You know that scene in High Fidelity when John Cusacks’ hopeless romantic elitist Rob falls head over heels with the incomparably cool Lisa Bonet’s Marie De Salle at a gig?
This was pretty much the Nick Hornby complex that the stuffed Prince Bandroom audience, women included (perhaps especially), found themselves with while witnessing Solange Knowles’ debut Aussie headline performance.
Displaying sheer charisma from the moment the dry snap grooves of the six-piece band ushered her to the stage on ‘Don’t Let Me Down’, she immediately began infecting the adoring crowd with her enthusiasm.
The singer leaned her mic into the clamouring front rows, suffering the speaker feedback to entice, before whipping her weaved curtain of knee-length dreads across her leopard print skirt to move her focus to another section of the audience.
The performer oozes capability and confidence, and the room responds through deafening screams of appreciation.
Partial credit, however, should be given to the lovely bit of mood-setting from opening act (and recent Modular signees), Movement.
Their half-hour set doesn’t shift much above a leisured mix of throbbing subwoofery and RnB-tinged electronica calculated for de-robing and slow grinding. But if the audience were more familiar with the Sydney trio’s material, they might just have obliged.
The band’s greatest strength is singer Lewis Wade. His oversized teddy frame houses a soothing, expressive voice that aims for seduction via swooping melismatic phrasing and some stylised hand gestures.
A DJ slot from Midnight Juggernauts also bookends the concert, which keeps the audience as warmed as the venue’s apparent deliberate lack of cooling (drink up, punters).
The light disco and funk soundtrack keeps things ticking along, even squeezing in a cheeky round of Blood Orange, aka Devonté Hynes – the key collaborator behind Solange’s 2012 mini-LP True.
It’s the seven deep cut grooves of that release that form the backbone of Solange’s live show, and Hynes’ restrained approach to minimalist funk proves to translate brilliantly to the live setting.
The 80s-charged whip of slap bass and spare harmonies shine on the curvaceous ‘Bad Girls’ and the chugging ‘Some Things Never Seem To Fucking Work’, bringing to mind vintage pop characters like Billy Ocean or Michael Jackson – complete with some staged choreography from the stylish backing band.
As much as Hynes’ fingerprints (or the pair’s recent public fall-out) are impossible to ignore, the show belongs to Solange.
Body-rolling and sashaying between her equally slinky singing, it’s clear she’s inherited a few lithe moves from the family playbook. But it’s not just the moves – she’s got the banter down pat too, proving her charisma in her chatter between songs as much as during them.
She gives a shout-out to ol’ mates Midnight Juggernauts, points out her shared excitement with the “Twitterverse”, and, in a casual moment of disarming sincerity, admits her “mushiness” is due being on her period. (It was class not crass, trust me.)
Her musical mob are also able to better flex their muscle away from the True material, beefing the setlist with cuts from 2008’s Sol-Angel And The Hadley St. Dreams.
Namely, the Motown-shaded soul funk of ‘T.O.N.Y.’ and ‘Cosmic Journey’, a slower, less eventful ballad that allows Solange to dazzle with her diva-worthy vocal range (and wisely annexing its aimless second half).
There’s also room for two live debuts – the rare B-Side ‘Sleep In The Park’ and the spare histrionics of ‘Cash In’, taken from Solange’s compilation Saint Heron.
Her rendition of Dirty Projectors’ ‘Stillness Is The Move’, sampled by Dr. Dre, best displays her yet-to-be-exploited crossover appeal, marrying whooping vocal acrobatics – perfectly suited to her voice – with a grinding G-funk back-end.
The evening’s zenith, however, arrives in the killer turns of ‘Lovers In The Parking Lot’ and ‘Losing You’. While each displays a deeper significance in their anxious, downcast lyrics, their pathos doesn’t weigh down on their instant pop euphoria and upbeat accessibility.
Closing with the perky (heck, borderline fluffy) ‘Sandcastle Disco’ and its buoyant sing-along chorus, there’s an instrumental vamp while Solange sweetly shakes hands and thanks her smitten fans.
As the rapture fades, the impression is that the younger Knowles is much more than a mere ‘hipsteriffic’ Beyoncé.
To paraphrase that pivotal post-coital moment in High Fidelity: “How could this happen, you ask? How does she do it?”
Well, because Solange doesn’t thrive in the shadow of her sister’s legacy, she’s slowly outgrowing it and into the shapely fit of a unique talent. She’s got one heel planted in well-pitched throwback territory, and the other striding forward towards a new breed of alternative pop star.
Setlist
Don’t Let Me Down
Some Things Never Seem To Fucking Work
Bad Girls
T.O.N.Y.
Cash In
Locked In Closets
Sleep In the Park
Lovers In The Parking Lot
Losing You
Cosmic Journey
Stillness Is The Move
Sandcastle Disco
