Rowland S. Howard, TheDevastations @ Ric's Bar,Brisbane, 24/04/05

Fri 20th May, 2005 in Gig Reviews

Rowland S. Howard sets don’t exactly come along every day. Which is a shame, as the man’s one of Australia’s greatest songwriters, and it couldn’t hurt for more people to be aware of his work, particularly when he can sell out shows in Europe with ease, while finding punters who know his name here can be a struggle. So, when a show at Ric’s, in support of the excellent Melbournian group The Devastations was announced, there was only one thing to do – jump a plane and catch the show. It was an investment that was well rewarded, and from the moment the angular, almost Dickensian in appearance singer took the stage, armed only with a Fender Jaguar, the jam-packed crowd were enthralled.

Starting with Dead Radio, the standard was set high, early. Most of Howard’s beautifully dark (and woefully underappreciated Teenage Snuff Film was given an outing this evening, with Breakdown (...And Then) and Silver Chain being particular highlights. It was interesting to see Howard’s performance: the singer (and spikily brilliant guitarist) spent a lot of time looking towards the ceiling, focusing on a distant point as if somehow detached from the proceedings. Yet, when he chatted with the audience, Rowland was much more amiable than I’d expected, given his stature. It really gave this set – which already, given the instrumentation, had a touch of nakedness about it – a really familiar, comfortable feel. So simple, yet so important.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a Rowland S. Howard gig without someone shouting a request for Shivers. Or, as the punter in question had labelled it, Shingles. (Perhaps some rare Ratcat-These Immortal Souls collaboration? Hard to say.) Still, whatever the provenance, Howard got the message, and laughed that the request had stopped his brain from working. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be – after a bit of thought, the singer told the audience that that particular tune required two guitars. The appearance of an apocalyptic cover of White Wedding served to sate punters’ desires, though, judging by the applause that particular song gathered.

The set ended as Howard was joined onstage by The Devastastions for fabulous versions of Autoluminescent and The Ocean, with the latter tune being dedicated to a punter who, earlier in the set, had requested a Velvet Underground tune. The additional musicians filled out the sound, giving a different feel to the songs: less fragile, more emotionally reinforced. It was a combination with tantalised; surely a full set from these two entities is in order?

The set tonight begs the question: when’s the next Rowland S. Howard disc coming out? In a morass of nu-metal and retro rock, songwriting needs this man.

The Devastastions took to the stage for the second time that evening with what seemed to be some trepidation – earlier in the evening, the band’s soundcheck had been fraught with equipment failure and general pissed-offedness – but, one or two hiccups aside, this was soon discarded. The band’s sound is, so much more emphatic on stage than it is on record. Where songs make a point with finesse on The Devastations, that same point’s hammered home solidly on stage. There’s very much a feeling that the tunes are off-the-map when they’re played live: while they’re as musically solid and emotionally strong as on disc, there’s an element of unpredictability, of potential in live performance that isn’t communicated on record. It’s a spark, if you like, that the band use to their full advantage.

Frontman Conrad Standish’s demeanour while playing is fascinating to watch. He spends much of his time with eyes closed, moving away from the microphone and then coming close in to ensure that lyrics that turn into anguished cries don’t blow out the PA. The singer’s bass is played aggressively, its headstock thumping up and down to punctuate the tunes’ basslines. It’s a picture of a man in transport, and an intriguing mix of control and abandon. In contrast, guitarist Tom Carlyon is the picture of cool: wrangling the melodic lines that colour the band’s songs with offhand aplomb. Drummer Hugo Cran – unfortunately jammed into the front corner of the tiny venue – plays spaciously and solidly, while Augie March keyboard player Kiernan Box, who fills out the live incarnation of The Devastations, managed to look vaguely out-of-place, with his mad-professor hair and bemused expression. (Appearances aside, Box’s contribution to the sound is easily identifiable and important – his playing’s in sympathy with the songs and adds depth to live performance’s necessarily stripped-down version of the band.)

The Devastations was pretty much the centrepiece of the band’s set tonight, with most of that album receiving an airing. Particularly strong was the version of Loene played this evening – its high-drama country feel was ratcheted up a notch to become a table-thumping rabble-rouser, played just a touch faster than normal, with a lowrider guitar line conjuring up dustblown vistas in a sweat-filled room. Elsewhere, We Will Never Drink Again slowed things down for a teary beer moment which revealed the bruised hearts at the centre of the band. Though they can rock with the best of ‘em, The Devastations’ true strength lies in their take on melancholy, in their ability to harness quiet anguish and communicate it in a way that never seems overwrought or self-serving. Rare, that. Don’t even get me started on Previous Crimes – a song that highlighted Standish’s rich, smooth vocal lines, over a descending bassline and fragile melody, over emotive keys and lightly thrummed drums. It’s the tune that shows that they might’ve been tutored by Tindersticks, but puts them beyond that band in terms of simple, throat-hitching emotion.

A couple of new songs made appearances this evening, undoubtedly the fruits of the band’s recent recording sessions. Though I can’t recall the name of it (Something to do with coal – I admit that though Conrad spelled it out for those with notebooks, mine was in my back pocket, and the venue’s crowded nature made it impossible to retrieve it without breaking my fingers.) there was one in particular that stood out from the rest. It took the band’s dark view a little further into the woods – perhaps a bit more towards 16 Horsepower’s territory – and it was a journey that I liked a lot. Judging from tonight’s glimpses, the disc that’s coming up will be one to watch.

After their set proper finished, the band were encouraged back onstage for what Standish distinctly claimed was not an encore. He and Carlyon sang a sweet, harmonised, guitar-and-voice number, before the rest of the band rejoined the stage for a version of The Beasts Of Bourbon’s The Low Road. Justifiably renowned, this was a cover version with teeth, a landslide of anger and bent guitar notes that bludgeoned the audience yet kept them wanting more. Tom Carlyon appeared to be throttling his guitar during the tune, and when the band left the stage at its conclusion, it was with a look of exhaustion.

Them and the audience both.

The trip was worth it. Ric’s is a special venue, and seeing both of these bands – friends – together was an opportunity not to be missed. I doubt very much that there was a gig with more emotion and honesty played this evening, anywhere.