Like a phalanx of backing musicians or a catering rider that shuns Jack Daniels for cases of prune juice, the playing of a complete album at a live show usually signals a band on the decline. Some sacrifice the spontaneity of a fertile setlist for the familiarity of a 'classic album' for nostalgia; others do it to justify a tsunami of retro merchandising. Since promoting newly released recordings is the normal impetus for a tour, saluting back catalogue material is often interpreted as a band whose fuel gauge is on 'E'.
So ... what happens when a band with a full tank of petrol commemorates the one-year anniversary of their first album by playing it from start to finish?
If you're Dave Wright and the Midnight Electric, you eradicate all cynicism and leave a Saturday night crowd at Whole Lotta Love in Brunswick East thirsting for a follow-up to The Lucky Country so we can be indulged with another end-to-end album show in a year's time. From keyboardist Daryl Johnson and drummer Neil Salmon's moody kickoff of 'Take Me Out' to Rob Barber's epic guitar finale of 'Into the Big Blue' the band not only replicated every note, but played each one with a confidence and force gained over many nights on small stages before fierce followers.
DWME is a rumbling, finely tuned beast. I hope whatever studio they record their second album in has triple-planed glass. It may get dangerous.
[The band's final show of 2015 will be opening for Aussie icon Mick Thomas at the Spotted Mallard in Brunswick on 18 Dec.]
Dave Wright and the Midnight Electric.
Dave and Big Tim Cavanagh.
The Midnight Electric horns (John Bryant & Anthony Foon) harmonise with Rob Barber.
George Orwell once wrote 'To see what is in front of one's nose needs a constant struggle.' Prescient words from the man who predicted our current age of omnipresent surveillance, but who could not have foreseen that struggle extending to shared digital environments where people yearn for things that may, in fact, be just in front of their noses.
Case in point: This meme (left). It pops up every few months on Facebook. At first glance it's classic Old People Hate New Things. The former lead singer and lyricist for Led Zeppelin is now 67 years old and collaborating with artists from around the world on critically acclaimed projects but his Zep days linger as a benchmark against which Kanye West, Taylor Swift, Justin Bieber, Miley Cyrus, et al don't measure up. Never mind that Zep was lambasted by contemporary critics, particularly those employed by Rolling Stone in the days the magazine packed considerable cultural heft. For people raised on '70s FM radio Robert Plant was and will forever be a Rock God from a musical era steeped in freedom, exploration, brazenness, booze, drugs, wild hair and silk shirts that's as similar to today's music industry as brick-sized portable phones of the '70s to today's iPhones. An era to be romanticised, mourned, abandoned to the dustbin of nostalgia.
Except it isn't.
There it was. All of it. In the moody front room of the Yarra Hotel a couple Saturdays ago. A gang of musicians with day jobs dreaming big. Original tunes sung with full-throated passion. Tales of characters true to this time and this place. A camaraderie between band and audience borne of shared struggle. All of it. Right there. Maybe this is what is was like when Zep was playing grubby halls throughout the English countryside, or Springsteen in shitholes up and down the East Coast. Am I comparing Dave Wright and the Midnight Electric to Led Zeppelin and Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band? Of course not. I'm pointing out how many self-described music junkies are overcome by the haze of nostalgia and too intoxicated to comprehend the rock and roll majesty in their own fucking grasp, up close, free of industry smoke and mirrors. Affordable. Fun. Heartfelt. The real motherfucking deal.
Do you hate soulless, talent-show dreck?
Do you yearn for music that speaks to you, your life, your country, your struggle, your dreams?
It's right there, people. All you gotta do is reach out and grab it.
Here's some more photos from the Yarra show. DWME will play its final headline gig of 2015 at the bizarre Zep-themed Whole Lotta Love in East Brunswick on Saturday, 7 November. After that the boys are opening for Mick Thomas at the Spotted Mallard on 18 December. Dave is quick to pronounce Mick Thomas's Weddings, Parties, Anything as a major influencer of his songwriting style, so opening one of Thomas's Christmas shows is both an honour and opportunity for DWME to strut their stuff before a legend of Aussie rock.
You should come along.
Dave dons a mouth harp.
Rock-God-In-His-Own-Right Rob Barber.
Drummer Neil Salmon.
Dave and bassist Tim Cav.
Keyboardist Daryl Johnson flashes a smile beneath a Bakersfield hat.
Trombonist extraordinaire John Bryant takes a breather during Anthony Foon's trumpet solo.
It wasn't easy capturing a photo of all seven members of Dave Wright and the Midnight Electric at The Catfish in Fitzroy two weeks ago. The boys were scattered about the downstairs bar like straphangers on a crowded train, keyboardist Daryl Johnson and drummer Neil Salmon the only ones lucky to find seats. It made for an uneasy setting up: Groups of people who'd been sitting at tables found themselves gradually inundated by musical equipment and -- even worse -- musicians. Man-of-a-thousand-gadgets Rob Barber planted himself and his six-string beside the door, guaranteeing all Catfish entrants between the hours of 8:00 and 11:00 an immediate face-to-guitar-neck encounter. The band was eager to play but this pre-gig game of musical chairs was unsettling, at best.
