Sunset Sounds 2011 - Day One @Botanical Gardens, Brisbane(05/01/2011)

Mon 10th Jan, 2011 in Gig Reviews

Brisbane’s version of The Falls Festival, sans tent and road trip, Sunset Sounds rolled into town for a third instalment in 2011 at the inner city Botanical Gardens.

Arriving early, determined to catch Foster A Band winners Ball Park Music, it’s frustrating to discover that ticketing and queuing seem to be quite the kerfuffle. Luckily, the entrance parallels the Riverstage and their danceable pop tunes can still be heard. Not quite as pleasant as simultaneously enjoying their onstage antics, but it has to do.

Cloud Control have pulled most punters already inside the gate to the Gardens Stage. Their pop sound with split female/male vocals are fitting for the setting and mood, and their on stage presence is that of a hardworking band. When they launch into Nothing In The Water the general buzz of “ahh, so it’s this band that sings this song” washes over, and they earn themselves a bunch of new fans.

Sleigh Bells make a lot of noise and pull an impressive crowd as second act on the Riverstage. The two piece make a lot of noise, accompanied by a wall of amps and their backing track of sludgy bass, driving beats and punchy hand claps. Alexis Krauss ’ voice is what keeps them interesting, using it to full effect with screams, non-word vocalization and the odd string of lyrics. If the duo were to recreate their sound with a full live lineup, they’d be infinitely more impressive.

Although sporting a new album Future Breeds, Canadians Hot Hot Heat don’t neglect their older songs. Oh God Damnit off Make Up The Breakdown and Goodnight, Goodnight and Middle of Nowhere off Elevator are most impressive. The crowd follows front man Steve Bays ’ lead and just dance. Although their sound seems a little 2005, Hot Hot Heat still play a remarkable set.

And then it begins to pour. No wait, torrentially downpour. Within seconds most are soaked to the skin. Those already watching Cold War Kids don’t seem to mind. I only make it to the Riverstage midway through Hang Me Up To Dry and am a little too absorbed in finding shelter to take much notice of anything but the irony of song title versus current environment.

Psychedelic rockers Tame Impala only succeed with distracting a small number of people at the front from the rain. It’s not until later we discover the double whammy of staying dry and getting up close to the stage. For one of Australia’s most acclaimed bands, they’re a little disappointing, but under different circumstances this wouldn’t be so. Unluckily, the rain drowns out this performance.

Ladyhawke opens with Magic faithfully recreated with her five-piece band. Ladyhawke herself plays a funky guitar but her vocals are a little low in the mix, overpowered at times by her bandmates’ live backing vocals and her prerecorded ones. Nonetheless, the set rolls out in much the same order as the album: Professional Suicide, From Dusk Til Dawn (a highlight), Another Runaway, Love Don’t Live Here Anymore, Better Than Sunday. Danny & Jenny (a B-side for a reason), Back of The Van (crowd fave, even with a comically loud synth line) and a shoddy version of Paris Is Burning. They’re tight, if a little lacking in stage presence, and do a great job of recreating the tracks with a mix of live instrumentation, synths and triggers.

Kitty, Daisy and Lewis, along with Ma on double bass and Pa on acoustic guitar and supervisory duties, are in a league of their own at this festival; their musicianship and groove harking right back to old school blues and rockabilly. They weather a plethora of technical snags but come out on top. By track they they’ve almost got shit sorted (the accordian works, the fifth vocal mike is up), and the drum/beatbox breakdown by the girls keeps the crowd amused.

Streams of wet people ooze down to the Garden Stage to see The National, one of the festival’s most talked about bands. They deserve the best dressed award for the spiffy suits they’re sporting. It’s a memorable first impression and their show consists mostly of their critically acclaimed fifth album High Violet. Anyone’s Ghost and Terrible Love are personal favourites. The National seem to be a love-them-or-hate-them band. For those who sit on the fence, the live show is most likely the tipping point. Although it’s not bad tonight, it’s a little underwhelming. *Matt Berninger*’s baritone vocals are a little hit and miss, and the set doesn’t take you where you might expect. But obviously, not everyone would agree, and there’s some fine instrumental performances, notably from the horns lurking in the stage’s shadows.

From the moment Flava Flav pops a clock round his neck, Public Enemy set about making their time on stage today’s highlight. As seems to be all the rage these days (Shihad’s The General Electric at The Zoo on Saturday and Queens Of The Stone Age uncoming sideshows spring to mind), all of Sunset Sounds’ publicity clearly specified that Public Enemy would be “performing _Fear Of A Black Planet in it’s entirity_”; instead they leave off a few filler tracks and replace them with highlights from It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back. There’s no awkward ‘new hits’, instead hip-hop stalwarts Chuck D, Flava Flav and their musical army – live drums, bass, guitar, backup MCs parading as military bouncers – go about delivering 911, Noise, Hype, Fight The Power with all the enthusiasm of twenty years ago. Time flies when you’re having fun. Colouring the set is a one minute hiphop rendition of AC/DC’s Back In Black with incredibly crunchy guitars, Flava Flav showing off his mediocre bass skills on Terrordome, a mindblowing DJ mashup of Seven Nation Army and Teen Spirit, and Chuck D speiling about Queensland’s current affairs, racism and soliciting new music from Australian MCs for his to email him MP3s for his radio show in New York (go on, do it: andyoudontstopradioshow@gmail.com). Poncho hop never felt so good.

Interpol is a band who, by default of genre, borders on boring, and it’s a shame they’re billed after such an energetic act. Surprsingly, they play a fan’s dream set; full of oldies off Antics and Our Love to Admire. There is a solid bulk sway of ponchos but it’s difficult to gage just how into their set the crowd really is with such downtempo tracks. Paul Banks ’ voice is phenomenal as ever, but the guitars are low in the mix and I struggle to stay interested. Before they leave the stage, I wade ankle deep through running water, homeward bound and wondering if tomorrow’s forecasted thunderstorm is going to wreak more havoc on the mud-decimated Botantical Gardens.

Reviewed by Natalie Dodds and Crystle Fleper. Compiled by Crystle Fleper.