maimed by rock ‘n roll

As the last post alluded to, my recent musical experiences have left me cold. The unbalanced cost:enjoyment ratio of these international acts resulted in a sometimes bitter aftertaste. It took an old favourite to restore my faith in big ticket rock ‘n roll, though before that memorable evening on Bourke St came round, I was reminded just how good we’ve got in on our own doortstep for nicks. For a grand total of $18 over the Easter long weekend I caught The Spoils(haunting and lovely), The Bulls(rough ‘n tough ‘n good fun), Gareth Eunson and The Graveyard Sons(another class set, favourite local band right now) and Silver City Highway(a triumph-new album will be amongst the years best). Perhaps best though was a set at the Brunswick Green from Tracie McNeil and Jordie Lane, AKA the Fireside Bellows. Rustic acoustic country in the Easter dusk within a mellowed beergarden-the right music, the right time of day and the right company. Pretty hard to beat that. After a few weeks out of town it was a strong reminder of how formidable this town’s musical acts are. These bands could slug it out with most international heavyweights. Most.

As much as I wanted that Easter weekend to go on and on, I was looking forward to Wednesday. When it came it was all rain and ghost grey, Melbourne’s weather finally getting back to normal. Lunchtime I made my way through a sodden Carlton Gardens across to Fitzroy and the fantastic shop Title for an insotre performance from the Autumn Defense, the side project of Wilco’s John Stirrat and Pat Sansone. Wotta treat to be able to catch such classy music in your lunch break. As Stirrat suggested, they produce rainy day music so the setting was perfect with the precipitation tumbling down on Gertrude St as the number 86 trams clanged to and fro. Relaxed Californian pop strewn with perfect harmonies (occasionaly marred by a some jarring sound issues), this was an ideal entrée for the main course that evening.

The Palace(formerly the Metro) on Bourke St has a mixed reputation around town , I understand. As is the case with a lot of these Melbourne institutions which “ain’t as good as they used to be”(is anything?), I find having fresh eyes a big plus in avoiding being paralysed by reminisces of the good ol’ days as so many locals seem to be. These days seem pretty dang good to me. An ideal venue for a rock concert, the three levels and generous depth and width of the Palace provides no shortage of vantage points. With an ambiance of an old abandoned theatre, spot-on sound and an elaborate lighting system, this had serious potential to be a special show…

The Drones were an unusual choice for the support slot, as Gareth Liddiard acknowledged. Not for a moment were they going to tone down their set-The Drones do not have a low gear. Another monolithic showing from this brilliant local act which visibly disturbed some of the older, unfamiliar punters in the crowd. “I’m Here Now” and “Sittin’ on the Edge of the Bed Cryin’” were standouts while the previewing of a couple of new songs impressed. “Sharkfin Blues” was again the triumphant pinnacle, and I felt I had already got my money’s worth. The lights went up. Anticipation built. The lights went down.

What followed was a remarkable rock show. Wilco, one of the great bands of our time and at the height of their powers, took the love struck crowd through a set which left all in attendance spellbound and your correspondent still shaking his head in wonder a week later. “Misunderstood” was a sublime opener. A beautifully angry song about youth, love and rock ‘n roll which concluded in the usual castigating fashion:”I’d like you thank you all for NOTHING..NOTHING..NOTHING“(repeat x 1000). Magnificent, but merely the rumbling of the clouds on the hills before the deluge.

Over 2 and a half plus hours, Wilco played a staggering set which spanned across multiple genres and eras: 50’s country balladry, 60’s psychadelic pop, 70’s classic rock, 80’s Kraut rock, 90’s cosmic Americana and what can only be described as 00’s Wilco. The band appeared much more comfortable and confident than when I caught them last year at the Palais, songs which were then excessive and flabby now lean and lethal. The much maligned guitarist Nels Cline has settled into his place with the band, his sonic contributions now provided electrifying energy and imagination to the songs, not just superfluous ornamentation. The light show was striking-red, blue and yellow blasts synchronized perfectly in the big numbers and serene green light shimmering across the hall in the quieter songs (the exquisite “Reservations” especially memorable). Rowdy numbers from “Sky Blue Sky” were an early standout, the pairing of “You Are My Face” with “Side With Seeds” a masterstroke while the layered gutiar artistry of “Impossible Gemrany” sent one nearby chap into ecstatic convulsions. Evidently the material off the mildly received album had just as strong a grip on the hearts of Wilco fans as anything else they had to offer. Obscurities were dotted throughout, this set featuring songs as requested by fans on the band’s website. Sadly my request(“Someday Soon”) did not get a look in, but many an old favourite did, each performed with commensurate intensity and execution. “Shouldn’t be Ashamed” was a pleasant surprise from debut album “A.M” and “She’s A Jar” was a dark delight (the line “She begs me not to hit her” still chills), albeit with Jeff Tweedy’s harmonica squealing unbearably at times.

