It just makes sense for All Tomorrow’s Parties and Halloween to go together.
Both are occasions for the weird and wonderful people of this world to be on show. People like the woman at ATP wearing a purple fairy costume, the one with the foot-high dark black Mohawk, and the general prevalence of music devotees in all black; as well as, of course, the kind of musicians that this festival naturally draws to its line up.
Pop Crimes performed a tribute to the late Australian songwriter Roland S Howard, playing some of the standouts in his impressive repertoire. His writing isn’t necessarily the easiest to approach – but they treated the great man’s body of work with skilled musicianship and well-deserved respect.
Howard was a master at capturing the idea of beauty in dark places. His music is dark and lush, composed of layers of noisy guitar and deliciously creepy piano, underscoring lyrics that are both poetic and sneering. It is gothic and twisted, but also oddly hopeful – the epitome of romantic tragedy.
Pop Crimes’ revolving line up more than did these powerful songs justice. We were treated to a melange of guitarists, violinists, bassists, and vocalists of both genders walking on and off the stage to join in.
Assembled by Mick Harvey, who played with Howard in the Birthday Party, this was a talented group of friends and fans, including Howard’s girlfriend and band mate Genevieve McGuckin behind the keys.
The mixed group made for an intriguing variety in their interpretations of one of Australia’s most underrated songwriters.
Television were one of the main drawcards to All Tomorrow’s Parties – and for good reason. Tom Verlaine and his bandmates were pioneers of the New York punk scene, developing a weird, melancholy artistry that was both influential and critically acclaimed.
Sadly, however, their hearts just didn’t seem into it on Saturday.
They played their classic album Marquee Moon like it was a rehearsal; lacking in energy, and even out of time in parts.
Verlaine’s vocals sounded strained, barely filing the cavernous space of the Palais, and – especially compared to the deafening levels of some of their successors – the sound was turned right down.
It was only towards the end during the album’s closer and titular song that the band’s iconic status became apparent. Verlaine and guitarist Jimmy Rip (who replaced original guitarist Richard Lloyd) showcased Television’s infamous interlocking guitar parts, spinning off into a lengthy and wild instrumental that culminated in a spectacular crescendo.
It was a satisfying finish to what was an otherwise lacklustre set.
The Scientists, on the other hand, had energy in spades.
They opened with Kim Salmon’s maniacal scream and a take-no-prisoners riff; a promising start to a high-powered set.
Salmon twitched like a mental patient in a ‘70s horror movie, gripping the mic and letting loose with his half-screeched, half-sung vocals. The ‘Mad Scientists’ would perhaps be a more appropriate name for this trio.
Relentless and tight drumming drove a set that – while defined by the menacing, sludgy guitar played throughout – had enough originality to keep things interesting.
There was even a suggestion of surfer rock on ‘We Had Love,’ if surfer rock had a heroin addiction and an anger management problem. Punchy lyrics like “be my fire escape,” and Salmon’s tendency to suddenly stop his raw yelling and deliver a couple of lines in a suggestive drawl instead kept the audience on their toes.
It was a curiosity even watching the perfectly named Fuck Buttons set up. Why is the screen coming back down? Why do they need so many cords plugged in? Is that a giant disco ball?
As it turned out, the Bristol duo is like nothing else you’ve ever seen.
They opened with what sounded like a ghost being sucked into a portal, playing eerily over an industrial beat, tranquil singing, and an epileptic light show.
The electronic wunderkinds produced a complete sensory assault. The hallucinogenic visuals on the AV screen were coupled with auditory effects from all over the spectrum: the highest and lowest possible pitches, the cleanest and dirtiest possible sounds, all played simultaneously, but at the same time bizarrely cohesive.
Refreshing flows of synth streamed into a hollow, wood-mimicking rhythm. Clashing, heavy beats started and stopped, complementing deafening static and jarring dubstep; all delivered with a masterful sense of pacing.
This is when the lack of standing room at the Palais was felt most keenly. As incredible as their show was, it only seemed right to enjoy it dehydrated and dripping in sweat, being thrown up against strangers.
They simulated a total loss of control; a purposeful chaos that was both fascinating, and a little bit scary.
In sharp contrast to the terror of Fuck Buttons, Kim Deal was radiating warmth from the moment she stepped on stage.
It’s a rare quality to find a band that seems genuinely excited to be performing after two decades in the business, but the Breeders – Kim Deal, Kelley Deal, Josephine Wiggs, Jim Macpherson, and Carrie Bradley – seemed sincerely happy to be there.
Kim even claimed to be nervous – “I think I can look up now,” she laughed at one point.
They were there to perform their most well-known album, 1993’s Last Splash, and this they did with remarkable dedication. Sitting in front of the drum kit were the wind chimes they used in the original recording, brought “all the way from Ohio,” according to Kim.
Bassist Josephine and drummer Jim even swapped instruments for ‘Roi,’ since that’s the way they did it in the studio.
It didn’t sound dated or tired however. Twenty years after the album debuted, Last Splash still has a freshness and vitality that will ensure it keeps its hallowed place in music history.
There’s the bass-and-guitar intro to ‘Cannonball’, unmistakeable and irresistible. There’s the sweet sentimentality of ‘Drivin’ on 9.’ There’s the frankness of ‘I Just Want to Get Along,’ sung by Kelley Deal, and the chills-inducing opening of ‘No Aloha’ – all performed to blissful perfection on Saturday.
All the ingredients were there to make the night into a special experience for those in attendance: All Tomorrow’s Parties is a unique festival, Last Splash is a great album, and the Breeders are an incredible band.