Turned out to be a common phenomenon at the Catfish. I stopped in for one of their fine craft beers the following weekend and had a quick chat with one of its owners, a jovial, Melbourne-born bloke named Michael. He described the familiar routine of bands walking into his bar, seeing the stage area, staring incredulously, and wondering how in the hell it would work out. All, he said, found happiness, as the venue's low ceilings and cramped confines proved secondary to the proximity to a lively, appreciative crowd in a truly great pub.
The band's performance on this Friday night in Fitzroy attested to that. Here's proof: A song called 'Into the Big Blue'. It's from their first album The Lucky Country that Dave only recently added to the setlist. It builds with the patience of Springsteen's 'Jungleland' and explodes with a guitar solo that echoes David Gilmour's on Pink Floyd's 'Comfortably Numb'. Dem's big words, but see for yourself:
Due to the remarkable work of local-legend Michael Egan a number of videos from the Catfish show may be viewed from the comforts of home on YouTube: Drinking Days, Railroad Song, Over the Top and another angle of Into the Big Blue.
DWME played two full sets. While it's probably a stretch to call it a dilemma, figuring out what to play and when before crowds that don't know your music is a challenge. DWME aren't a niche band that cranks out an hour's worth of genre-friendly product night in, night out. They're a band raring to release a second album with an unusually diverse collection of original songs at the ready. With that in mind it wasn't a surprise they kicked things off with the brand new, never-before-played 'When the Needle Hits the Red', a personal song that's open to all kinds of interpretation, all of them affecting. The rest of the first set was similarly risk-taking, with crowd favourites like 'Over the Top', 'The Spitting Image' and DWME's cover of The Church's 'Under the Milky Way' mixed with dusted-off gems and another new song called 'Summer Girls'.
If you're a fan of the band you listen to an opening set like that knowing the engine room will be fully coal-fired in the second set. But if you're not familiar with the band's catalogue, like the table of people to the right of Rob in this photo (left) who traveled to Catfish to attend the show but left after the first set, your impression of the band's sound is incomplete. Not the end of the world, of course, but to judge a DWME show without hearing incendiary staples like 'Streets of this Town', 'Father', 'Sweet Caroline', 'The Lucky Country' -- I could go on -- is akin to leaving a Southern barbecue before pie is served. Just. Not. Done.
As the night wore on foot traffic in and out the door led me to stand beside it to ensure it remained closed between punters. Better me than Rob, who was busy laying down guitar licks and background vocals. I stepped outside at one point to appreciate the vividly Melburnian tableau of a band bringing the heat to a venue as original as the music being played. Throughout the second set Dave and bass player Big Tim Cav moved among the crowd, an exercise that usually requires hopping from a stage but on this night took only a step or two. The Midnight Electric horns -- trombonist John Bryant and trumpeter Anthony Foon -- stood opposite Dave and Tim and more than one patron nearly suffered a decapitation via John's trombone. It was a night that began with trepidation but ended in celebration. In other words, a typical night at the Catfish, and another great night in the city of Melbourne with Dave Wright and the Midnight Electric.
Keyboardist Daryl Johnson didn't let being wedged between tables affect his playing. The odd configuration of the band throughout the bar somehow brought his keys to the fore, laying plush carpets of sound beneath DWME's multi-instrumental assault.
Always a crooner ....
Up against the wall, Midnight Electric horns ...
Rob escapes his corner to jam with Dave.
My favourite photo on the night captures Dave and Mary sharing a moment.
Rob frightens passersby on Gertrude Street.
Come to a rock show, spend time with extraordinary people ...
These two self-proclaimed Catfish regulars bought autographed copies of 'The Lucky Country' and insisted DWME was the best band they'd ever seen at the pub. We all obviously look forward to seeing them again.
At the stroke of midnight it was Rob's birthday. Can't start it much better than in the company of 'Teachers for Tom Morello' Piera and Mary.
The front bar of the Yarra Hotel, site of Saturday night's Dave Wright & the Midnight Electric rock show, is like a setting for a Francis Ford Coppola period piece. All yellow lighting and curios on the wall and polished wood and a post-WWII ambiance of meat sauce and cigarette smoke. Situated in what was once a working class neighbourhood, the Yarra feels like a place where generations of men have done things, very bad things, and all that comforting veneer can't wash away the blood.
Which made the Yarra a perfect setting for the songs of DWME. The Lucky Country, their first full-length release, crackles with a treasure chest of sounds. New Orleans horns, mandolin, banjo and more leap at a listener like confetti from a cannon while a cauldron of menace bubbles in the lyrics. Likewise onstage, DWME come across as a band of harmless blokes armed with shiny tools that happen to conjure spirits dead and alive. Dave Wright sang songs of love and loss Saturday night with a voice choked by a chest cold but I believe he was helped along by Yarra's everpresent ghosts, kindred spirits invigorated by tales of good people doing bad things and bad people doing much worse.
