Some Beautiful Girls
Last week I was on holiday In Ulladulla; one of my favourite spots in the world (growing up there probably has something to do with this). As I was reading the local paper I was pleasantly surprised to note that there was a gigs section that listed all the local events. I was even more surprised to notice that the list of gigs was not comprised, as I was expecting, of metal bands made up of groups angry year nine boys and ageing hippie-ish women playing bad folk songs about local issues that I don’t know about. Rather, The Beautiful Girls and Josh Pyke were listed as playing locally within the time I would be spending in town.
Naturally my first impulse was to jump on the phone instantly to book tickets. However some practical constraints got in the way of this, namely: me not having my drivers license (or a car) and the fact that I was without cash. Luckily a lift was offered, and my amazing girlfriend’s family bought us tickets as a Christmas present.
Interestingly The Beautiful Girls’ had chosen The Sussex Inlet RSL club as the launching point for their first Australian tour in three years. I found this mildy amusing considering the incongruence of the ideals of conservatism and bourgeois respectability associated with the RSL and the carefree willingness to party with abandon associated with The Beautiful Girls. My amusement and confoundedness at the bands choice of venue was further exacerbated by the fact that Sussex inlet is a town of less than three-thousand people.
When we arrived there was an interesting mix of people at the reception desk of the club, many were over fifty wearing sports jackets and collared shirts despite the languid evening heat, others were dreadlock wearing chillers who had been forced by the RSL dress code to abandon their thongs for the evening in favour of the closed shoes demanded.
As we got closer to the desk where we were to pick up our tickets I could overhear snippets of conversation going on between the manager and the punters, something about everyone needing ID to get in even if they looked over sixty. I have never in my life been asked for ID (this probably has something to do with the fact that I’ve had a full beard since Year Ten). My mind went into panic mode and my pessimism kicked in and I instantly assumed that they’d never let me and I’d miss my chance to see one of my favourite bands. Fortunately my father has occasional flashed of brilliance when dealing with this sort of situation so he signed himself into the club and they gave him a temporary members slip which he then passed onto me, then I used this slip to get into the club, the only condition was that I became Gavin for the night.
As an aside to continue the topic of nonsensical RSL tightness: on the way in my girlfriend got told to take of her crocheted beret, something that I found really random as it was a very subtly stylish piece and I couldn’t see how it was infringing the RSL’s apparently very strict dress code. (She feels that sentence justified the effort in bringing it)
Once inside it was a far less formal affair the people there for the pokies wandered off and the crowd began to look more like what I expected at a reggae gig. There was some stackable chairs strewn randomly about the room so we grabbed a couple and waited for the band to start.
After about forty minuted of chilling and people watching the support band Bonjah took to the stage. Their first track was a slamming reggae/funk infused rockout that showcased the power of their rhythm section that comprised of percussionist James Majernick, drummer Dan Chrisholm, and bass player David Morgan. It was clear that these guys were a practised unit, they didn’t need to look at each for cues and their playing left enough spaces for every one of them to contribute grooves and rhythmic ideas that brought the music to greater heights. This wasn’t your typical drums lay down a straight groove they bass fills out the bottom end and the percussion accentuates and adds flavour, these were complex interwoven parts the effect of which was an insatiable desire to get up and move.
The Boys From Bonjah
Sadly the vibe in the room at this stage was still tentative and mildy awkward, people were unsure as to how to react to this band and were unwilling to seem overly keen by getting right into on the first song of the night. The next couple of tracks took it back a couple of notches with some mellow acoustic songs that showcased the dynamic vocal range of singer Glenn Mossop and the complementary musicality of guitarist Regan Lethbridge. The relationship between the guitar parts and vocal melodies in Bonjah is an unselfish one; neither deliberately takes the foreground or shows off with each contributing what is necessary to make the song come to balanced fruition.
As the set progressed I became increasingly conscious of the accuracy with which the sounds and lyrics of Bonjah captured the Australian condition. The feeling of melancholic patriotism (you know the sense of being proud of who we are as a nation but being slightly ashamed of what we did to get here) conjured by the quality of the acoustic guitars and wailing harmonica combined with wistful and witty lyricisms was similar to that evoked by the earlier works of Midnight Oil.
As the set built the dance floor gradually filled with bodies and an air of appreciation of the moment pervaded, however throughout the later parts of Bonjah’s set there was an increasingly sense of anticipation; it was clear that people were eager to see The Beautiful Girls.
As Bonjah finished their set with Spin with the world they were greeted with a thoroughly appreciative applause, the crowd were primed and ready to get down with The Beautiful Girls.
Naturally between sets I went off and procured a copy of Bonjah’s album. I always find taking note of the bands that support bands I like to be a good way of discovering new music.
I’ve followed the Beautiful Girls since they were basically an acoustic duo singing songs about the ocean and not needing money to appreciate it. Since then their sound has developed into a slightly more sophisticated beast incorporating trad reggae and dark ska with a hint of minimalism. I hadn’t really kept up with the bands sounds as it developed so I was going into the gig with only a vague idea of what to expect.
When the band walked out there was an uproarious applause most of the guys were wearing pretty typical surfer band gear t-shirts and jeans; I only comment on this fact because their bass player Paulie B was wearing a three piece suit and a jazz hat. The fact that he could do this and still exude cool in a small room packed with four-hundred people amazes me. Like Atticus Finch not an item of the suit was loosened or removed until the end of the set.
The first thing I noticed about the band’s sound was how tight the low end was; I’d been expecting strong back beats and funky grooves, but the bands new drummer was completely different to Joel Battersby the drummer he replaced. Everything he played was solid as a rock and straight down the line, very polyrhythmic too, an unfamiliar trait in a reggae drummer. Paulie B’s bass is the centre of the band’s sound currently defining the dark tonality and tight but uninhibited grooves.
These guys aren’t afraid to alter older songs to fit the sound and direction of the new lineup incorporating horns and keyboards to their older songs that would previously have only been accompanied by two acoustic guitars. This made the live experience very interesting and thoroughly worthwhile as it was like experiencing something completely new despite the songs being five or six years old.
Perhaps my favourite moment of the whole evening was in Under A Southern Sky where the bridge chords are fairly similar to Phil Collin’s classic In the Air Tonight. As an acknowledgement of this similarity, Mat launched into the chorus of this classic without skipping a beat; in seconds the whole room was singing along.
Throughout the set there was a constant sense of ascension; the set listing wasn’t formulated in the usual start out strong, throw in some softer songs in the middle and then thrash it in the end. There was a constant build to a very tangible climax. Halfway through the encore set Mat announced that due to travel arrangements the band hadn’t properly celebrated the New Year yet and a tray of shots was brought onto stage and the band indulged before launching into the last song of the night. It was clear that the band were having a great time back in Australia and Mat seemed almost unwilling to leave the stage as even after the culmination of the last song of the encore set he looked keenly over to his band mates and slammed out a repetitive riff in drop D that recurred into a screaming crescendo after which he propped his guitar against his amp and simply walked off stage crown Lager in hand.
The Beautiful Girls have an extensive back catalogue; I’d recommend listening to them chronologically so you can hear the progression of their sound over the years as it could be a little weirdto go from the ska/electronica of Ziggurats back to Learn Yourself or one of the other earlier ones.
Bonjah’s album is Until Dawn, they’ve got a couple of Ep’s too, they’re well worth checking out.
