This review must start by highlighting how truly wonderful St Kilda’s Pure Pop Records is.
The tiny hole in the wall record store/cafe/live venue is a one of a kind and currently struggling against the landed gentry (neighbours who mystifyingly moved to St Kilda for peace and quiet) trying to stop gigs in their courtyard (you can help though, by investigating their ‘Buy A Brick’ program).
The Pure Pop courtyard is drenched in late afternoon sun and every bench, stool, and cushion-covered keg is claimed by punters enjoying the spring weather. A man comes over and congratulates another for wearing a matching Radiohead t-shirt, purchased from their concert the night before, and the two begin to dissect the show.
Blessedly, Crooked Saint’s Tim Wheatley appears onstage and the urge to block one’s ears while saying ‘la, la ,la’ to drown out the Radiohead fans disappears.
Performing in solo mode, Wheatley begins with “Outta Sight, Outta Mind” which he explains was based on advice from his dad. A nice little tune and a strong start from the singer.
Somewhat unexpectedly, he goes into complete ‘Bitter Betty’ mode. Introducing “Every Angry Inch” he says, “this song is about the singer of my last band who is a real prick” before adding sarcastically, “he is playing here next month, check him out.”
All of a sudden the stage seems a little too small for both the singer and his ego. Outbursts of this nature are best kept between rockstars, or at least on Facebook.
“The Cast Of Yesterday” is a pleasant enough tune about the here today, gone tomorrow friendships forged while travelling overseas, which Wheatley has done a lot, as he keeps referring back to it at every opportunity.
The small courtyard nods along happily and “Lazy Bones” is genuinely very catchy. Wheatley’s music meanders happily along between rock, country, blues and folk.
The same can’t be said for “Gatwick Hotel” which Wheatley declares is “a place I would never want to stay.” Written for the infamous St Kilda hotel of the same name, the raspy voiced singer seems about as genuine as Bono pleading for an end to world hunger and going home to a mansion.
Fortunately a gorgeous cover of Levon Helm’s “The Weight” redeems the singer just enough before he inexplicably goes on a break about six songs into his set.
Lengthy break over, Wheatley returns with a slightly stronger second half to his show and he is chuffed when his grandparents arrive. “The Man In Waiting”, “Come Back Kid” and “Hot And Heavy” all hit the right notes and he even endears himself a little when he goes to count his band in before remembering that he is playing a solo show.
In all, Wheatley is a fair musician and vocalist. That being said, there are a good number of male singer/songwriters (Will Wagner, Ben Salter, Mike Noga – to name just a few) that do exactly the same thing, only with unmistakeable charm and a good dose of self-deprecating humour.
Perhaps it is nerves, perhaps it is the fish out of water experience of performing without his backing band, but Wheatley comes across as smug and not just a little arrogant.
He will undoubtedly sell a bunch of records, why wouldn’t he? He is good looking and talented enough but ultimately nothing new or special. Crooked Saint is competent enough but there is better out there.
