Without a doubt, Bradford Cox is one hell of an entertaining frontman.
The Deerhunter lead singer and guitarist has held court over the audience at Melbourne’s Hi-Fi bar for two hours, hexing them in a vice-like grip that belies his fragile figure.
There’s the obvious proficiency with which he plays, and the faultless timbre of his voice, which undulates seamlessly between the richly resonant – as during the perfectly played ‘Desire Lines’ – and ethereally vulnerable.
But tonight, it’s impossible not be gripped by Cox’s between-song antics that catapult schizophrenically between obnoxious, humble, and hilarious.
Especially when he pauses on stage to whip out his mobile phone and call his mother.
“What the fuck is all that shit,” he baits the audience, who dare to chatter mid-song. “I am the show! Call your mothers right now,” he orders, before changing his mind and pulling out his own phone.
Perhaps fortunately for his mother, the call goes to voicemail, where Cox proceeds to leave a message. “I’m calling you from Melbourne tonight,” he chortles, “I hope you’re feeling better, I’ll be home soon. Sincerely, Brad.” Cue a room full of incredulous laughter.
It’s one of the odder things to happen on stage, and Cox’s behaviour goes on to unfurl in truly intoxicating fashion, veering manically from bewitching to belligerent.
“It’s great to be back in Melbourne, the most punk of all the Australian cities,” he announces as the group take the stage, but the initially muted response from the audience needles him to a wry observation, “you guys seem bored…like you’ve spent $60 to sit around and talk about…art.”
His mood takes a further turn in response to one audience member’s ill-advised heckling (“get over yourself”, he snipes at the offending patron).
Just when it feels as though things could get ugly, Cox whips mercurially to good humour. “Just shut up and be polite, and I’ll tell you something,” he begins, before breaking off into a burst of laughter.
Cox’s kamikaze humour fortunately rubs off on his band mates. In between songs, they throw around a few raw lines of ‘Jingle Bells’ and a cheeky Nirvana riff during a tune-up.
For all of Cox’s unhinged posturing, the group’s material is delivered with brilliant, concentrated proficiency.
The lion’s share of the set comes from their 2010 consummate offering, Halcyon Digest. ‘Earthquake’, the first track from the album, also opens tonight’s set. It’s a dreamy concoction full of glittering, iridescent guitar and shimmering hi-hat.
“Don’t Cry” crackles with jangly guitar notes and Cox’s echo-soaked vocals, while Moses Archuleta’s polished drumming charges ‘Revival’ with matchless energy.
The audience is also treated to a sizeable slice of the band’s new record Monomania.
‘Back To The Middle’ and ‘Neon Junkyard’ are melodic, upbeat tracks that take the audience by the hand and spin them around the room.
The garage-esque title track ‘Monomania’ is a darker turn, crashing and slinking through a maze of gritty guitar notes and Cox’s impassioned vocals.
The band’s earlier albums are not forgotten either, and ‘Agoraphobia’ from the 2008 record Microcastle is particularly well-received by the crowd.
Halcyon Digest resurfaces at the show’s end, with an enveloping, intoxicating version of ‘Helicopter’ ending what has been a chaotic, captivating spectacle.
“I think that’s good. I think we’ve played enough, we’ve played for like two hours,” Cox announces with satisfaction at the end of the evening.
Take it from the man himself – Deerhunter certainly know how to put on a damn good show.
