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 Photo: Kylie Keene The Troubadour - Fri Jul 25
Visiting a theme that is revisited throughout the night, local firebird Kristy London appears in Battlestar Acoustica mode, her seductive vocals accompanied by only sparse guitar chords. On this wind-whipped winter night, the rapidly growing crowd huddle together at the front of the stage, thankfully ignoring The Troubadour trend of sitting cross-legged and complacent.
Given his status as a Brisbane icon, with over twenty years of quirky and crafty pop songwriting under his belt, the dapper Dave McCormack performs his part as middle act with ease. Equipped only with a battered nylon string guitar and a programmed hand clapper intended to assist in keeping time (but toyed with repeatedly by McCormack, full of child-like enthusiasm and delight), he belts through a set that delves deep into the Custard catalogue – The New Matthew is the most pleasurable of the nights singalongs – as well as The Titanics’ and Polaroids’. Familiar faces Dylan McCormack and Norto stand by the stage, providing solidarity and camaraderie, but one of Brisbane’s greatest musicians needs no such assurance tonight.
Showcasing tracks from her powerful debut solo album along with choice tracks from her years spent with Frente!, Splendid and Holidays On Ice, evocative songstress Angie Hart wraps up the evenings proceedings, bringing along a friend to strum some stripped-down acoustic guitar once more. No, Accidently Kelly Street did not get a run through, but you must remember that Frente!’s bassist Tim O’Connor wrote that, so get over it. It ends up only being the most minor of disappointments, as Hart’s waifish voice leave the entire audience swaying in a mixture of adoration and fond recollection. Her interpretation of The Cure’s Pictures Of You (frequently heard on a driver safety advertisement in Victoria) might seem like an odd and slightly depressing performance for an encore, but I heard no complaints as the packed masses slowly left the venue, brimming with infectious melodies and tender memories. And then we go outside and freeze our tits off, great!
MITCH ALEXANDER
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