There’s great affection between David Kilgour and Yo La Tengo; the former often helping out the latter on guitar, the latter often citing the former’s legendary NZ band, The Clean as an important influence. It’s therefore be no surprise that David Kilgour and his Heavy Eights are Yo La Tengo’s personally chosen support act for tonight’s show. Kilgour’s own blend of shimmering, slightly psychedelic music sheds some light on just how far around the globe Yo La Tengo’s roots stretch. Although he and his band lack the insightful creativeness of the headliners, they match them in musical virtuosity and certainly give credence to Kilgour’s receipt of New Zealand’s Order of Merit in recognition of his contribution to the country’s arts and cultural heritage.
Although Yo La Tengo was still only a twinkle in Ira Kaplan and Georgia Hubley’s eyes when David Kilgour notched up 10 years as a recording artist, they can still lay claim to a musical history that spans over twenty years and is stuffed full to bursting with gorgeous, multifaceted, inventive pop. Such a back-catalogue must present a huge dilemma on how to even start to decide what to play on tour. Whether the band opted for names-out-of-a-hat or a considered, democratic vote, tonight’s set-list at Sydney’s Metro Theatre is a delicious combination of the old, the not so old, the new and the odd cover thrown in for good measure. Dipping into 2003’s Summer Sun the New Jersey trio approach the evening softly with the understated Our Way To Fall taken from 2000’s And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out. Drummer Georgia Hubley sends a whisper of a snare in the direction of her husband Ira who responds with a melodic vocal that beautifully straddles the gap between speaking and singing.
For a band with a keen, playful sense of humour (anyone present at their last show at the Metro will have fond memories of their awkwardly cute attempt at line-dancing), Yo La Tengo take their time to bring forth their less workmanlike side. Six songs in Ira breaks the ice by saying how nice it is to be back in what he thinks of as Australia’s capital (I bet he says that to all the cities) and at the same time ushers in songs from their latest release I Am Not Afraid Of You And I Will Beat Your Ass. Beanbag Chair retains all of its sunny pogo pop feel and is followed by the disco flavoured Mr Tough, which loses its brass but gains a cool polish courtesy of Ira’s turn on the keyboard piano.
The boys eventually pass the vocal baton to Georgia who, despite having a small, watery voice, is able to break hearts at a hundred paces. As she moves from the jaunty Weakest Part through to the lonely piano scored ballad I Feel Like Going Home, an unprecedented hush descends. At moments like this there is normally an inconsiderate few that just absolutely must discuss some drivel or other rather than pay attention to the person on stage. But not now, not tonight…nobody speaks, not one.
Reverence is only allowed for the briefest of moments though, before the band collectively boot it from the stage with the necessary riot of I Should Have Known Better, a deconstructed Sugarcube and the amphetamine fired Watch Out For Me Rhonnie. James McNew finally steps in to take the wind out of the punk rock sails with a nagging baseline that skewers the rambling cacophony of Pass The Hatchet, I Think I’m Goodkind.
When a band is this incredible you assume that it’ll take nothing short of fire, flood and fury to prise the audience out of the venue, but for some strange reason the band’s first encore kick-starts a slow dribble of people out of the door. Even David Kilgour’s return to stage for a blistering rendition of The Clean’s Don’t Point That Thing At Me can’t arrest the flow of people as they make their way home. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s somewhere around midnight on a weekday night or maybe Sydneysiders, generally starved of bands this remarkable, can only take so much of a good thing.
