Apr 17, 2010 (14 years ago) Notes Live Enmore, New South Wales, Australia
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Gareth Liddiard, Notes Live, April 17, 2010
A Drone alone in stripped back mode takes to the stage of Notes Live.
The solo show is an intriguing institution. On the one hand it offers a chance to hear a band’s songs stripped back to their humblest origins with the words merely accompanied by a few strummed chords giving the bare bones of the melody. It also gives an outlet for the pure expression of songs unadulterated by the existing expectations, sounds and structures of their band. The Mess Hall’s most recent album saw them exploring some new terrain away from their trademark raucous blues-infused rock, and by the mostly unheard songs unveiled by their front man Jed Kurzel tonight suggests he’s still got a few tricks up his sleeve. With just a raggedly strummed electric guitar and a loop pedal, Kurzel delved into some dark and honest ballads of fractured families and people gone awry that had the crowd hushed throughout. Fortunately so as Kurzel noted, he had just finished a month and a half touring with The Mess Hall so had put-downs at the ready for any ‘loud wankers’.
When compared to his usual serrated riffing and manic guitar wringing persona in The Drones, Gareth Liddiard is quite unflappably calm and bone dry in his demeanour. Possessing only an acoustic guitar, he laconically introduces proceedings with “I’m going to start with the song I always start with”. Rather than engage with the audiences’ interjections, he dismissively gives an-all request ignoring caveat of “I’m deaf, I’m in the Drones”.
Thankfully, the crowd remain mostly reverential for the set which trawls through some starkly-outlined versions of more sprawling recent Drones epics – including, ‘Jezabel’, ‘Locust’, the shunned Australian history sourced ‘…Alexander Pearce’ while also stripping bare the usually throbbing ‘Shark Fin Blues’ and ‘I Don’t Ever Want to Change’. The un-imbellished voice becomes even more distinct when not buried in noise, with a range that sinks from parched and gamey to rise through to almost nasal-inflections as the raw emotion undulates through the songs. If anything shows the distinctly honed song writing capacity on show and the keen talent Gareth (who hates being referred to as Liddiard, as it’s such an uncool name) has for drawing the interest and wider emotion from the everyday, it is the new song ‘Blondin Makes an Omelette’, which reflects upon the circumstances of a tightrope walker of such talent he could cook an omelette while traversing a wire strewn across Niagara Falls.
Tonight provided a perfect venue for showcasing the unadorned essence of the talents of our more captivating songwriters.
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