Lily Allen at the Hordern Pavilion, Sydney

LILY ALLEN
MIAMI HORROR
The Hodern Pavilion, 21/01/10

Melbourne DJ/producer Benjamin Plant, otherwise known as Miami Horror, performed live as part of a four piece band which offered dance-fuelled indie disco. While it was sleek enough and boasted occasional uplifting moments, for the most part it was a pretty uninspiring set.

When Lily Allen first played in Sydney, she had the aesthetic of a typical English backpacker, bounding around in white trainers, so it is an indication of how much of a star she has since become that she slinked onstage looking every part the diva in massive heels and proceeded to make two costume changes during the show. Indeed, her huge marketability can also be indicated by the fact she told the crowd she was celebrating her album "going quadruple platinum". Drinking "disgusting" wine through a straw, the Brit got the ball rolling with Everyone's At It and LDN, while also throwing in a few covers, including The Kooks' Naive, Britney's Womanizer and a version of Just Be Good To Me featuring UK rapper Professor Green.

Her songs were delivered in the kind of bubblegum pop style that has ensured her records have sold by the truckload, yet it is her lyrical content that separates her from her mainstream contemporaries. Her stories contained plenty of acerbic wit and adult themes which offered a nice juxtaposition to the radio-friendly tunes they were wrapped in. The pleasing honesty to her subject matter was constant, whether she was talking about a lover's ineptitude in bed (Not Fair) or going on anti-war rants (the brilliantly-titled Kabul Shit). Okay, sometimes her wordplay may lack subtlety, but there is nothing wrong with using pop songs to smack people around the face with a bit of morality, and anyone who writes an anti-Bush song called Fuck You deserves plenty of credit. The Fear, though, was the standout track of the night. Not only is it Allen's best song, but one of the finest pop offerings of the last few years with its knowing swipe at celebrity culture.

She may be platinum-plated nowadays, but, delightfully, this rapturously received show proved she is still the same old Lily. Charismatic, bursting with energy and telling everyday truths in her songs; when it comes to pop stars, Lily Allen is as real as they get.

The Brunettes - Paper Dolls

New Zealand's The Brunettes are Jonathan Bree and Heather Mansfield and their fourth album sees them deliver boy/girl duets over plinky-plonky electro. In Paper Dolls' better moments, it comes across like Belle and Sebastian with a laptop, but sometimes the lyrics, vocals and twinkly instrumentation are just too sickly. Even when the word-play is interesting, the niceness it's sheathed in is more than a little grating and the whole boy/girl thing soon becomes a tiring because, generally, there isn't enough variety to their songs. By the time Magic (No Bunny) sees Bree and Mansfield delivering alternating lines at the album's mid-point: "Suburban kids may tease our style/Well all you can do is just show them a smile/I may have to stop and rest a while/That's okay by me, you can buy me a Coke," you'll be crying out for a direction different to such measured cuteness. However, while such diversity rarely occurs, the album improves in its second half. Lead single Red Roller Skates is a fine pop tune with glockenspiel and handclaps and the album's title track is another example of The Brunettes getting it right, with long sections of subdued instrumentaltation punctuated by some pleasingly downbeat vocals. But these moments are fleeting and, by the time they arrive, it's hard not to already feel over the album. The problems with Paper Dolls are twofold. Firstly, the songs on offer aren't especially memorable. Secondly, the line between being adorably quirky and irritatingly twee is a thin one, and one which The Brunettes frequently step over. Somewhere in Paper Dolls are some rather good ideas, but they are suffocated by such overt tweeness.

The Soft Pack - Extinction

Until recently, this LA-based four-piece was called The Muslims. However, feeling that the somewhat controversial moniker was distracting from their music, they changed it and, as The Soft Pack, are continuing to make a name for themselves in The States and in Europe. They have recently supported Phoenix, The Breeders and Franz Ferdinand, got tongues wagging at SXSW and now their debut long-player, Extinction, sees the bringing together of all of their best work to date on one disc.

