Boy and Bear at The State Theatre, Sydney

Sophie Metcalfe reviewed and photographed Boy and Bear's gig in Sydney last week:

It has been a while since I’ve been to an all-ages gig. I think we can all agree that the all-ages plaque is usually an instant repellent for anyone who’s post teen. An environment involving small greasy things with underdeveloped limbs prodding our sides and screaming ‘I love you’ toward the stage. But, if there’s anybody thinking of enduring such a crowd – then The State Theatre is the place to be.
No wait - Boy and Bear at The State Theatre is the place to be.

It was great to be in an atmosphere where the excitement started from the opening song of the first act. Tin Sparrow began with their chai scented folk like a welcoming hug. Following this was Jungle Giants and although I usually switch off when any Vampire Weekendesque indie-rock comes my way – I actually caught myself bopping along somewhat pleased! By the time Boy and Bear came on, the excitable young things, the palatial setting and the man walking around selling candy and ice cream had seduced me. So no matter what went down I had already given this night a thumbs-up.

Opening with Rabbit Song – the boys quickly reminded us why we were all there. Grabbing our attention with flawless harmonies and a fluid light display, Boy and Bear had captured the attention of everyone in their hot little hands. One thing to be said in particular is that they have a great onstage presence. Engaging in banter that isn’t flawlessly witty, but rather a relaxed and goober-esque interchange between mates, it made you feel like you were in their garage drinking their dads' Coopers and just having your usual Sunday night session. They have a knack however, of going straight from having this grand old chinwag to slipping into a beautifully executed, intimate minor melody.

They glided through an impeccable set which was sprinkled with heckles from girls ranging from ‘marry me Dave’ to ‘I love you’ and there was even a sneaky ‘fuck me’. By the time the set got to Feeding Line, the girls were out of their seats and lining the walls of the theatre; everyone had fallen in love with
them all over again. There was an endearing little spiel about how they don’t like the idea of encores and then told us of their ‘mock-encore’, which involves pretending to leave the stage. Dave shoots one last heart melting glance to the audience, the girls scream a little more and then they play their ACTUAL last song.

Thank you Boy and Bear – for pulling a cynic out of her depths and giving her a truly fantastic, light-hearted night at the theatre.

Words and photographs by Sophie Metcalfe.

Mark Lanegan Band - Blues Funeral

Bobbysix photographer Sophie Metcalfe makes her reviewing debut, and does it really rather brilliantly:

It’s strange to feel nostalgia from an album that you’re only greeting for the first time, but it struck head-on from the moment I introduced myself to Blues Funeral. Crawling out of bed (rusty from the night before), I played track one and found myself thrown right back there. I taste the dark spirits, smell the poorly rolled cigarettes and can hear the garbled banter. Despite my hazy brain, I am quite content sitting with Lanegan at the kitchen table, as his familiar blues riffs take me through fractured memories from last night.

Not only does Lanegan earn himself a place in my Tom Waits book of ‘well-whiskeyed voices’ but he also has the power to thread this somewhat eclectic album together. You're greeted with a rolling bass-line and lusty layered guitar in Gravediggers Song – which is reminiscent of his dabbling with QOTSA – only to be then soothed back into familiar and faultless blues songs such as Bleeding Muddy Water and St Louis Elegy. They transpose me to my teenage years when my uncle would chew my ear off about New Orleans and hand me a pile of dusty albums for homework.

I settled all too comfortably with this sound only to be then hit with instances of a 90’s drum machine in Ode to Sad Disco, pop-rock choruses in Quiver Syndrome and did I hear a flute in those last few tracks? I’m left wondering what game is Lanegan playing (reaching for my plate of greased-up hangover breakfast).

An interesting exercise would be to gut the vocals from these tracks and see if they still held together as brothers from the one gene pool. But that’s ok. If you can view this album as a montage of his musical career, it is a fascinating insight into the breadth of influences and musical capabilities of Lanegan. He dips into the pot of many genres in Blues Funeral, but does it humbly and does it well. With no need to include any 20-minute power licks to prove this past, the songs aren’t huge feats but rather unassuming and skilfully executed. It is in some ways an old rocker’s ‘screw you’ to a society drowned with fad indie riffs and bird-like-synth-girls breathing down a microphone. After all, Lanegan has been there and back again and has the voice to prove it.

Review by Sophie Metcalfe