8 March - 8:00, Sydney CBD
Pity The Hold Steady. The only reason I was even there is because the day before The Metro had ten double passes to give away over Facebook to people who could explain why they should be let in for free. I figured it was one of those competitions where you won if you put a little more thought into your answer than Because I freakin LOVE THS!
Because, I mean. If you loved them, you would've bought a ticket weeks ago. My response went
MP3: The Hold Steady - One For The Cutters
They didn't play it.
Even with all this extra room meat in the venue, they still had to close off the back area of the theatre, drive people to the front, make the place seem more packed than it was. The show was woefully under-attended. It would have suited the Annandale Hotel, made a better show even, what with the intimacy.
The Gun Street Girls were the sole openers. None of them were girls. I get jokes. They played straight-down-the-line rock & roll from a high stage to an almost empty room. They dressed like they were The Living End, and they were from Melbourne. Lots of energy, but nobody knew who they were.
Toward the end of their last song the bassist picked up a harmonica and played some. He stopped playing bass. When they finished, he forcefully threw the harmonica onto the ground. It was then that I knew I was in the presence of a Rock Star.
When The Hold Steady came on, balding dweeby frontman Craig Finn stepped up to the microphone and said "We're gonna have a good time tonight." Then they launched into 'Constructive Summer'. Those in the predominantly male crowd made up for their low numbers. They had a good time.
As was to be expected, the show was all about Finn, in a good way. He carried the whole thing on his narrow office worker shoulders. Leaving most of the instrument work to the two other guitarists, he poured himself into his vocal duties. Gesticulating like a raving Mediterranean. Offering up commentaries on his songs' stories in between lines, with shakes of the head or lip-read words spoken away from the mic.
Photo ripped off Daniel Munns of Virgin Mobile Photography
Between songs he would tell stories. I was compelled to compare him to John Darnielle. He came off the lesser, but still. (I mean who doesn't?) He tells us he is 39 years old. He has been doing The Hold Steady for ten years. Before that, he wore a tie to work. This story had become a part of stage presence. He seems so constantly surprised that he's made it, as if at any moment They might come and take his guitar away and send him back to his day job, some awful mistake finally rectified.
My difficultly with the show was that I'm only familiar with their two most recent albums, numbers four and five. Apparently number three is a motherfucking cracker. Everyone else there seemed to know it. So did the band. I knew perhaps 30% of the set list, and had to pretend with the rest.
Noticeably absent, and perhaps accounting for the set choices, was a keyboardist. At one point some crowd members called out Where's Franz?, referring to keyboardist Franz Nicolay, who left the band after five years in 2010. Certainly the show could have benefited from a touring keys player, especially considering how central they are to the studio recordings of some of their better songs.
During 'Most People Are DJs', near the end of the set, Finn instructed the audience in how to clap double-time. It was a fast and tiring rhythm to keep, for the committed only. "That sounds like real people," Finn said, smashing his hands together gleefully, "That sounds like real love."
Three stars.
Pity The Hold Steady. The only reason I was even there is because the day before The Metro had ten double passes to give away over Facebook to people who could explain why they should be let in for free. I figured it was one of those competitions where you won if you put a little more thought into your answer than Because I freakin LOVE THS!
Because, I mean. If you loved them, you would've bought a ticket weeks ago. My response went
Because that one song they do, it reminds me of the time I rolled with the wrong sort of crowd, made out with the wrong sort of boys. Boys who liked to ride in my car. Boys with knives. Boys who knew what it takes to be a man.I needn't have bothered. Eight people entered. I won by default. For anyone playing at home, the song was this song.
That was a very dark time in my life. That song is totally me. If I get these tickets and they play that song, I will destroy your fine theatre from floor to high ceiling with my bare hands.
MP3: The Hold Steady - One For The Cutters
They didn't play it.
Even with all this extra room meat in the venue, they still had to close off the back area of the theatre, drive people to the front, make the place seem more packed than it was. The show was woefully under-attended. It would have suited the Annandale Hotel, made a better show even, what with the intimacy.
The Gun Street Girls were the sole openers. None of them were girls. I get jokes. They played straight-down-the-line rock & roll from a high stage to an almost empty room. They dressed like they were The Living End, and they were from Melbourne. Lots of energy, but nobody knew who they were.
Toward the end of their last song the bassist picked up a harmonica and played some. He stopped playing bass. When they finished, he forcefully threw the harmonica onto the ground. It was then that I knew I was in the presence of a Rock Star.
When The Hold Steady came on, balding dweeby frontman Craig Finn stepped up to the microphone and said "We're gonna have a good time tonight." Then they launched into 'Constructive Summer'. Those in the predominantly male crowd made up for their low numbers. They had a good time.
As was to be expected, the show was all about Finn, in a good way. He carried the whole thing on his narrow office worker shoulders. Leaving most of the instrument work to the two other guitarists, he poured himself into his vocal duties. Gesticulating like a raving Mediterranean. Offering up commentaries on his songs' stories in between lines, with shakes of the head or lip-read words spoken away from the mic.
Photo ripped off Daniel Munns of Virgin Mobile PhotographyBetween songs he would tell stories. I was compelled to compare him to John Darnielle. He came off the lesser, but still. (I mean who doesn't?) He tells us he is 39 years old. He has been doing The Hold Steady for ten years. Before that, he wore a tie to work. This story had become a part of stage presence. He seems so constantly surprised that he's made it, as if at any moment They might come and take his guitar away and send him back to his day job, some awful mistake finally rectified.
My difficultly with the show was that I'm only familiar with their two most recent albums, numbers four and five. Apparently number three is a motherfucking cracker. Everyone else there seemed to know it. So did the band. I knew perhaps 30% of the set list, and had to pretend with the rest.
Noticeably absent, and perhaps accounting for the set choices, was a keyboardist. At one point some crowd members called out Where's Franz?, referring to keyboardist Franz Nicolay, who left the band after five years in 2010. Certainly the show could have benefited from a touring keys player, especially considering how central they are to the studio recordings of some of their better songs.
During 'Most People Are DJs', near the end of the set, Finn instructed the audience in how to clap double-time. It was a fast and tiring rhythm to keep, for the committed only. "That sounds like real people," Finn said, smashing his hands together gleefully, "That sounds like real love."
Three stars.
0 comments:
Post a Comment