Chairlift @ East Brunswick Club, Melbourne (07/02/2012)
Supporting their 2012 album, Something, New York electropop duo Chairlift brought their backing band and playful repertoire to Australia as part of St. Jerome’s Laneway Festival. Melbourne’s soon-to-be dormant East Brunswick Club played host to one of only two Australian sideshows. Despite their stunning performance and gorgeous recent album, Chairlift surprisingly struggled to capture the audience’s attention, as the crowd’s ‘too cool’ attitude stole the show
In what must be an omen, the band steps onto stage to the sounds of ‘Mr. Sandman’. Sleepy aspirations aside, the sudden eruption in Sidewalk Safari would surely shake the crowd from their slumbers. Apparently not. Vocalist, Caroline Polachek, encourages the crowd to clap along to the erratic beat, yet not one person abides. She’s visibly surprised by the reluctant gathering of supposed ‘fans’ in front of her, but doesn’t let it hinder her performance for more than a moment. Her heavenly voice smoothly recites her bizarre lyrics, swinging through a melody the sprawls out into directions unexpected.
The level of audience conversation is astounding. Unless you’re standing at the foot of the stage, it’s likely that the persistent chatting of the crowd is overpowering the band. Hardly anyone would notice, however, as it seems everyone is too distracted by their own conversations. Perhaps it’s the sleepy vibe of the music, or the fact that each song seems to blend somewhat indistinguishably into the next. Maybe we’ve all exhausted our live music quotas for the past two weeks, as we’re approaching the end of the biggest fortnight of the year for festivals and sideshows. Despite the band’s efforts and the splendid sounds emanating from the stage, the crowd is frustratingly reluctant to even pay attention. Why spend money on a ticket if you’re going to waste the night talking to the person next to you?
The mesmerising francophone escapade that is Le Flying Saucer Hat, featuring gorgeous panting in the chorus, is the unexpected highlight of the set. With an abrupt key change mid-chorus, this whimsical track is charmingly unpredictable, yet it still fails to properly capture the audience’s attention. There’s something seriously wrong when a stunning woman can sing entrancing psychedelic electro-pop in French and still can’t get a small room of people to momentarily abandon their idle chitchat and look at the stage. “Almost everything that we’re playing tonight is off our new record, which came out a week and half ago” declares the beguiling frontwoman. The album is exquisite and tonight’s renditions are flawless. Still, one can’t help but question why most of the audience didn't stay home and just throw on the CD.
“This song is about Australia” announces Polachek, introducing the intoxicating Planet Health. ‘This next song is also about Australia’ jokes her partner in crime, Patrick Wimberly, as they launch into Bruises. This trackis responsible for finally eliciting the first notable crowd reaction of the evening. A few members of the audience bop in time to the sugary pop song, but it’s the subsequent enthusiastic applause that suggests a few more people had paid attention to this song.
Catchy single, I Belong In Your Arms, with its delightfully unconventional melodies, gorgeous grooving bassline and ethereal electronic chimes, surprisingly leaves the crowd begging for more. It’s the perfect closer, as the crowd seems shocked that the set ends so early. Of course, they return for an encore of two songs. “I was trying to get the guys to take off their shirts” reveals Polachek, in what we assume would have been an effort to draw the crowd’s attention to the stage. Out of seeming frustration, she then encourages the crowd to dance to the final song. “If you guys would like to dance, this is probably a good time to do it” she sighs, as they launch into Amanaemonesia. She treats the crowd to a spectacle of her spirited dance-moves, as she sharply cuts across the stage; her arms slicing like scissors. Alas, the audience is not inspired by this and the perfect dancing pace of the song is wasted on the lifeless crowd.
Are Melbourne audiences simply too cool or too lazy to display any kind of enthusiasm at gigs? The persistent nonchalant attitudes at live events, particularly those by Triple J hyped bands, are almost an insult to the artists. When the foremost critique of a gig is that the audience was dull, it’s an impressive feat on the audience’s part. Chairlift’s musicality and performance is not in question here. They were simply exquisite tonight, and the audience’s restrained response should not be considered a comment on their value as performers. Chairlift played an outstanding set to a room of people who may as well have had their backs to the stage, or better yet, stayed home.
