It might be a bit of an understatement to say that the shadow of You Am I always seems to linger over Davey Lane. Especially when mid-way through Lane’s solo set in the Tote bandroom, Tim Rogers appears from out of nowhere to join Lane on-stage and belt out a rousing rendition of “Hit The City”.
But Lane, who has held the lead-guitarist mantle with You Am I for over a decade, is an accomplished singer-songwriter in his own right.
Tonight’s Tote gig comes in support of the launch of the musician’s debut solo EP, The Good Borne Of Bad Tymes, a five track record steeped in psychedelic pop rock.
Lane’s band – an outrageously moustachioed drummer, and a bass player and keyboard player who both look as though they’re not yet out of high school – form a motley-looking picture onstage. Though he has previously fronted retro-pop outfit The Pictures, tonight Lane seems a slightly hesitant frontman, and it takes the group a few songs before they find their rhythm.
A broken guitar string moments into the second song of the set, the spacey ballad “Sinking May”, doesn’t help the proceedings, although Lane is not deterred, playing on through the haze of delayed keyboard. His distinctive, emotive voice is a pleasure to hear and it seems a shame that for most of his career with You Am I his vocals have been under-utilised.
“Ronnie And My Baby” has Lane looking and sounding like a cropped-haired Liam Gallagher; in a green army jacket he spits out lyrics amidst the choppy guitar and gun fire drums.
The organ-like effects from the keys and a spiralling guitar solo take the audience on a psychedelic trip through “Comfortably Dumb”. It is perhaps one of the weaker tracks on the recently released EP, but Lane and co manage to flesh it into an exotic beast onstage.
The band then exits the stage as Lane “subjects” us, in his own words, to a couple of slower songs. There’s a struggle with the sound mix, with Lane’s vocals turned up way too loud, making this down-tempo song sound jarring. The reverb-heavy guitar is intoxicating though in Lane’s skilful hands, and he creates a dreamy soundscape that envelopes the audience.
A ukulele, or “baby guitar, a guitar for babies”, as Lane jokes, is his next weapon of choice, although it makes for a fairly dull acoustic strum-along. It’s an unnecessary interlude and an unfortunate stumbling block as the audience’s attention starts to wane.
Luckily the accelerating chords of the 70s styled “Miners Lament” return the energy to the room, and the track that follows turns up the heat even further; a maelstrom of thrashing drumbeats and the squalling notes of Lane’s amazingly electrifying playing.
Saving the best for (almost) last, the second-last song of the night is “You’re The Cops, I’m The Crime”, a sublimely sonic masterpiece that melds the cosmic psychedelic rock of Lane’s guitar with spacey, electro keyboard melodies and moody bass lines. It’s a beautiful, ominous opus, delivered with an intensity that sets hearts racing.
A new song, “Last Of The Freakazoids”, full of crashing, descending keys and slamming drums, closes out the set. It has been a fledgling performance, with a few hesitant missteps, but Lane’s remarkable musicianship and talent for crafting eclectic pop rock gems will surely have enough power to get his solo career off the ground.
