Judith Wright Centre - Sat Mar 7

I recently read about an art exhibition in which the floor of an aviary was covered with guitars, with birds landing on the strings causing all sorts of sound and feedback. While I’m sure that Melbourne’s Ian Wadley has more of a musical sensibility than a bunch of birds, I’m afraid that the guitarist birds would make for a more interesting experience than Wadley’s unrelated collection of guitar sounds.

I’ve always thought that if an art school became a band (by some strange twist of fate!) then this band would be The Rational Academy. Not a crappy Australian art school with HECS-assisted kids with nothing better to do, but an art school in Austin, where the students graduate with such spirit-crushing debt that they spend all their time driving around Texas to find the best swimming holes to forget about it all.

Grouper aka Liz Harris sits alone on stage, and somehow her array of effects pedals seem her closest companions, as she tends to them like one might see a young girl arranging dolls at a private tea party. Her image as the poster child of the lo-fi Portland aesthetic is confirmed when cassette is inserted into Walkman amongst the jumble of audio devices, then another. Through waves of looped vocals and softly strummed guitar, Grouper has me so very enraptured, so completely absorbed into her world of endless industrial estates and lonely nights smothered with sheets of icy rain. She’s like the quiet voice that won’t stop reminding you that you’ve made too many mistakes in life to fix, the warm inviting blanket of self-pity and reflective isolation. Moments of optimism shine through, as do moments of dark unsettlement. The set ends abruptly with a whimper, not with a bang, and album favourites are sadly absent, but damn if this wasn’t a deeply affecting moment.

PAUL RANKIN

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