Steve Gene Wold, better known as Seasick Steve, is still in awe of his own fame. Having spent a nomadic life on the streets and in and out of prison, his talents have finally been recognised. In Australia for the Falls and Sunset Sounds Festivals, he mumbled and fumbled his way through a brilliant set. Although he had technical difficulties, drank regularly and often lost track of what he was saying; Wold warmed the hearts of those at the Athenaeum and confirmed his position as one of the blues genre’s real living treasures.

New South Welshmen The Snowdroppers were perhaps a little more rock and a whole lot more filthy than the largely middle-aged Athenaeum audience were expecting. Decked out in tweed suits and waistcoats, bowler hats and suspenders; The Snowdroppers ploughed through a swag of revivalist blues-rock numbers from their debut LP, Too Late To Pray. Wide-eyed lead singer Johnny Wishbone jittered across the stage like a 1920s incarnation of The Hives Howlin’ Pelle Almqvist; singing of cocaine and rim-jobs on downright dirty numbers such as Good Drugs, Bad Women. The slow-burn menace of Run You Down leaned on a more Nick Cave-style of violent love-song storytelling, while guitarist Pauly K thoroughly impressed on a couple of mid-song solos. The whole act may have been slightly too reverential, but The Snowdroppers are a tight-enough outfit to make it if not convincing then at least, bloody entertaining.

Seasick Steve wandered across the stage, bowing to the rapturous applause his presence provoked and generally taking his time; soaking up the adulation his new life has brought him. Eventually taking his place on a cushioned chair, he began with Man From Another Time, played on a weathered electric-acoustic guitar. After taking a swig from a bottle of Jack Daniels, Wold welcomed out his equally hirsute son and drummer for the evening, Paul Wold. His addition sparked a ferocious blues jam on Thunderbird, resulting in Wold Snr stripping down to his singlet at the song’s conclusion.

One of many guitar changes for the evening saw Wold pick up a Cigar Box Guitar for Happy (To Have A Job). The twinkle in his eye as he introduced the song showed just how genuine its sentiment was. Wold Jnr left the stage to grab a bottle of red but rejoined his father mid-song to really kick My Donny into gear; his father breathless after shaking the last few distorted notes out of his three-string guitar.

“We need to get some slower fucking songs” remarked Seasick Steve, taking another well-earned drink before telling of his time spent in “a government institution, with 60-foot walls and a basketball court”. Those years have clearly influenced much of his work and was the driving force behind That’s All, played on a more regulation guitar. Ironically, it broke down mid-set (“bullshit’s starting to die on me!”) and took some time to be haphazardly fixed while son Paul kept a steady beat.

A young woman in the front row was brought to the stage and seated next to Seasick Steve for him to serenade her with Walkin Man, one of the evening’s real highlights. At its conclusion, the two toasted, beer against bottle of whisky, before she returned to her seat. In true Seasick Steve style, it was all far from smooth but demonstrated a mixture of attempted showmanship and him genuinely enjoying himself.

“This piece of shit is called a Diddly-Bow”, said Wold, introducing his latest one-stringed lap instrument. Getting an incredible range of sound from its single-string, Wold instigated a series of rhythmic grunts from his audience on the fittingly titled, Diddly-Bo. The growling blues of Cut My Wings was then transformed into a ferocious 10 minutes that saw Wold prowl the stage, get tired and sit down on the ground, stand up again, turn off his guitar and momentarily sing acapella to the crowd’s clapping before switching it back on to powerfully finish with the aid of his son’s relentless drumming.

After sheepishly requesting a sing-a-long on Things Go Up (“It’s kinda corny but, you know…”), Wold showed off his large wad of Australian cash, offering it to anyone who was having a bad time and wanted their money back. Unsurprisingly, no one accepted his offer. He fluctuated between fierce guitar and spoken word poetry to a silent and captivated audience on Never Go West, before informing them all of an American parasite called a Chigger. Never before has the line “I wear my socks up to my knees!” sounded as cool as it did in during the subsequent rollicking blues of Chiggers.

“You’ve got to go off stage like the rockstars” said Wold, having just returned after a minute’s intermission. “I 100% appreciate you coming here tonight. It’s a miracle I’m here”. He then proceeded to speak about his violent childhood and his decision to leave home at 14, rather than shoot his stepfather. What followed was an incredible 15 minute rendition of Dog House Boogie that finished with both father and son leaving their instruments and microphones to walk about the Athenaeum, shaking hands and barking the songs chorus with a mesmerised audience on backing vocals. Taking a moment to stare back at the crowd who had just shared this special moment, Seasick Steve then departed through a stage door and was finished.

The irony about Seasick Steve is evident. He sings the blues about his old life because life now is that much better. Without those years of hard luck and pain though, he wouldn’t be the performer he is today. While bands like The Snowdroppers may serve as an homage to the past, Seasick Steve is, without doubt, the real deal. He may be truly grateful to those who come out to support him but in truth, it is we who are lucky to have him.

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