There really is a lot to love about Melbourne, especially during Melbourne Music Week.
Gathering some of the finest local and international acts in various established and pop-up venues around the city, the week is the perfect antidote to the current doom and gloom surrounding Melbourne’s live music scene.
It’s a defiant two-fingered salute to the powers that be and proposed venue acquisitions, ridiculous security requirements, bankruptcies, and other difficulties that have let the local music scene down – but not defeated.
There’s certainly a jubilant, devil-may-care attitude about the crowd trickling into tonight’s Singhala Music’s Melbourne Music Revue. The evening is an excellently curated assembly of local groups that hail from either Melbourne or the nearby surf coast, a common thread that further fosters the warm and fuzzy feeling of community and camaraderie.
Another common link between tonight’s groups is the shared love of all sounds retro. It’s a vintage-flavoured affair, with 60s guitar pop, swirling psychadelia, jangling surf rock, and stomping blues all on offer over the course of the show.
Earlier acts on tonight’s bill included Fraser A Gorman and Courtney Barnett, Baptism Of Uzi, and The Frowning Clouds, each taking their turn to be ensconced within the love bubble that is the white dome of The Residence, the fun pop-up venue purpose built for Melbourne Music Week.
True to their name, the sweet vocal harmonies of Harmony fill the dome, the angelic voices of Amanda Roff, Quinn Veldhuis, and Maria Kastaniotis perfectly illuminating the rocking, rolling sound of the band.
Combined with frontman Tom Lyngcoln’s gravelly screams and the swelling, thundering interplay of bass and drums, it’s a moving, blues/gospel opera not dissimilar in style to some of Pink Floyd’s more operatic tunes.
The “shindig”, as Ambrose Kenny-Smith labels it, is off to an excellent start by the time The Murlocs take the stage.
Since the group’s promising slot at Meredith Music Festival last year, frontman Kenny-Smith has certainly grown in confidence. He commands the stage with both his distinctive voice and his irreverent between-song banter (including leading an impromptu chorus of ‘Backstreet’s Back’).
The band drive through a cracking set filled with warbling harmonica, powering drumbeat, and lonesome, mournful guitar notes.
‘Gutless’ is swampy, swaggering, and bass-heavy, and ‘Rattle The Chain’ is a sublime slice of old school Australiana rock.
The group’s new single ‘Space Cadet’ is particularly well received by the crowd. The upbeat, 60s-pop style and cheerfully ambling bass line is a slight change of tack from their more bluesy rock numbers, proving that the group is not just a one trick pony.
The good times just keep on rolling as The Murlocs cede their place to Dan Kelly’s Dream Band and their jaunty keys, rolling drums, and “do-do-do” harmonies.
‘Baby Bonus’ is a galloping, handclapping romp that puts a smile on every face in the dome.
When Kelly croons his way through the buoyant, country-twanging track ‘The Catholic Leader’, it’s impossible to miss the similarity between his vocal style and that of his famous uncle, Paul Kelly.
True to the mood of fraternity that is in the air, Uncle Paul unassumingly makes an appearance in the crowd in support of his nephew and to the delight of the many fans who have spotted him.
Amid all the fun, the group strip back to drums, keys, and guitar to perform ‘On The Run’, which Dan Kelly introduces as their attempt at “nasally Kraut rock”. It’s a fabulous, moody jam that shows that the band’s real talents may lie in exploring their more serious side.
Before the evening’s final act, King Gizzard And The Lizard Wizard, things get a little trippy with the Robin Fox Laser Show.
The audience is drawn to the miasma of sonic vibrations that tremble from your feet to your chest and manifest as strobing green laser lights. It’s hallucinogenic fun and enhances the festival atmosphere.
But the Revue belongs to King Gizzard, who waste no time launching into the combined power emanating from their two drummers and two bass players, creating a freight train of sound that motors through the room.
Despite the midnight hour creeping past on a school night, the loyal crowd stay put for King Gizzard’s smoky, shimmering jams. There’s frenetic, distorted guitar, hair shaking, and high stepping as the group harness the merry energy of the evening and mold it into a superb kaleidoscopic garage rock-out.
It’s an exuberant end to what has been an excellent showcase of talented local musicians and proof that Melbourne’s live music scene is pumping, fighting, and will never say die.
