Since 2006, the AIR Awards have been the perfect setting for the Australian indie music scene to get together and celebrate the year’s best independent music artists. The 2009 Jagermeister AIR Awards at the Forum Theatre was no different, jam packed with scorching performances and bizarre acceptance speeches.
Punters were greeted by Jagermeister girls wearing giant orange belts handing out shots of liquor freely, like nurses giving out medication. Certainly by the end of the night, everyone was – œmedicated’. The night was opened by Tjupurru, a descendent of the Djabera Djabera tribe who uses modern technology to share his traditional music. The combination of his awesome Didjeribone (an electronic didgeridoo that slides like a trombone) and his – œface bass’ (a mouth sensor instrument that creates beats) made Tjupurru’s indigenous flavoured trip-hop innovative and invigorating.
As Tjupurru’s set closed, the screen onstage slid up to reveal the three interesting characters that make up Philadelphia Grand Jury. Slightly hampered with some technical difficulties to begin with, The Philly Jays powered on as always and provided a harsh, furious and all-round entertaining set. They invited everyone back to their hotel room for their own unofficial afterparty before ironically launching into I Don’t Want To Party (Party). And as anyone who has seen The Philly Jays ever play will know, this Sydney trio never ends a set in a conventional fashion. After much thrashing about onstage (during which Berkfinger rather haphazardly yanked a bass off MC Bad Genius), they abruptly ended their set with one jumping into the crowd and the other wandering offstage.
Once all remants of the Philly Jays’ was clear, the evening’s host Julian Morrow of the Chaser greeted the audience. His little introduction was more stand-up comedian than his normal snooty demeanour, and with his delivery style that bordered on yelling some in the crowd wondered if he’d forgotten he had a microphone. He did manage to get a few political jokes in: “And the Minister of the Environment and the Arts, Peter Garrett, was busy screwing up the environment so he couldn’t be here to screw up the music industry.” The almost-compulsory Kanye West joke came up, as did quips about Australia’s most embarrassing man Kyle Sandilands and André Rieu.
The first award of the night was the Best Independent Country Album, and was won by Adam Brand for Hell of A Ride. Brand couldn’t be there to accept it, so Morrow read out his acceptance speech, adding that he was too busy “cracking on to Nicole Kidman in Texas.” The second shout-out of the night went to C.W. Stoneking, who accepted Best Independent Blues and Roots Album for his amazing Jungle Blues.
The next musical interlude was filled up by Bridezilla, comprising of four lovely ladies and one young fine man. Their music could be described as lullaby rock: oddly alluring siren songs that are equal parts delightful and depressing. Bridezilla’s use of the saxophone in the least 1980s way possible should be highly commended, but their elegant arrangements were let down by their gawkiness. They seemed to be slightly confused as to why they were playing at the AIR Awards, and didn’t seem to be that excited about it.
The next AIR Award up for grabs was the Best Independent Jazz Album for “any jazz band that has a drum solo that lasts more than a week,” according to Morrow, and went out to The World According to James from Lingua Franca. Morrow then started doing his little spiel for what he thought was the next category – Best Independent Dance/Electronica Album. But when the nominees were announced, punters were surprised to see names like Mammal and The Amity Affliction on the big screen. Turns out someone got their wires crossed and the Best Independent Hard Rock or Punk Album couldn’t wait their turn. Many were pleased with The Nation Blue’s win for Rising Waters, but even more confused by Tom Lyngcoln’s acceptance speech: “You fuck one cow, everyone calls you a cow fucker.” Being a good host, Morrow noticed lots of puzzled faces in the crowd and assured us that “a transcript of that speech will be available after this for the media.”
Nominee Kirsty Lee Akers performed next, and despite not winning the Best Independent Country Album she was surprisingly and annoyingly chipper. While this reviewer doesn’t mind a spot of country music occasionally, Akers’ lyrics in It Gets To Me may be evidence of why she didn’t win the top spot. The line “I hate that I don’t hate you” is embarrassingly juvenile. The second song she performed was her single Knocked Up, which is about her parents when they were pregnant with her. One punter in the crowd pulled a face of disgust and said, “She’s singing about her parents having sex… country music is fucked up.”
The time came for the actual Best Independent Dance Album, and was swooped up by Art vs Science, the trio behind Parlez Vous Francais. Best Hip Hop/Urban Album went out to A Mind Of My Own by Pez. “I didn’t want to write an acceptance speech because I thought I’d look stupid, but now I realise that not writing a speech makes me look stupid,” Pez philosophised in the spotlight as he accepted his trophy.
The next performer to grace the stage was the blues winner of the night, C.W. Stoneking. Wearing the most charming striped jacket and looking like he belonged on a New Orleans porch during the 1920s, he serenaded the audience with his wobbly voice and jazzy melodies. Stoneking and his Primitive Horn Orchestra had an interesting line-up of instruments that varied between double bass, cornet, tuba, trombone, tenor banjo and resonator guitar, and tunes like Jungle Lullaby and The Love Me Or Die were so lazy and bluesy that it seemed like the music itself was drunk.
After a brief interval, the stage was taken over by a very different act – Dappled Cities. The band was extravagantly decked out. Their outfits may have paper planes attached to giant newspaper Elizabethan collars, or they may have been giant silverfish costumes. Who knows, but it would have been appropriate to start calling them Dappled Cities Fly again because it seemed like they were about to lift off at any moment. Apart from looking like extras from a Mighty Boosh segment, their insatiable beats, space-agey melodies and Bowie-esque vocals brought The Price and The Night is Young at Heart to life.
The next batch of awards went to The Philly Jays for the Best Independent Single or EP, and drummer Calvin Welch gave an enthusiastic speech about supporting the indie music scene. The Drones ended up being the big winners of the night, scoring both top prizes: Best Independent Album of the Year and Independent Artist of the Year. Drummer Michael Noga seemed perplexed, simply thanking the crowd then adding, “That’s bizarre.”
Indietronica siren Bertie Blackman then took over the stage with a beguiling tasselled dress and her sexy voice that varied between Bjork’s famous exasperated vocals and a deep rock gruff. Shortly after her breathtaking performance that included Heart, she was quickly called back onstage to receive the honour of being the Breakthrough Artist of the Year. The excited singer shared her post-AIR plans with the crowd: “I’ve never won a music award or a trophy. So I finally have an excuse to make a trophy cabinet with mirrors so it looks like I’ve won a million awards even though I’ve just won this one.”
The headliners for the evening Midnight Juggernauts brought the massive night to a close, but were sadly disappointing. While their performance wasn’t bad, their music was stale. Their brand of electro pop rock has been done to death, and after Bertie Blackman’s scorching performance Midnight Juggernauts seemed lacklustre. Most of the crowd had emptied the Forum Theatre to make their way to the afterparty and those who stayed to dance were the really drunk ones sashaying scarily at the front, downing as many free Jagermeister shots as possible until next year’s AIR Awards.
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