The Palace
Firstly, I
should point out that of the 1800-plus people encased in the Palace Theatre
tonight, I’m probably the only one over 25, and the only one who hasn’t
listened to Triple J in over a year, so this is a review from the outside of
the phenomenon known as Ball Park Music. From this perspective, the show seems
like an extension of nationwide schoolies celebrations and a massive testament
to the power of Triple J playlisting. Anyone thinking that Spotify and music
streaming sites are changing the way people listen to music gets a massive
reality check coming here tonight.
The crowd, made
up of hyperactive freshly laundered teenagers with neat haircuts (and a
worrying number of unflattering moustaches), throngs with excitement. Opening
festivities is Courtney Barnett,
local legend and charisma machine, a woman as hilarious as she is talented, who
boasts a deft backing band. Barnett sets about converting the curious and has
little trouble winning them over, so at ease is she. Her songs perfectly
straddle the line between radio friendly and chipper Empress open mic night
fare. Closing with probable local Single of The Year™ History Eraser, it’s a safe bet she’s found plenty of new fans.
Next up are Loon Lake, a five piece specialising in
clean but heavy power pop with so much emoting in the vocals that words are
almost intelligible. This matters little though, when you pull out pop hook
after pop hook and the audience love every song and shred of stage banter.
Softer songs have a yacht rock feel about them, and each one features at least
one guitar break, which is a nice throwback. Songs are simple and to the point
with Into The Office and Cherry Lips generating the most
excitement.
Ball Park Music, now in
the home stretch of their Museum tour
seem to barely need to try, so in love are the crowd. That they do and that
they bring so much personality to the performance is testament to the
professionalism they bring the music. Opening with Fence Sitter, for all their wild stage antics and madcap
instrumental breaks, their songs have sharp edges and sudden ends and are
actually very controlled. Though the crowd are singing every word, punching
their air and occasionally dabbling with a little crowd surfing, there is
something shallow about their music, a sense of empty gesture that isn’t there
on lead singer Sam Cromack’s solo work.
While
weightless, almost meaningless lyrics are de
rigueur in pop music, this lack of substance extends to the music and undercuts
the moments of greatness that the band occasionally reaches. All I Want Is You, Surrender, Literally Baby,
and new single Coming Down all send
the crowd into greater paroxysms of glee, a sight that warms the heart of
anyone who fears the next generation want their shared experiences exclusively
online. The music itself though is free of surprises and unexpected tangents,
but when songs this poptastic are rendered so crisply and to such a rapid
response, asking for something more sounds like pointless niggling.
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