St. Jerome's Laneway Festival@ Footscray Community ArtsCentre, Melbourne (05/02/2011)

Mon 7th Feb, 2011 in Gig Reviews

The night before Melbourne’s leg of the beloved Laneway Festival saw the city and its outer-suburbs cursed with flash floods, their chaos debilitating a Friday night’s usual frivolity. Ticket-holders suddenly had cause for concern, an unbearably wet festival experience thought to be on the cards. In a miraculous revelation, however, Footscray would ultimately endure little more than overcast skies to again host an impressive array of local and international band and artists. The day was on and, despite the odds, it would prove to be bigger and better than ever.

Typically, triple j’s pick for next-big-thing would help kick off proceedings, locals Buchanan prepared for an enormous opportunity. Punters would welcome the sprightly affair, many flocking the stage to see a band assured and enthusiastic in their craft. They show some promising signs, a strong sense of melody coming to the fore time and again across their set. Midway through, the band identified their next track as Teenage Dream. One – perhaps ashamedly – had hoped that they would perform a cover of a Katy Perry favourite, if only for laughs. Alas, it was never meant to be. Laneway were, however, treated to a slice of sunny, impassioned pop rock bristling with optimism, defined by all-in vocals sung with gusto. That was the good news. On the flipside, there’s this nagging notion tethered to Buchanan’s set that their songs seem destined to advertise, for example, $29 mobile phone cap plans. You can imagine a little too well; they’re just that sort of band. Teachers went on to establish another highlight of the band’s Laneway debut, but the track was indicative of the band’s tendency to remain just nice enough without being wholly inspired. The bottom line was simple enough: Buchanan had provided a good start to the day, but business was certainly about to pick up.

It was around this time that word traveled concerning Rat Vs Possum’s set. The River Stage, in some cruelly apt twist, had been affected by floods and had not been readied in time for the band’s performance. The disappointing revelation scattered many punters across the festival grounds, whilst others remained behind with the promise of World’s End Press’ appearance going ahead as planned. Their set would prove a real treat, a strict, methodical approach working wonders in developing their brand of booming electronica-dance music. A drum kit and drum pad first combined to establish an emphatic dance beat, foundations laid for some impressive musicianship. The band are notable for their careful restraint utilised to build the intricacies of their repertoire from the ground up. Soon, a synthesiser’s arpeggiator had emerged, twinkling gloriously as an Italo Disco feel prevailed to fuel the band’s energetic appearance. The irresistible fever soon spread and captured its fair share of supporters, the stage barrier lined with jiving, fun-loving punters. World’s End Press excel in funky, expertly crafted bass grooves layered with delightful complexities, from stabbing guitar lines to prominent percussive inclusions. Closing with Golden Child, the band had well and truly won the crowd over with an exercise in near-flawless fun.

The next act to the River Stage would promise a contrasting affair, Brooklyn band The Antlers finally gracing our shores two years since their acclaimed album Hospice. They’re an absorbing act, specialising in a brooding, slow-burning alternative rock outlook that adheres to the likes of Bon Iver, Grizzly Bear and The National. Their music possesses a unique winding, enthralling quality, showcasing a solemness that somehow never seems so heavy as to compromise their performance. It’s actually much more natural an occurrence to get carried away with the grandiose sense of introverted cinema, frontman Peter Silberman’s voice leading the charge as both powerful and evocative force. It did not help The Antlers, however, that they were sandwiched between two friskier, more exciting acts, the reception positive but tempered. One can’t help but feel that the best experience of The Antlers may be saved for their own headlines shows in which heir thunderous intricacies and brilliant dramatic poise could be enjoyed to the fullest. Two marked the finale of their set, keys glistening with the band’s members chiming in with beautiful harmonies. In a display of rockier, heavier renditions of their studio work, The Antlers remained as warm and arresting as one could hope for.

Next up were Cloud Control. It seems more and more these days that you can count on the Blue Mountains for a great show, their appearance at this leg of the Laneway Festival only providing credence to the claim. The band brought their slew of handclaps, harmonies and infectious melodies before the crowd to earn a rousing reception, the slick ecstasy of This Is What I Said bringing new life to the day’s proceedings. Eventually the band would surrender to a widespread wish and play their infamous cover of Kid Cudi’s Pursuit Of Happiness, before moving onto favourites There’s Nothing In The Water and the foot-stomping psychadelia of Gold Canary. There were no real surprises here for anyone familiar with the band, but such an accomplished and enjoyable performance again affirmed that Bliss Release is one hell of a record, its elements of folk, country and rock mish-mashing together to yield exceptional results in both a live and studio arena. Cloud Control are in their prime and to ignore such a fact would be perilous.

The time had come to give Beach House a second chance, following a less than desirable evening spent at the Curtin Rooftop. All credit goes to the Baltimore band, however, who in a bigger and more resonate display somehow redeemed their standing. It’s odd that Beach House should have appeared and sounded more at home in a larger, less intimate setting, but such was the reality.

The band would once more indulge in a droning, lazy lo-fi approach, curating a dreamy atmosphere enough to typify the feeling of the afternoon. It really was the perfect time for the band’s set, posing as a relatively enjoyable calm before the storm of the evening’s headline acts. Moments of pounding toms, gentle waves of synthesiser and breathy vocals bled together in what remained a predictable par-for-the-course show, but it should be said that it was at least an improvement upon recent disappointments.

A large portion of the Moreland Street Stage crowd had been awash with conversation the entire set, but stand-out tracks such as Zebra set them straight, before a surprising finale marked the emergence of a powerful, more engaging Victoria Legrand, the frontwoman cutting loose in an engrossing display. Overall, this set became a definitive return to form for Beach House, but one still feels that their next studio foray must birth a brand new style. They might have been a lot more convincing here, but to remain on the same stylistic track would perpetuate the kind of monotony that ensures they run out of steam.