Gig Review Big Bang! Festival - Black Pony Express, Hugo Race, Kill Devil Hills, The Tote
It was that arctic on Saturday night that I guess a lot of people opted for hot chocolate in their jim jams, and the Olympics on the telly, leaving a pretty sparse audience at the Tote for the Bang! Records showcase. There was a bitter chill coming in through the door to the beer garden and the only the way not to freeze was to keep dashing into the front room to jostle for space in front of the fire. But it was all well worth the frostbite.
We caught the last song from the Black Pony Express. The lead singer announced: “This is a song we recorded in 1971” and launched into a fantastic, frenetic, wailing blues. I doubt he was born yet but the band jelled so well that you could imagine that they had been playing together for that long. This little tantaliser was enough to inspire me to buy their live album on the way out. At the merchandise stand, the singer and guitarist assured us that they are locals and that we would be able to catch them playing around Melbourne but he emphasised “we don’t play south of the river... it’s like Capulets and Montagues.” The live album lived up to expectation. I will make sure I’m on time for their next gig.
Hugo Race was a bit disappointing in comparison. His set was dark and drab – fitting perfectly with the weather conditions but nothing like the wild storm-cloud that was Black Pony Express. Accompanying Hugo Race’s dark minor drawl was a musician playing trumpet, trombone and harmonica into effects pedals, which should have added an interesting element to the songs. But the guy spent more time fiddling with knobs than actually playing the instruments. The sounds he created were too sparse and didn’t add much to the overall sound.
Next up The Kill Devil Hills. For various reasons, I have missed this Perth band each time they have come to Melbourne and each time I have heard reports of the incredible gigs that I’ve missed.
Walking on stage, these guys looked like real country yahoos – flannel shirts hanging over beer guts, biker beards and torn denim. These guys haven’t just jumped on the David Jones cowboy shirt, alt-country bandwagon.
The singer assumed a position like he was waiting for the starting gun for the hundred metres, the drummer let out a wail like a hungry coyote and suddenly we were hit by a wall of twang. The fiddle player danced and spun like he was playing on hot coals and the guy on mandolin rocked out more than any I’ve ever seen (he headbanged through the whole set).
We were treated to a fantastic set of dark whisky soaked rockin’ country - the kind that would slay Keith Urban in a drunken knife fight. You could hear influences from Johnny Cash, Tom Waits, Dylan, and spaghetti western soundtracks, among many others, but the Kill Devil Hills have definitely created their own unique sound. Along with bands like The Gin Club, they are leading Australian roots music in strange new directions.
They finished by inviting a bunch of friends and Melbourne musicians up on stage to help them sing Drinkin’ Too Much. I spent the next day nursing a hangover with the lyrics in my head: “I can never believe... you tell me that I’m drinkin’ too much ... pack your bags and leave... you tell me that I’m drinkin’ too much... some things I can not conceive... you tell me that I’m drinkin’ too much”.
We caught the last song from the Black Pony Express. The lead singer announced: “This is a song we recorded in 1971” and launched into a fantastic, frenetic, wailing blues. I doubt he was born yet but the band jelled so well that you could imagine that they had been playing together for that long. This little tantaliser was enough to inspire me to buy their live album on the way out. At the merchandise stand, the singer and guitarist assured us that they are locals and that we would be able to catch them playing around Melbourne but he emphasised “we don’t play south of the river... it’s like Capulets and Montagues.” The live album lived up to expectation. I will make sure I’m on time for their next gig.
Hugo Race was a bit disappointing in comparison. His set was dark and drab – fitting perfectly with the weather conditions but nothing like the wild storm-cloud that was Black Pony Express. Accompanying Hugo Race’s dark minor drawl was a musician playing trumpet, trombone and harmonica into effects pedals, which should have added an interesting element to the songs. But the guy spent more time fiddling with knobs than actually playing the instruments. The sounds he created were too sparse and didn’t add much to the overall sound.
Next up The Kill Devil Hills. For various reasons, I have missed this Perth band each time they have come to Melbourne and each time I have heard reports of the incredible gigs that I’ve missed.
Walking on stage, these guys looked like real country yahoos – flannel shirts hanging over beer guts, biker beards and torn denim. These guys haven’t just jumped on the David Jones cowboy shirt, alt-country bandwagon.
The singer assumed a position like he was waiting for the starting gun for the hundred metres, the drummer let out a wail like a hungry coyote and suddenly we were hit by a wall of twang. The fiddle player danced and spun like he was playing on hot coals and the guy on mandolin rocked out more than any I’ve ever seen (he headbanged through the whole set).
We were treated to a fantastic set of dark whisky soaked rockin’ country - the kind that would slay Keith Urban in a drunken knife fight. You could hear influences from Johnny Cash, Tom Waits, Dylan, and spaghetti western soundtracks, among many others, but the Kill Devil Hills have definitely created their own unique sound. Along with bands like The Gin Club, they are leading Australian roots music in strange new directions.
They finished by inviting a bunch of friends and Melbourne musicians up on stage to help them sing Drinkin’ Too Much. I spent the next day nursing a hangover with the lyrics in my head: “I can never believe... you tell me that I’m drinkin’ too much ... pack your bags and leave... you tell me that I’m drinkin’ too much... some things I can not conceive... you tell me that I’m drinkin’ too much”.
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