_The Dresden Dolls, The Bedroom Philosopher, The Jane Austen Argument @ The Forum Melbourne (08/01/2012)
__
On Sunday the
8th of January, while most of Melbourne’s populace were thrusting their heads
infront of whining fans, over two thousand music fans braved Melbourne’s heat,
waiting with bated breath ‘til The Dresden Dolls emerged from their [supposedly] air-conditioned
caves.
You could taste the anticipation in the air. The Dresden Dolls haven’t played in Australia since 2006. Not to mention, the bands future has been an enigmatic hiatus for some time now. Since then, Amanda Palmer had been flirting with a solo career while Brian Viglione collaborated with an array of musical groups. Seeing them play would be like witnessing an animal you thought to be extinct in the wild: beautiful, yet somehow unimaginable.
The Jane Austen Argument would grace the stage first. Now here, I use the word ‘grace’ quite literally, being as it may that Tom Dickins ventured out with a jacket complete with black angel wings, while the beautiful Jen Kingwell armed herself with Amanda Palmers own rainbow kimono. All Joan Rivers commentary aside, the Jane Austen Argument were like the Dresden Dolls’ younger, more melancholically innocent sister. The affect they had over the audience is a power that is endangered in Melbourne’s underground music scene and not to be trifled with.
Placing a lighter note upon the room was The Bedroom Philosopher: a band that accomplished the unfathomable task of changing every individual’s opinion regarding the suburb of Northcote and the [arguable] honesty of tram inspectors. All I kept thinking as Justin Heazlewood kept ‘philosophizing’ was how on earth his orchestra [as he so aptly named] did not submit into bouts of roaring laughter throughout his song concerning acronyms – a talent that remains inconceivable to this day.
And then the moment we had been waiting six long years for, finally arrived as Brian and Amanda made their way onstage. Brian made a congratulatory nod to hearing loss by screaming into the mike and Amanda sat pleasantly next to a keyboard, not disappointing testosterone levels by donning a black bra and pants. Surprisingly, from the third row I could still see the looming hickey on Amanda’s neck - a token of gratitude from a more-than-enthusiastic fan from the Sydney concert the night prior.
The band made note to sprinkle the set with covers that ranged from 'The Mercy Seat' by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds to the Black Sabbath classic 'War Pigs.' Brian and Amanda even switched roles when they serenaded the audience with’ ‘(You Gotta) Fight for Your Right (To Party!)’ – a song that proved two things:
1. That Amanda Palmer can certainly play drums.
2. That adrenaline levels are directly correlated to Beastie Boys records.
That does not mean to say that the greatest hits were avoided: ‘Coin Operated Boy’, ‘Girl Anachronism’ and ‘Dirty Business’ were clear favourites judging by the audience’s cheers. Perhaps what stood out from the rest was ‘Delilah’, which saw the return of The Jane Austen Argument’s Jen Kingwell. The song was played out as a commentary against Jen and Amanda with Brian complementing on drums. As was only human, Jen seemed slightly nervous to attempt the classic but with the praise of the audience, along with Amanda’s beaming smile and kisses towards the end, it was evident that she experienced a moment that neither her, nor her audience, would ever forget.
You could taste the anticipation in the air. The Dresden Dolls haven’t played in Australia since 2006. Not to mention, the bands future has been an enigmatic hiatus for some time now. Since then, Amanda Palmer had been flirting with a solo career while Brian Viglione collaborated with an array of musical groups. Seeing them play would be like witnessing an animal you thought to be extinct in the wild: beautiful, yet somehow unimaginable.
The Jane Austen Argument would grace the stage first. Now here, I use the word ‘grace’ quite literally, being as it may that Tom Dickins ventured out with a jacket complete with black angel wings, while the beautiful Jen Kingwell armed herself with Amanda Palmers own rainbow kimono. All Joan Rivers commentary aside, the Jane Austen Argument were like the Dresden Dolls’ younger, more melancholically innocent sister. The affect they had over the audience is a power that is endangered in Melbourne’s underground music scene and not to be trifled with.
Placing a lighter note upon the room was The Bedroom Philosopher: a band that accomplished the unfathomable task of changing every individual’s opinion regarding the suburb of Northcote and the [arguable] honesty of tram inspectors. All I kept thinking as Justin Heazlewood kept ‘philosophizing’ was how on earth his orchestra [as he so aptly named] did not submit into bouts of roaring laughter throughout his song concerning acronyms – a talent that remains inconceivable to this day.
And then the moment we had been waiting six long years for, finally arrived as Brian and Amanda made their way onstage. Brian made a congratulatory nod to hearing loss by screaming into the mike and Amanda sat pleasantly next to a keyboard, not disappointing testosterone levels by donning a black bra and pants. Surprisingly, from the third row I could still see the looming hickey on Amanda’s neck - a token of gratitude from a more-than-enthusiastic fan from the Sydney concert the night prior.
The band made note to sprinkle the set with covers that ranged from 'The Mercy Seat' by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds to the Black Sabbath classic 'War Pigs.' Brian and Amanda even switched roles when they serenaded the audience with’ ‘(You Gotta) Fight for Your Right (To Party!)’ – a song that proved two things:
1. That Amanda Palmer can certainly play drums.
2. That adrenaline levels are directly correlated to Beastie Boys records.
That does not mean to say that the greatest hits were avoided: ‘Coin Operated Boy’, ‘Girl Anachronism’ and ‘Dirty Business’ were clear favourites judging by the audience’s cheers. Perhaps what stood out from the rest was ‘Delilah’, which saw the return of The Jane Austen Argument’s Jen Kingwell. The song was played out as a commentary against Jen and Amanda with Brian complementing on drums. As was only human, Jen seemed slightly nervous to attempt the classic but with the praise of the audience, along with Amanda’s beaming smile and kisses towards the end, it was evident that she experienced a moment that neither her, nor her audience, would ever forget.
_ On the same thread of unforgettable moments was Brian – a born entertainer in
every sense of the word. Within every drumbeat, one can see the passion that
exuded from his very soul. His shining moment was in ‘Modern Moonlight’ where I distinctly remember turning to
the people beside me just to see if my face of awe matched their own. Amanda
was no less passionate - bringing an intensity and fervor to ‘Mrs O’ that cannot be grasped within an audio
recording. It was clear by the gaped mouths and hush during ‘Ultima
Esperanza’ that the
crowd fell hopelessly and unconditionally in love with her.
Yet all flattery pushed aside, there were a few notable songs that got swept aside in order to fit room for the covers [‘Night Reconnaissance’ and ‘Shores of California’ being the most noticeably missed by this reviewer]. In addition, this feeds to irony for my next negative: the two and a half to three hour set length. Whilst the long set was a gift to hardcore fans, this nevertheless proved to be a futile relationship with Melbourne’s public transport system. Despite running against the antagonistic Melbourne train system, The Dresden Dolls were a true delight to the senses and a phenomenal way to kick off the live music year for 2012. It should be noted that The Dresden Dolls 2012 tour was made possible by the fans. Were it not for word of mouth, a support for live music and a love for this gifted duo, the tour would not have been possible. |
_After a
complicated hiatus, they still flaunt their uncanny power of mystification over
an audience, leaving us more in love with this band than ever before.
Victoria Tedeschi
Victoria Tedeschi