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RTRFM’s Fresh Blast program, sponsoring local album releases, must have thought they’d be onto a good thing by sponsoring Minute 36 to launch at the Rosemount. The place was plastered with Alcohol. Think again messages, which seemed more than a little ironic, and zany host for the night Noah had energy to spare. This was before he descended into drunken, incoherent rantings, but more on that later…

First support spots are always tough, and Davey Craddock and the Bad News had a particularly tiny crowd to croon to. The Rosie is not exactly an intimate space. Despite announcing that they were a very new outfit, Craddock and Co were simply brilliant. Craddock’s voice carries real emotion and he is quite happy riffing away on his acoustic.

Despite some shocking levels (get your act together, Rosie!) Peanuts was beautifully melancholy without crossing the fine line into “whiney”. Granted, this brand of country-indie-and-sometimes-comedy isn’t for everyone; it does occasionally border on cheesy. But, you be hard pressed to find someone who doesn’t like Bob Dylan is Dead. It’s a killer song; bangs the nail on the head and hits the spot for any music lover, regardless of genre. Plus, it’s funny. Surely this will be the ticket to the big(ger) time for Craddock, and hopefully put an end to the first support listings.

Nowhere near as impressive was blues crooner Hayley Beth. The girl thinks her voice is much better than it is, and doesn’t seem to know its limits – or what sounds good. She near overdosed her audience with too much attempted bluesy grit; that guttural growl which normally sounds so sexy. Beth’s voice, however, was painful and sounded extremely forced. It’s such a shame, because in those rare moments when she actually sings with her actual voice, it’s wondrous.

Her work on acoustic was pretty standard, but toe-tapping nonetheless. Who knows, maybe she was sick, but she’d had a bad day, maybe it was her birthday? She kept making jokes about it, and you honestly couldn’t tell. Her banter between songs was less banter and more abrasive, egotistic remarks. It only served to alienate an already unresponsive and uninterested audience.

At this point, it seemed like things could only get better, with Schvendes and Minute 36 still to rock out beneath the disco ball. Alas! No such luck – Schvendes were without drummer Matt Maguire. This left the Schvendes set lacking a lot of substance – it was all experimental fluff without any backbone, although they were doing the best that they could. Tristan Parr’s electric cello looks oh-so-cool, but he doesn’t do anything interesting with it at all. In fact, Schvendes might have benefited from a standard cello with a fuller sound to give their songs more body. Then again, this would probably have been remedied with the drums; hopefully Maguire’s absence is not a permanent one. As such, they opened with a lacklustre performance that you kept waiting to be kicked into high gear…but it didn’t. The set was very samey same and the only real stand-out was Rachael Dease’s spectacular voice. She added the only element of drama to a performance that was in dire need of a bit more oomph.

What was becoming a long, drawn out night finally came to the main event. An incredibly drunk Noah announced Minute 36 with some drunken ramblings that could be barely understood, let alone repeated. “Alcohol. Think again”? Clearly not.

Not surprisingly, the old tracks were favourites. Era Quondam and Pianoface showed just how well Minute 36 do ‘off’ sounds that are so twisted and intriguing that they simply work. The circus-style intro to Room 14 is spine-tinglingly creepy yet so delicious – except maybe if you’re afraid of clowns. So, bravo to Kris Nelson on double bass and Mark Neal on guitar for achieving that, because it is no easy feat.

Considering how well-loved their off beat sound has become, you would think Minute 36 would stick to a good thing. And there is an undertone of what has worked for them already. But the album An Argument Between the Taste and the Feeling also goes in a slightly different direction, which isn’t necessarily likeable. Nelson’s vocals go from being curious and uncanny to being quite whiny. A Golden Glove Humility is in the same try-hard vein as the loathsome Panic! At the Disco. Add to this a lack of any performance element to the set and you’ve got a pretty ordinary launch. The excitement of releasing a debut album was fleeting and transparent.

Thankfully, Mary got a whirl under the light of a disco ball. Neal’s uncanny riff is striking, while the double bass completely fills out the sound. It’s spooky and yummy, and the unexpected breakdown fits perfectly. It’s a clever song, one that challenges as much as it entertains.

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