Black Cab opened the proceedings with a monochrome-laced set of fuzzy guitar rock. They play the kind of songs where melodies dribble out, rather than swagger and in-between a haze of six-string noodling it is often difficult to distinguish the song’s distinct sections. Ill-suited to the vocal acrobatics of Augie March, Black Cab are a band that are not immediately accessible and they struggled to reach the crowd at the Prince Bandroom. The sound crew seemed in agreement, cutting the lights before Black Cab could conclude their epic meanderings. Leaving the stage in a haze of guitar hiss and with a measured dig at their forced exit, Black Cab seemed less than happy with their not very festive welcome.
The youthful boulevardiers and their pretty objects of sweet-eyed courting seemed less than impressed with Black Cab’s wandering sound; overall there seemed to be a sad lack of cheer for what was supposedly a Christmas celebration.
Augie March adorned the stage in a mixture of festivity and aggression. Glenn Richards (singer-songwriter) taking particular issue with his inability to hear himself (and later on unleashing a verbal tirade aimed squarely at the supposedly monstrous noise emitting from Keirnan Box’s keyboard amp), but opting to steer the band away from calamity and more steadily towards Christmas time banter and a stocking full of the Augie catalogue.
Opening with Vernoona, one of the lesser-known songs from this year’s release Moo, You Bloody Choir, Augie March seem determined that this would be a show for fans. The band seemed visibly tired from the endless, drowning publicity mill that has eschewed since the release of One Crowded Hour. Glenn’s jaded references to their hit singles lack of earning potential sending a message that was backed by a set-list diverse and eclectic, catering to the fanatical and confusing the casual observer.
Building from the stock standard set of this year the riotous This Train Will Be Taking No Passengers is set at a mad-man tempo. The fan whispering of a beefed up, title-fight ready, Augie March beast ring true, as the boys delivered a stronger, pronounced and more maniacal sound. Driven by new rocker Just Passing Through and the rise-and-tumble of Cold Acre, the band have embraced a more spontaneous and edgy sound that allows the wild dynamics of Richards spectre-whispers to be offset against his roaring and belting, gig-grinded roar.
Despite the growth of these rock-anthem’s Augie March is a band for the balladeers and the stunning beauty of a Richards phrase is as big a draw card for the long-time, die-hard enthusiasts as it is for the hit-song leeches. One Crowded Hour is delivered with passion and a small tilt of urgency, the roaring applause confirming that this is the song of the year. Thin Captain Crackers shuffled along in its merry, little jig. The wafer-like pop and choir boy harmonies of the song resonated smoothly; as the tempo rolled to a sudden conclusion.
Rich Girl, a song from Waltz, is given a glorious rendition. While the band’s earlier material has been largely ignored (and superseded) in favour of the newer material, there is some spine-tingling brilliance in this track. Continuing the historical approach, the band cover a version of Dylan’s You Ain’t Going Nowhere, a typically ill-prepared Richard’s impaling the lyric sheet over the boom stand.
Despite the perfect folk-rock ditties, the Prince Christmas gig is a reminder that, more so than any other, Augie March are a human, everyman band prone to both brilliance and calamity. The bands shows are as spontaneous as structure can be and Augie have grown stronger from the gigging routine, matching the work ethic and ouput of their much lauded rock contemporaries. While the boys looked slightly worn-at-the-edges from a year of constant gigging, the resulting fruits were a Christmas treat.
