Live

Rip It Up, Issue 241, 1 September 1997, Page 36

Live

OMC Whiskey Au GoGo, Hollywood, USA, August 9. Given that they are the conquering heroes of New Zealand pop (no offence to Crowded House, but everyone thought they were Australian anyway) it was sort of my patriotic duty to go see this show, and right now I’m prepared to admit I was very pleasantly surprised. Firstly, the Whiskey was pretty much packed to the gills, no mean feat on a Friday night with Supergrass playing across town. Secondly, the crowd was by

no means a bunch of ex-pats on a nostalgia trip or record company flacks, it was predominantly the young, music buying populace of Los Angeles. Thirdly, the band were damn good. Sure, the album is radio friendly summer pop, but the live show gave it some real bite and depth. After a fine little DJ set from Manuel Bundy, the band trooped on stage and just tore into it. Pauly came on like a real soul man on the first song (the guy has a good voice on him that I hope he’ll use a lot more), and from there on in had the crowd in the palm of his

hand. The band gave him a very solid platform to work from; Nathan Haines casually proved why samples aren’t totally necessary when you have competent musicians, and backing vocalist Taisha did a beautiful, slinky job of filling out the vocal sound while Pauly did his mumblerap stuff. Even Bundy was seen to wave percussion instruments around excitedly. With a live bassist and keyboards filling it out, they were able to really play around. From solid funk with an O’Jays bassline that had the crowd howling, to drum ‘n’ bass beats with the soul vocal schtik over the top, they kept the show flowing, and the crowd moving, then hit everyone with the hits in a

very unconcerned manner. Naturally the kids went silly, drowned Pauly out on ‘that song’and then it was over. Straight up entertainment that hit home — by the end of the night even the boys who had obviously been dragged along by their girlfriends were getting a little funky, and you can’t ask for more than that. Given the increased quality of ‘dance’ music that’s coming out of New Zealand, it’s nice to see our pop ambassador holding up his end of the bargain by keeping things sharp. KIRK GEE PAUL KELLY Mandelay Entertainment Centre, Auckland, August 14. Mandelay memories — it seems a number of people here tonight have got them. “I spewed here when I was 15”, says my friend Nicky J, proudly. “It was at my school ball.” But there’s no such niceties going on this evening; the Paul Kelly experience is happening at the Newmarket venue, simply because Kelly despises playing the Powerstation. Immediately, Kelly appeared in a jolly mood, hitting the stage with his four-piece band (guitar, bass, drums, and wurlitzer organ), Jtllll, |I»I« WT ' I grinning a big one, and belting out ‘Dumb Things’ to open a greatest hits set that rarely ’ dipped below exceptional. Credit where credit’s due — the quality of the performance was as wwiir , 'i . 11 . pnwigrß .'wiiffl much the cracking band in attendance, as it was Kelly InflVTiiHrTßHaaMwhiMMwpMrTWWßMmpLr wringing every lyric out of old faves such as ‘When I First Met Your Ma’ and ‘Careless’, with his rich, weathered voice. Added rock oomph on Sweet Guy was the cue for a hideous display of bad, middle-aged whitemale dancing, while a cover of Hot Chocolate’s ‘lt Started With a Kiss’ saw a solitary

soul raise a lighter. ‘Before too Long’ preceded three encores including, ‘We Started a Fire’, with Kelly taking the song into an extended organic-dub feel for over five minutes, prompting a hefty exodus of punters. Once Kelly was gone for good, disappointments were exposed; no ‘You Can Put. Your Shoes Under My Bed’, and no ‘From Little Things Big Things Grow’, but really that’s a petty complaint, for Kelly and band pulled, a scorcher out of the bag, and the smiles, on stage and off, said it all. JOHN RUSSELL PAUL ÜBANA JONES Atomic Cafe, Auckland, August 20. A H ‘Be early’, said the poster, and I ignored it, arriving in time to join half a dozen fellow latecomers, clustered outside the packed Atomic on Ponsonby Road, peering in at Paul Übana Jones through the windows. The view wasn’t premium, but fortunately the cafe door was open, ensuring the sound of |rr. —— lilwhiiiiiiiM Jones and his acoustic guitar floated outside unhindered. In short, the man is magic. He performed two 40 minute sets of folk tunes, ballads, and blues stompers, and held his audience spellbound for every single second. When Jones hits a groove, his eyes roll back until only the whites are visible and his fingers cut loose on the guitar, as if operating by natural instinct, not conscious thought. The last song before the first break was a rendition of John Mayall’s ‘Bind Eyes’. Jones plays it with, I swear, two melodies and two rhythms happening simultaneously. Its stunning, and the whoops of delight from the crowd are equal measures of enjoyment and disbelief.

For part of the second set, Jones is joined by Johnny

Fleury and his Chapman stick — who adds eerie sounds and dubby rhythms — and “Naomi from Hawkes Bay” on tambourine, who eventually gives up trying to match a steady beat with Jones’ wild guitar antics. Later, the audience is hushed for three gorgeous ballads — ‘Looking For Your Love’, ‘The River in Me’, and ‘Renaissance’ — and Jones gives his fingers time-out, letting his sandpaper voice take the spotlight. Then, jokingly ignoring the pleas for ‘Ragga’, he unleashes a maniacal version of Gershwin’s ‘Summertime’ for his final encore, then unplugs. The spell is broken, but not forgotten, and regardless of whether you were inside the Atomic or not, it was one hell of a special night to be a part of. JOHN RUSSELL