Tweedy remains amongst rock’s great frontmen and finest raconteurs. 40 years young, he now leads this band with a zest and enthusiasm of an 18, nay, 16 year old. He thrives on the combined energy of his band mates and the audience, his imperfect voice full of character and impressive range. The banter in between songs was humorous and genial while boisterous sing-alongs during “California Stars” and the harmonies of “Summer Teeth” contributed to the glowing feel-good atmosphere. At times, however, things got very dark indeed. “Via Chicago” is probably my favourite Wilco song (best opening lines ever: “I dreamed about killing you again last night, and it felt alright to me“). A Lynch-esque murder ballad from the classic album “Summer Teeth”, I was hoping it would get a run and would not be disappointed. Commencing acoustically and subdued, the song tensed and tightened until crashing into violent deconstruction. The band exploded as the light show erupted like the fireworks display the song describes, raining down all around us. Glenn Kotche became truly possessed on drums, John Stirrat pounded away on bass while Mike, Pat and Nels conjured an otherworldly sonic storm. Tweedy remained solitary front of stage throughout, strumming the songs gentle refrain amidst the bedlam surrounding him. Disarming and awe inspiring, Wilco took this already amazing song to exhilaratingly new and cosmic places.

Other high points (not that were any low points) were “Shot in the Arm”, “Handshake Drugs”, “Pot Kettle Black” and the epic “Spiders(Kidsmoke)”, the latter seeing the band pogoing around the stage and squeezing every last ounce of ecstasy from this incredible song. The encore was almost too much fun, Wilco demonstrating they are still one of the best straight shooting rock bands on the planet. The brace of “Hate it Here”, “Red Eyed and Blue” and the terrific “I Got You(at the end of the century)” hit right between the eyes; the band, the crowd and the creaking Palace heaving and perspiring as one. “Casino Queen”, “Outta Site(outtamind)” and “I’m A Wheel” made for a crowd pleasing, frenetic conclusion that really sent the meter off the dial. They left the stage to a hysterical ovation, a delirious fervor. As if to ease us down from these stratospheric heights, they returned for a hushed rendition of “The Lonely One”, Tweedy’s ode to rock fandom. A warm and fitting finale-the affection between fan and performer tangible throughout the evening. We bid a reluctant adieu, Wilco drawing to a close the final show of a lengthy world tour and leaving nothing in the tank. There was no throwing in of the towel, nothing half hearted about it-every song was a bonafide knockout. It was a dream show that left me spinning and punch drunk, a show which reaffirmed Wilco’s standing in rock ‘n roll. Still undefeated, still The Greatest.

Post Script

A gig like this deserves special treatment. Here’s the poster from the night, again from local designer Ken Taylor:

Man I should put, like, my favourtie poster up every month. There’s an idea. Photos from the gig here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/blackshadowphotos/sets/72157604268121288/

http://adriancarmody.carbonmade.com/projects/2038794

http://adriancarmody.carbonmade.com/projects/2038963#1

Here’s a few Wilco shows for streaming:

http://wilcoworld.net/roadcase/index.php

..a few video clips:

“Impossible Germany” on Austin City Limits

…and the setlist:

misunderstood

reservations

company in my back

sunken treasure

you are my face

side with the seeds

shouldn’t be ashamed

handshake drugs

shot in the arm

how to fight loneliness

impossible germany

she’s a jar

summerteeth

pot kettle black

via chicago

jesus etc

spiders(kidsmoke)

Encore 1

california stars

walken

i’m the man who loves you

passenger side

hate it here

red eyed and blue

i got you (at the end of the century)

casino queen

outtasite (outta mind)

i’m a wheel

Encore 2

lonely 1