This was a night to appreciate the majesty of Melbourne. Want to experience a soul-shaking rock show? Throw on a clean shirt. Grab your girl. Play loud music during an easy drive to Abbottsford. Park the car on a quiet side street. Force some winter air into the lungs before stepping into a warm, low-lit hotel. Survey a room dotted with familiar faces. Grab a drink at the bar. Devour a perfect parma as the band sound checks. And then reap the benefits of so little effort.
Most of you reading this will be familiar with the ecstasy of being in the pit of a Springsteen show. It's glorious. But it's also hard fucking work, not to mention a financial kick in the nuts. For two hours Saturday me and a group of lovely people shared the camaraderie of a pit while singing along to songs that get better with every listen.
Sound familiar? Come along to the next show at Bar 303 in Northcote on Saturday 4 July. Tell me I'm wrong ... after you wipe a giant grin from your face.
Dave and Big Tim Cavanagh sound check.
Camera captures a ghostly Dave, flanked by Rob Barber on guitar and Daryl Johnson on keys.
It seemed a bit rhetorical so I took it as the closest you'll get to an acknowledgment from the man himself that Saturday's show at the Brunswick Hotel was, in fact, a scorching success. Instead of replying privately via text I'll respond here:
Yes, Dave, you and the boys put on a pretty good show on Saturday. A completely revamped setlist, a never-before-played song called 'Sweet Caroline', and enough energy onstage to get everyone dancing. INCLUDING MY SORRY ASS. That, boy-o, is either a minor miracle or the result of too much Jack Daniels. And I went light on the JD on Saturday.
Regular readers of this blog will think I'm either on the DWME payroll or borderline obsessed with this band but Saturday's show was fucking spectacular. Not pyrotechnics and massive video screens and 60,000 attendees spectacular -- sticky carpet and good beer and Saturday-without-a-care-crowd spectacular. At one point in the evening I found myself smiling one of those smiles that only happens at Springsteen concerts. One that surprises me each time. Without getting new age-y it's just pure release: my brain's not running the show, my soul is. Maybe that's what's driven me to see Springsteen close to 100 times, a moment when my consciousness has to call attention to an unusual situation by brashly pointing out, 'Hey asshole ... you're happy.' Of course other things make this happen but when it's music, it matters more.
There's a song Springsteen wrote about his mother back in the late '80s called 'The Wish'. I'm pretty sure it took him over 10 years to release it (on 1998's Tracks) because it's about the most personal song he's ever penned. No bravado, no role playing, just Bruce singing about his mum and her importance to his career. A pair of lines from the song have been running through my head since Saturday's show at the 'Brunny':
I got my hot rod down on Bond Street, I'm older but you'll know me in a glance
We'll find us a little rock 'n roll bar and baby we'll go out and dance
Bruce was famous for hopping in his car and heading down to a Jersey shore juke joint when the mood struck, when he wanted to 'be where the bands are.' There IS glory to be found in a rockin' band in a warm room, alone or in a crowd of friends. No spectacle, no obscenely priced tickets, no hoopla. Just a band you and your baby can dance to on a Saturday night.
I'm lucky to have visited one such room, the Stone Pony in Asbury Park, many dozens of times, sometimes to see a big-name act, sometimes wandering off the boardwalk on a cold night for a beer and a band. The 'Brunny' has a similar feel, and with DWME on its stage I felt transported.
I'm starting to think my appreciation for DWME stems not only from their brilliant collection of songs and musicianship but an ability to turn whatever venue they're playing into the likes of the Pony. Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes were the Pony's original house band in the mid-70s but I hesitate to compare DWME to them because ... well ... Johnny only sings. Miami Steve Van Zandt wrote their best songs and didn't stick around long before becoming Springsteen's consigliere in the E Street Band. Southside's gone through an army of sidemen ever since, but deep down wishes he could write a song as good as Dave Wright. Many years later Southside and the Jukes remain a force on stage but don't travel to the Southern hemisphere, so I've missed them since moving to Australia.
With another DWME show to look forward to Sat 6 June at the Yarra Hotel in Abbottsford, however, I don't actually miss 'em at all.
If "there ain't nothing more honest than pub rock in Melbourne" as Dave said introducing a monstrous version of 'The Lucky Country', then he and the lads brought great truth to the 'Brunny' on this night.
Susan and Veronica, a coupla serious rock and roll chicks.
You'd be forgiven thinking this band's played dozens of shows together but in fact Saturday's show was only the third with drummer Aled Templeton. Dave's grin in this photo speaks volumes about the young man's chops.
On a personal note it was a special night for yours truly as my wife (right) caught her first DWME show. It shan't be her last. I was also surprised by the appearance of close friends Kathryn and Paddy who made the trip despite Kathryn being under the weather. Bloody legends.
Saturday's set list:
Set 1:
Dust On The Wind
Coming Home
Trains
Blacktown
The Spitting Image
Save It For A Rainy Day
Sweet Caroline (Live debut)
Under The Milky Way
Life In A Northern Town
Happiness
Set 2:
Classic Cars
Streets Of This Town
Railway Song
Father
Only 19
The Lucky Country
Atlantic City
Hang Me High
Drinking Days
Rain
Take Me Out
Encore:
Drive
'The words of the prophet were written on a Brunswick Hotel bathroom wall .....'
