Papa Vs. Pretty @ Spectrum,Sydney (28/08/2010)

Fri 3rd Sep, 2010 in Gig Reviews

Indie rock nights are a very hit or miss affair. They can be thoroughly spectacular; with all the showmanship and post-punk angst that audience and bands alike might once have expunged at the infamous Hacienda. Or it can degenerate into a charade of tight-jeaned Joy Division soundalikes and sour-lipped synth toting. I was well prepared for either eventuality. My experience with Spectrum has been generally favourable but I wasn’t walking in with rose tinted glasses.

Goldhearted’s fiery, clanging guitars and blistered snares greeted the punters, like a younger, slightly more upbeat British India. It was a catchy, fun set but ironically enough, nothing to write home about.

Next up was Loon Lake, a ragtag bunch of pseudo-reggaeish hipsters of the Stroke’s school of musicologythat was forgotten by the time the opening strains of Sierra Fin rang out. Think that family band, folkrocksie, everybody-is-a-musical-polymath vibe, or just a wimpier Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Not that there wasn’t a spectacle of some sort; the front man, waved his electrified ukulele (yes, yes I know) around like it was a deadly weapon and the keyboardist looked like he was going to go into conniptions of ecstasy at any moment. He introduced their penultimate song saying, “Alright, yes I know we’re just the support band but can you just pretend for a second that you are here to see us and that this is the song you’ve been waiting for all night?”

Finally, the night’s headliners took to the stage. I only heard Papa vs. Pretty’s stuff from their Myspace but I have to say, I was impressed enough by just that to give them a solid go. There was absolutely no reason to be disappointed. Frontman/guitarist/auteur Thomas Rawle commanded the stage and his instrument with a soothing ease that would have allayed the jibes of even the toughest critics. The new songs predictably garnered the best crowd reaction, particularly the raucous, fleeting Heavy Harm and the deep grooving riffery of Ask Yourself. The real showstealer was Rawle’s electrifying solos, almost Prince-like in their burning, bluesy potency.

As if to confirm this suspicion, the band encored with an up-tempo version of the Artist’s signature Purple Rain. Cheesy? Maybe. But well intentioned and superbly executed. The gig came to a close, the curtains followed suit and the punters dispersed in warm, beery euphoria. Its nice to think you’re leaving a gig in the presence of a real rock star, and in Rawle, I think we may just have found a new guitar hero.