Everything was true

With probably the best stage presence I’ve ever witnessed from a solo performer, Paul Dempsey is a talent to be admired. The comfortable, love-worn space of the Troubadour offers intimate seating, which I took full advantage of at the absolute front, knees scraping against the edge of the stage.

Support act, Dan Parsons, although perhaps a bit too Pop-rock for the patient Something for Kate fans, provided some appealing originals on both acoustic and electric guitar. His cover of I Will Follow You into the Dark catered for Death Cab for Cutie listeners, who also contributed vocals, despite an accidental rearrangement of verses, and a mistaken lyric for which my friend almost decked him.

Casually surfacing from behind the bright red theater curtains, musical giant, Paul Dempsey, appeared in tailored pants and jacket, collared orange shirt and scruffy leather shoes. Wielding his trusty acoustic and hand-written set list, he welcomed the field of onlookers. Take Us To Your Leader, a track from the soon-to-be-released record, immediately wooed the crowd, who appeared gushing and enthusiastic with wide smiles like newly-smitten lovers. Dempsey previewed almost every song from the album, with current singles Out the Airlock and Ramona was a Waitress, along with unheard tracks such as Bats, Theme from Nice Guy, and Safety in Numbness.

Of course, he obliged SFK followers, who reveled in the nostalgia of Beautiful Sharks, The Astronaut, Say Something, and personal favourite, Reverse Soundtrack. A plastered and persistent punter was also granted his request for You Only Hide after Paul returned for the encore. During the night, the mellow rocker also paid tribute to his predecessors, covering Elvis Costello’s So Like Candy and Kim Carne’s Bette Davis Eyes. He even threw in an unexpected acoustic take on MGMT’s Time to Pretend, a dark cowlick rolling across his forehead during the final chorus.

In an impressive feat, Paul managed to cater for every type of audience member present at the show. Exiting through the same curtains from which he entered, it was clear that his performance conquered all expectations and fed all curiosities. I left the venue utterly fulfilled and in joyful possession of the night’s set list.

As well as joining the lineup for next month’s Splendour in the Grass festival, Dempsey will be returning to Brisbane later in the year with a so-called “band of brothers” to accompany his solo set. So, make sure you get on board!

Everything is True

I own every album from Elsewhere for 8 Minutes to Desert Lights.
I say, let the fan-girldom ensue.

Even Paul Dempsey got tired of waiting.
Finally, I'll get to check out his solo stuff for the new album next Wednesday night. After all the fuss over recent single, Out the Airlock, and promptly sold-out tickets for his Australian tour, at last I'll get a slice of the pie.

There's just something in the effortless-ness of his vocals, the meticulously-refined thought process behind his lyrics, and the certain 'fruit' present in all of his work. Although I'm not one to usually believe hype, recent coverage of the soon-to-be-released Dempsey project, paired with my aforementioned loyalty to Something for Kate, provides a sense of total certainty.

The Lady in Red

“It’s like a hillbilly party ‘round a fire, isn’t it?” she shouted over the fiery resonance of Goat Boy’s copper cylinder-induced instrumentals. Her raspy, beer-soaked voice ricocheted off the walls as she approached the chorus. The long red dreads gathering on her shoulders made her look like a modern Medusa. Accompanied by Jeff, a guy who dressed like a midnight trucker, but showed he was worthy on a 1950s Dobro, they were like two beautiful stomach bugs that made their way to your insides.

Dallas Frasca is a great independent blues and roots act, and after touring with Xavier Rudd, and collaborating on My Own Eyes, she’s certainly gained a following. Chatting with her and Jeff afterwards at their little merch table made me feel like I’d known her my whole life. I believe I acquired at least three hugs also.

Often compared to Janis Joplin, she can turn on the intensity like a switch, with a voice so strong that you could probably hear every word perfectly without the microphone. She was probably lead vocals in some Neo-Feminist metal band during her high-school years, but then later found her niche and grew dreads.

Her latest album snatches its title from the pumped-up, knee-slappin’ly good Learn Your Routes, which is sure to become a roots anthem at some point in the future. The album also features an intense acapella addition entitled Don’t Let No-One, which she used to closed her recent show at the Troubadour. If you're in the mood for something more sedated, then have a listen to Thirst For Your Love, but either way, be sure to catch all the crazy folk-rock roots business when the duo come back later in the year for another round.

Dallas Frasca and her Gentleman: they’re like the dirty, dried-up scabs that you can’t help picking at.

Domestic 'Violince'

December 14, 2008 was a Sunday that still sticks out in my mind. Partly because it was the night my drummer/emotional-baggage told me he that he didn’t want to be more than friends, but mainly because it was the night I saw Baseball. The Zoo was hosting part of a rescheduled Australian tour for American indie-folk band, The Mountain Goats. Emotional baggage and his two friends reminisced enthusiastically about the band’s previous tour, and I sported my best training-wheels, having only listened to Heretic Pride and other albums as much as physically possible in the past week.

As always, the venue occupied a pleasantly-sized crowd in the dim red surroundings, and after attaining our own piece of floor space and liquid provisions, we eyed-off the empty stage. Now, I know that we were there to pay our respects to The Mountain Goats, and I honestly enjoyed their set. Even if John Darnielle looked like a Sunday-school teacher and had to hand the mic over to the other guy because of his recent bout of tinnitus. True to form, I was fascinated by the support act.

Amidst the sea of self-cut hairstyles and general merriness, the band members introduced themselves to their instruments and prepared to open the show. Then, out of the curtains on side of stage, emerged this disheveled looking creature with a violin. Hurriedly, the lead singer stepped out towards the crowd, looking as if he’d fallen asleep momentarily in the bathtub backstage and had to be woken abruptly by the rest of the band.

When the music started, the microphone was poised above the guy’s head, meaning that every word he sang involved him arching his neck back. Then into it, he’d release these strange lyrics in distraught and raucous shrieks, seemingly directed to some higher power that had wrongly forsaken him in his past. Accompanying the hysteria of his vocals was the absolutely mesmerizing attack he brought upon his violin. To provide an accurate description of the experience is to say that he practically raped classical music, shredding the bow so violently across the surface of the strings that strands of horse hair gradually began to break off and sway fluidly in time with his movements.

Equally as impressive was the drummer, whose skill for artfully hitting things was only matched by her awesome backing vocals. You see, I’m always heartily impressed by wild and vivacious female rockers – and this usually involves guitarists, or as I like to say, ‘chicks-with-picks’ – but I’ve gained a new appreciation for ‘chicks-with-sticks’ ever since witnessing a local I Heart Hiroshima gig. After watching Baseball, Evelyn Morris was decidedly another drummer to add to the list.

Animal Kingdom is the band’s debut album. Released early last year, it boasts fourteen zany and infectious tracks that you’ll want to sew into a quilt and fall unconscious in. So go get it! You know you want to. Melbourne-grown four-piece, Baseball, is a perfect collision of punk, DIY ethic, and Eastern European instrumental chaos that is definitely worth checking out.

Plus, any band that pays tribute to Pixies can have the whole sheet of gold stars as far as I’m concerned.