Playing at just half-an-hour in total, the album’s ten tracks are done and dusted before you know it, but the record is certainly crammed full of punchy and infectious garage-rock, as the band draws on a number of worthy influences. Often there is a rawness that is reminiscent of The Stooges or The Velvet Underground and, indeed, at times lead singer Matt Lamkin’s vocal goes brilliantly wonky just like Lou Reed’s. At times he sounds aloof and detached, while elsewhere he sounds so venomous that it seems he wants to rip your throat out. Meanwhile, perky post-punk opener, Bright Side, is not dissimilar to The Strokes and is representative of the catchy and upbeat sound that continues throughout.

If stripped-down, punky garage rock ‘n’ roll is your thing, then The Soft Pack will surely be right up your alley. They might draw fairly strongly on their influences, but it is done with love and honesty and there is something absolutely believable about the result. One senses that the snappy and exciting Extinction marks the beginning of something much bigger for The Soft Pack.

Jamie T at The Gaelic Club, Sydney

JAMIE T

The Gaelic Club, Sydney

03/01/10

It seems Jamie T is never away from Sydney, yet, far from the city growing tired of him, his performance at The Gaelic Club was greeted with the kind of hysteria that suggests he is always a welcome guest. Just like when he was at The Metro a couple of months back, a packed room sang every word back at the Londoner. Anyone who is familiar with Jamie Treays' high speed, slang-ridden vernacular will know that that is an achievement in itself.

Helped by the crisp and clear Gaelic sound, the set was a familiar and high-energy run-through of material from his two albums, highlights of which were So Lonely Was The Ballad and Pacemaker. Treays was his usual cheeky self, paying out the people who chose to stand at the back of the room rather than getting involved in the melee at the front. Indeed, for set closer Sheila, he dragged one of the "middle-aged men" from the back of the room onto the stage and took part in a dance-off with him. Maybe he did it to entertain himself during a song that he must have sung a zillion times, but in truth, to the rest of us Sheila still sounded as fresh as ever without the need for such - admittedly fun - gimmicks.

By the time he encored with Sticks 'n' Stones, the crowd - from which a lot of English accents could be picked out - were going mental, crowd surfing, climbing onto the stage an then throwing themselves back off it, and hollering every word as if their lives depended on it. Treays took such fervour in his stride. Just another night out for this talented geezer from the other side of the world.

Alec Ounsworth - Mo Beauty

Alec Ounsworth is perhaps not an immediately recognisable name, but you would know him better as the frontman of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, who are currently in-hiatus. For Mo Beauty, the Philadelphian headed to New Orleans to record with a bunch of local session legends, including George Porter Jr. on bass, Stanton Moore on drums and Robert Walter on keys.

Mo Beauty offers some fine arrangements and is wonderfully produced by Steve Berlin, of Los Lobos fame. There’s instrumentalism aplenty on the album, including pianos, brass and pedal steel guitars, but the songs never feels cluttered and the mood varies nicely throughout. Bones in the Grave offers an unsettling atmosphere, Idiots in the Rain is jaunty and things are pared back when necessary too, like on outstanding track, Holy, Holy, Holy Moses (song for New Orleans), which is a beautiful, sorrowful acoustic number.

Perhaps a problem though is Ounsworth’s vocal. It certainly doesn’t sound like the kind of voice that one would expect to lead a band of New Orleans’ finest musicians. If you’re a fan of CYHSY, then you’re already in happy territory with Ounsworth’s unique singing style, and can live with the fact that he sounds a bit like a yelping David Byrne, but the uninitiated may find it to be a great big obstacle of whininess that is hard to hurdle.

Mo Beauty is always interesting - certainly more so than Clap Your Hands - and has occasional moments that are quite lovely, but your enjoyment will ultimately hinge on just what you think of that distinctive vocal.