Tex Perkins just hasn’t been himself lately. Between belting out dodgy 80s tunes in white with his group The Ladyboyz, or in head-to-toe black as Johnny Cash, the man seems to have been exploring his bi-polar side. So it’s a relief to get the elegantly wasted, shambolic musician with a past and a few tales to tell back. Tonight we were in for a treat: Tex’s ‘Songs from My Black Cattle Dog Tour’ is a retrospective of sorts, showcasing the best of Tex’s solo and duo work. And what better venue than the Prince of Wales to stage this return to arms? With a ream of rock history practically lacquered to the walls, and an intimate, authentic vibe, the punters packed out the place with a clear sense of anticipation. It was the perfect scene to knock back a few and enjoy the Friday night joy.

First up was local boy Jordie Lane. If ever the term ‘old soul’ were to apply to anyone, we’ve got a live one here. Close your eyes and listen to the words – which you can actually hear, a rare thing in any venue – and you’d swear they were coming from someone twenty years older. His Vietnam tune War Rages On exemplifies this. The delicate picking style and distinctive lilt of Australiana frames this bright young talent as our new singer-songwriter du jour. He seems at ease with the crowd, and reveals himself as an old hand on the tough touring circuits, where he was unfortunately asked to play Robbie Williams for clearly unappreciative crowds.

There’s also plenty of versatility here, and the set is split nicely in two: the folky first half and dirtier, bluesy second half, like the two sides of a coin. Lane possesses the ability to ride the acoustic wave from mournful and dark balladeer to pure open-road expansiveness, and joking Aussie wit. There’s a seam of Americana in here too, as is the case with many songwriters of a bluesy lean. It doesn’t undermine what he’s trying to do, though – just adds a little colour to proceedings. The band finish on a fun-time blues number, pumping us up for what’s to come next.

At this point the room was getting louder and louder, as the level of anticipation rose. It became increasingly clear what the demographic was – I may have been the only Gen Y participant for a long stretch. The screen hitched up behind the stage became something of a novelty on the night, and provided cute inter-band entertainment. (Of course, the screen went on to become less cute when it started displaying porn! That Tex is a dirty bastard.)

Tex and the boys enter the stage to rapturous applause, every inch the shambolic songwriter, accompanied by his band of merry men: accomplished musicians and friends he’s gathered in 28 years in the biz. The man himself is bedecked in basic black, with buttons askew and bed-head hair. She Speaks a Different Language, reveals a man in his element. The tune is all simplicity in the best possible way, a tune paced slow, languid strings and mellow drumsbeats merging in the warm room. The effect is almost magical.

True to its aim, the set cycles through the many faces of Tex: the ruffian, the poet, the bittersweet and melancholic storyteller, and we love him for it. A few Cruel Sea tracks even made their way in, including I Know, You Know and It Won’t Last, a clear sparkler in the truckload of diamonds that made up the set. These tracks ended up adding an important counterweight to the downbeat, melancholic songs that dominated the set. We saw a track from Tex’s collaboration with Tim Rodgers, Half of Nothing, and a clutch of the most popular Tex tunes, including the singalong Paycheques.

A show of the signature Tex wit was also out for all to see, as he saluted us with wine, ribbed the crowd, and threw his two cents in on Hey Hey It’s Saturday. He handled the clearly adoring crowd with the practiced ease of a career entertainer. Of course, there was the expected encore, which included the gorgeous Whenever It Snows, from his collaboration with Don and Charlie, which threw a ray of pale light into the room. The snow on the background screen added a charming element to this bittersweet tale of lost love. Of course, he then tells us all we’re too desperate and that it ‘sickens him,’ but we get it. He’s above all an entertainer, and a mongrel – and we love him for it.

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