Another week, another
disappointingly quiet night at the Harp Hotel in Wollongong. The venue
has done so much in terms of getting great live acts to the city, it
seems unfair that packing the place out is some kind of freak
occurrence. Still, it wasn’t as if there was any incentive to stick
around - initially, at least.
Crash Tragic were up first, doing their
whole earnest pop-punk thing to its sickeningly dull core. Not even the
kind of pop-punk you can get away with as a guilty pleasure, either -
the kind you stopped liking around the ninth grade. As every song bled
like the wrists of Jessi Slaughter into one another, their samey,
occasionally tuneless ways were beginning to get on near everyone’s
nerves. Crash Tragic are the ultimate friend-rock band - the kind of
band whose mates will turn up, pat them on the back for a “great set”
and shout them a beer, but know deep down in their heart of hearts that
they’re really kind of shithouse.
While we’re on the topic of shithouse
bands, The Art didn’t make things a great deal better. The pretentious
Sydneysiders slunk onto stage from the corner of the room they’d been
miserably sculling beers from, and made short work of making practically
everyone around as apathetic and gloomy as they looked, felt and sounded. Put it this way - the
most remarkable thing about their woeful drone of a set was seeing their
mild-mannered drummer take off his turtleneck sweater to reveal an
entire front-and-back frame of tattoos. Made him a little less mild-mannered, for sure. Didn’t
make the music any less mild, though. Former Popstars finalist Azaria Byrne was doing his
Jim Morrison-idolising schtick up the front, mumbling some rubbish
about death and destruction as watered-down JAMC worship hummed steadily
beneath said mumbles. Who buys this garbage? Whereas Crash Tragic are a friend-rock band, The
Art seem to be more of a “friends in high places” band: along with this
tour, this year they’ve opened for Them Crooked Vultures and the Pixies,
as well as securing the upcoming support slot for 30 Seconds To Mars. It
certainly hasn’t been because of their talents - The Art make
self-indulgent dross, and the only people you’ll hear anyone talking
about them will be pissed-off punters ranting about that shit band who
supported [insert band here] that one time.
All it took was one
sweet, punchy, three-minute slice of indie pop utopia and tonight’s
headliners The Boat People suddenly made everything better. The song was
“Under The Ocean”, the track that opens the band’s new album Dear
Darkly. Replete with hooks, sweet vocal melodies and an almost
unforgettable chord progression, it was the first hopeful moment of the
evening - and, almost miraculously, things stayed just as enjoyable from
there.
The album sees the band expanding on their already-established
and multi-faceted sound (the incredibly catchy “Damn Defensive” and
“Cat’s Collar” immediately spring to mind), as well as touching on
previously untouched musical territory (the Talking Heads-esque “Echo
Stick Guitars” was a great example of this). It was a treat to hear all
these exciting new tracks live - even if it did mean leaving out older
favourites such as “Tell Someone Who Cares”, “Clean” and “Unsettle My
Heart” from the all-too-short setlist. Still, as bassist/frontman James
O’Brien reasoned to us, “you’ve heard all the old stuff anyway!” The two
singles from 2008’s Chandeliers, “Born in the 80s” and “Awkward Orchid Orchard”, were as
retrospective as the night got. Still, considering how good the future
was looking for the band, there didn’t seem too much point in craning
their necks too badly to look back.
Despite notably bad choices of
support act, The Boat People made tonight’s gig worth leaving the house
for.