It’s hard to tell who does impeccable, powerful rock better: Laura Jean or Adalita. Needless to say, the two acts were a perfect fit together at the Corner last Sunday night. Laura Jean’s raw-nerve, wild balladry flowed seamlessly into the headliner’s commanding set, creating a perfect storm of unique Australian music.
When first arriving on the stage and engaging the crowd with a little banter, it was tempting to presume that Laura Jean was a little shy. After listening to her sing, however, any such presumptions quickly dissipated. From intensely personal reflections to no-holds-barred political anthems, everything was on the table for her lyrical material.
Her opener was electrifying, discordant and syncopated. She adapted her eerie, orchestral voice to a sophisticated range of songwriting styles: tracks like ‘Missing You’ were breathtakingly simple, an outpouring of honest emotion set against a few chords – while at other times she was as literate as Joni Mitchell at her most poetic
“I saw an angel, it was probably the methadone/but I’ve never felt to close to God all the same,” is just one example of the confrontingly frank lyricism this artist excels at.
Her music is obviously cathartic, which when performed live, makes it that much more intimate and rewarding for the audience.
She closed her set with ‘Australia,’ an angry protest song defending asylum seekers. Every word was enunciated with a controlled, brittle edge – especially the chorus, which was more or less screamed. Then she finished the song, put down her guitar, and walked off the stage without another word.
Adalita began with little fanfare, diving straight into a couple of vicious chords.
Her voice is magnetic, sounding simultaneously approachable, and loaded with superstar power. It’s pure and earthy, but at the same time heavy with experience. Firstly as the frontwoman of Magic Dirt, and now on her own, she has a voice that hypnotises.
This, when coupled with her entrancingly gritty guitar work and the crisp rhythm of her band, makes her a force to be reckoned with.
All Day Venus – the album that she was launching – is a step in a different direction from her self-titled debut. The latter was a minimalist reflection on the tragic loss of Magic Dirt bandmate Dean Turner. This offering hasn’t lost any of her vulnerability and strength, but it’s a lot noisier. Judging from the reaction of the crowd on Sunday, Adalita is only going from strength to strength.
Her songwriting is demanding and masterful. ‘He Wrote’ is inexpressibly sad, while ‘My Ego’ is more upbeat, stuck through with careening guitar.
Her stage banter, on the other hand, is true blue as can be. While it was rare (she barely said anything except to introduce her band and mention All Day Venus,) when she did speak it wasn’t hard to guess at her Geelong roots. “Good on ya! You fuckin’ rule!” she congratulated the crowd.
Despite her status as a veteran of Australian rock, there’s something about Adalita that feels like the underdog. Her songs are full of resilience and determination, reverberating through the steely guitar lines and emotional lyrical material.
She’s angry and bruised; in the way that it makes her listeners feel like it’s okay to be angry and bruised.