Lara Moates
In what must be an omen, the band steps onto stage to the sounds of ‘Mr. Sandman’. Sleepy aspirations aside, the sudden eruption in Sidewalk Safari would surely shake the crowd from their slumbers. Apparently not. Vocalist, Caroline Polachek, encourages the crowd to clap along to the erratic beat, yet not one person abides. She’s visibly surprised by the reluctant gathering of supposed ‘fans’ in front of her, but doesn’t let it hinder her performance for more than a moment. Her heavenly voice smoothly recites her bizarre lyrics, swinging through a melody the sprawls out into directions unexpected.
The level of audience conversation is astounding. Unless you’re standing at the foot of the stage, it’s likely that the persistent chatting of the crowd is overpowering the band. Hardly anyone would notice, however, as it seems everyone is too distracted by their own conversations. Perhaps it’s the sleepy vibe of the music, or the fact that each song seems to blend somewhat indistinguishably into the next. Maybe we’ve all exhausted our live music quotas for the past two weeks, as we’re approaching the end of the biggest fortnight of the year for festivals and sideshows. Despite the band’s efforts and the splendid sounds emanating from the stage, the crowd is frustratingly reluctant to even pay attention. Why spend money on a ticket if you’re going to waste the night talking to the person next to you?
The mesmerising francophone escapade that is Le Flying Saucer Hat, featuring gorgeous panting in the chorus, is the unexpected highlight of the set. With an abrupt key change mid-chorus, this whimsical track is charmingly unpredictable, yet it still fails to properly capture the audience’s attention. There’s something seriously wrong when a stunning woman can sing entrancing psychedelic electro-pop in French and still can’t get a small room of people to momentarily abandon their idle chitchat and look at the stage. “Almost everything that we’re playing tonight is off our new record, which came out a week and half ago” declares the beguiling frontwoman. The album is exquisite and tonight’s renditions are flawless. Still, one can’t help but question why most of the audience didn't stay home and just throw on the CD.
“This song is about Australia” announces Polachek, introducing the intoxicating Planet Health. ‘This next song is also about Australia’ jokes her partner in crime, Patrick Wimberly, as they launch into Bruises. This trackis responsible for finally eliciting the first notable crowd reaction of the evening. A few members of the audience bop in time to the sugary pop song, but it’s the subsequent enthusiastic applause that suggests a few more people had paid attention to this song.
Catchy single, I Belong In Your Arms, with its delightfully unconventional melodies, gorgeous grooving bassline and ethereal electronic chimes, surprisingly leaves the crowd begging for more. It’s the perfect closer, as the crowd seems shocked that the set ends so early. Of course, they return for an encore of two songs. “I was trying to get the guys to take off their shirts” reveals Polachek, in what we assume would have been an effort to draw the crowd’s attention to the stage. Out of seeming frustration, she then encourages the crowd to dance to the final song. “If you guys would like to dance, this is probably a good time to do it” she sighs, as they launch into Amanaemonesia. She treats the crowd to a spectacle of her spirited dance-moves, as she sharply cuts across the stage; her arms slicing like scissors. Alas, the audience is not inspired by this and the perfect dancing pace of the song is wasted on the lifeless crowd.
Are Melbourne audiences simply too cool or too lazy to display any kind of enthusiasm at gigs? The persistent nonchalant attitudes at live events, particularly those by Triple J hyped bands, are almost an insult to the artists. When the foremost critique of a gig is that the audience was dull, it’s an impressive feat on the audience’s part. Chairlift’s musicality and performance is not in question here. They were simply exquisite tonight, and the audience’s restrained response should not be considered a comment on their value as performers. Chairlift played an outstanding set to a room of people who may as well have had their backs to the stage, or better yet, stayed home.
Lara Moates