introduces himself and Dan, murmurs a few more indiscernible words and strums darkly into life. Whether it was position dependant or not is unsure, but Gareth’s vocals were hard to pick. The loose, angst-sodden rhythm section confirmed we’d come to the right place, but recognisable lyrics were few and far between. Dan moved slowly and nonchalantly between acoustic guitar, electric and key board while his compadre looked like it’d only be one strum too wildly or howl too at-the-moon and he’d finally topple off his stool. The crowd slowly warmed to these too undeniably engaging musicians and when the opening chords to Cold And Sober were struck, a few were even seen to shift position on the uncomfortably-hard floor. The rendition was gorgeous. Dark, sad, and moving (metaphorically speaking of course), and was met with an appreciative reception that was starting to heat almost beyond luke-warm. The duo only played a handful of songs, but the other highlight was the powerful, Oh My.
It was a funny old night at the Hi-Fi and as the boys barely said thanks and goodbye, the crowd made a noise that represented feelings, I only wished they’d have worn on their sleeve far earlier.

As the curtains closed the crowd were upstanding and moved towards the previously vacant real estate that introduces feet to floor and chest to stage. The Melbourne waltzers took their time getting ready and the unconvincing air of excitement started to wain. At last the curtains opened and lumbering bassist Edmondo Ammendola walked across the stage-front to his position, saluting the crowd with a carton of plain milk. Great, rock-on Augie March! When the 5 piece finally assembled there were 8. The additional 3-piece brass section immediately lifted the vibe in the room and things had started to look up. After a quick verbal tip-of-the-hat to – œGaz and Dan’, strange opener There’s something at the Bottom Of The Blackpool lurched into life, followed by another oldie but a goodie, Brundisium. The crowd had started to warm and requests had begun to fly.

Justifying his reputation for being – œa little cold’, bipolar front-man Glen Richards informs us that he’ll be playing – œa mix of song based loosely around what has sold well’ and he added – œSo that’s kind of your fault.’ The crowd attempted a laugh but wasn’t quite sure if it was a joke. The clarinet player of the 3-piece stepped forward and the crowd collectively smiled and swayed as Pennywhistle broke the tension. Augie March as an eight-piece sounded wonderful. Rich, warm and whimsical, the hardest man in Australian music to love, was being adored. Dogsday was an unlikely latest-album choice but proved to be a swoon inducer. Keeping their 2-step momentum, this veteran band of musical perfectionists tangoed their way through a swag of back catalogue classics including the tear-jerking There Is No Such Place. With barely enough time to swallow the lump, the obvious happened. Music-snob and chart followers united as the velvety-pluck of the mammoth hit One Crowded Hour, partnered wall-flower with prom-queen and held them in an intimate, eye-locked embrace. Keeping the passion alive and adding some fire to the furnace, OCH’s Moo You Bloody Choir teammate Just Passing Through, surprisingly enough, becomes a banging, soaring, swirling closer.

With the wanky-encore formality out of the way, Glen took us back to the first track off the first Augie March studio album and the pleasantness of The Hole In Your Roof. Then the second album for glorious pitter-patter of The Drowning Dream. If we didn’t know better you’d swear Glen was some kind of musical nerd and had deliberately, chronologically, prepared this final ménage a trios to close with Clockwork. Although Augie March obviously hadn’t tapered for this one, at this stage in their careers they seem to find it hard to not be in form. Who know’s what will come from this brilliantly disagreeable Victorian 5-piece next, but we won’t be seeing them on the road again soon (apart from the Splendour stage of course). – œWe’ve got fucken work to do. We can’t spend all our time traveling to entertain you…’ Ok Glen, thanks. Take from that what you will.