A Sunday night gig is always a tricky proposition.
The exception, of course, is a Sunday before a public holiday – but this festival sideshow is facing the obstacle of coming after the Christmas season, landing on the night before most head back to work for 2014.
Many “make an exception” to see the co-headline American bill, as LA’s Hanni El Khatib – one half of the dual line-up – points out during his closing headline slot; “I wouldn’t come out on a Sunday.”
Joining the Palestinian/Filipino firebrand to coax punters to the Corner Hotel is another band also in the country for the Falls & Southbound Festival line-ups: Texan quartet White Denim.
Pairing the rockabilly soul and crunchy punk of Hanni El Khatib and his no-nonsense backing with the Southern fried licks and jam band synergy of White Denim is a great match…in theory that is, and would be in action if it wasn’t for the running order of the night.
Though the problem isn’t with the opening support band, Money For Rope.
Arriving fresh from taking the New Year’s countdown honours at the inaugural boutique music festival NYE On The Hill, the dual-drumming sextet are in whip-tight form.
Their half-hour show once again proves why they are one of Melbourne’s most reliable live acts with a set that will likely swell the ranks of their fanbase, highlighted by their charmingly brogue stalwart ‘Ten Times’.
Next on the running order is White Denim, who are – quite simply – terrific.
Attempting to squeeze enough of their six album strong discography into a paltry 45-minute set is a thankless task, but they make the most of every moment.
The four-piece open with ‘Corsicana Lemonade’, the title track from their latest LP, which harnesses their jam band origins into stronger song structures without forsaking their sinewy energy and freewheeling workouts.
Embanked behind a sprawling carpet of FX pedals, frontman James Patralli’s boyish, cowlicked-framed face isn’t getting sweatier with soul-charged howling – instead, it’s grimacing into joyful contortions from his band’s thunderous technical skill.
Centre stage and as focussed as a zen monk on his Rickenbacker is bassist Steve Terebecki, while flanking stage right is the fancy fretwork of Austin Jenkins (which is conceivably a stage name for someone in a Texan band) giving his spider-handed best on his Gibson Les Paul.
Combined, they play almost as if constantly soloing – especially the rubber jazz meets Animal from The Muppets style of drummer Joshua Block – but work their virtuoso patterns into a singular whole. They showcase this to dazzling effect on the cooked blues of ‘Come Back’ and instrumental showpiece, ‘At The Farm’.
At times, the duelling guitars, Southern fried licks, and tricky time signatures peg them as the missing 70s link between accomplished prog Brits and The Allman Brothers Band.
Nearly every cut, from the jerky Thin Lizzy-isms of ‘At Night In Dreams’ to the looming Zappa shadow hovering over the off-kilter jamboree of their closing number, fizzes with the influence of classic rock masters.
At just seven years old, White Denim play with a mastery that few bands under a decade old rarely possess, let alone harness, at such a fledgling age.
The house music that marks the end of their too-short appearance fails to drown out the howls of appreciation from a crowd that has clearly witnessed a headline-worthy set. ‘Gig Of The Year’ nomination whispers follow.
Their brilliance clearly highlights the mistake of placing them ahead of Hanni El Khatib.
It’s quite an upstaging – there’s no mass exodus at the 10pm switchover (and only a slight dip in atmosphere) – but considering White Denim’s larger catalogue to draw from, along with the firework skill to set their songs alight on stage, it seems misguidedly cruel to task El Khatib to follow.
The singer-songwriter looks like the rockabilly love child of Colin Farrell and Ron Livingston with his tattooed sleeves and fiercely intense stare. His greaser noir rock sound the part too, but things start slowly in bare-bones, four-chord rock territory.
The vocal hiccups and hollers of ‘Dead Wrong’ kick things up a gear while a cover of The Cramps’ ‘Human Fly’ introduces the set’s first authentic sense of danger, despite five songs of stolen money and guns already passing by.
The essential minimalism of ‘You Rascal You’ follows and gets things on course, showing that the swaggering simplicity of the 31-year-old’s songcraft has a core strength.
There’s a knack for unaffected hooks, such as the catchy little chunk o’ change that is ‘Penny’, and his nasty brand of blues has a blunt appeal akin to The Black Keys’ early work (which even saw Dan Auerbach producing his Head In The Dirt LP), but occasionally risks relying on overly familiar habits, just like his stage persona.
There’s several haggard “how ya doin’s?” that punctuate the set, as well as stop-start chords left to hang in the air. More effective during the fits of ‘Loved One’, where El Khatib gives an energy boost (as much for himself) by hopping into the crowd to be jostled about.
The closing punch of ‘Fuck It, You Win’ is a definite highlight, but its defeatist title takes on an ironic shade as punters begin to trickle out of the venue to make their respective bedtimes.
By the time El Khatib returns for an encore of ‘House On Fire’ it’s hard to shake the feeling that this Sunday serving of rock would have been better dished up if it wasn’t the first ‘school night’ of the year – or if (bias pending) White Denim hadn’t had to warm up for a headline act they sheerly out-skilled and out-matched.
