Lamb, Oh Ye Denver Birds @ TheHi-Fi Bar, Brisbane(18/02/2011)

Sun 20th Feb, 2011 in Gig Reviews

Oh Ye Denver Birds don’t make a big deal about being the Brisbane band chosen to support Lamb nationally. But then, they don’t seem like the kind of band to make a big deal of much.

With not a word, they move seamlessly from being their own roadies to being a band, non-descript in black and without much artifice or style to obscure their layered, folk-inspired harmonies.

I was musing before I arrived about the difficulty of finding a band to complement Lamb’s unique blend of trip-hop hippy balladry. Finding a support band, I reckoned, would be a challenge.

But it turns out the major obstacle is audio problems. There is a clipping that starts with the first four chords they play and never really goes away; and the vocals are distant and muddy for much of their set.

In Walls, an old-fashioned riff builds over 1980s keys like an INXS tune. It’s just as well the singer is howling, we can’t hear him anyway. Their set ends on the soporific note of tinkling piano loops reminiscent of a music box, filled out with throbbing bass – like a Hollywood monster is clambering up the stairs in search of innocence. I defy anyone not to rock back and forth.

Fresh white hotel towels are laid out for Lamb. When they emerge, Lou Rhodes has a draping Athenian frock and her hair in a feminine side bun; and Andy Barlow is dressed in a khaki green sleeveless shirt. It is like he is ready to go to war and she’s hoping to serenade the generals long enough to prevent it.

“It’s good to see you all, especially since you’ve been having such a shit time lately,” Rhodes says. “We thought you’d all be washed away and there would only be two people here.”

The Hi-Fi is packed (due in part to the venue’s inexplicable need to close the mezzanine) in anticipation of being among the first to hear tunes from Lamb’s forthcoming fifth album (which is titled 5, to be released on May 5, of course).

It comes with a cymbal crash as the band launches into Butterfly Effect, a groovy but somewhat foreboding new track with an almost militaristic rhythmic drive and ambitious lyrics. “And all the world will know,” Rhodes croons.

Angelica gets an update, with a gypsy-inspired 2+2+1 staccato beat driving it forward.

Another new track gets a rousing reception for its machine gun loops and trip-hop roots. On the screen behind them, black Converse sneakers tread lightly near the centre dividing line of a road. There’s momentum here, and it is Lamb at its best: a graft of deep organic grooves with an electric sensibility; Rhodes’ earthy waver over Barlow’s mechanical riffs.

“It takes a tree to make a me, stronger roots underneath,” Rhodes appears to sing as some sort of explanation for the band’s much-lamented haitus. It’s like Lamb had to find who they were apart in order to regroup stronger.

Barlow admits there was a time at the middle of last year where the pair had discussed “putting down” Lamb. It’s clear they’re not willing to rest on their laurels when it comes to re-envisaging their hits.

Gabriel shines over a new treatment of garage loops and bone-shaking bass. As he leads into the second chorus, Barlow lifts his hands in the air like a preacher and his congregation responds in kind.

A faithful rendition of Goreki, however, gets a surprisingly lacklustre response. Save a smattering of couples who spent the song with doe-eyes locked, the room seemed singularly unmoved by the song that seemed to be on every wedding playlist for 1997.

It is only when Barlow picks up the bongos for a freeform solo over a stalking bass line that the crowd lifts, and eventually starts to sing the famous lines: “Could we stay right here, Until the end of time, Until the earth stops turning?”

If tonight’s crowd reaction to Lamb’s new tunes is anything to go by, the new album promises to really be something special.