Why live music matters

By Thomas Feng

April 24^th, 2019

Reconnecting with an old friend

I hadn't seen Emily in over 10 years. She was a good friend of mine in primary school, but we lost touch after attending a high school far-away and not keeping up with anyone after uni.

She put a call-out on social media if anyone would have her around for a house-gig and I reached out because what else could be more wholesome than a private acoustic session?

I had attended a few backyard gigs in my time, including the infamous summer of 2017 when we sat out the back of Evermore's house and Meg fed grapes to C-grade Australian celebrity Ben Abraham.

I whimsically decorated the apartment in fairylights to give the room a golden glow and invited a handful of dear friends to eat pasta, chat and listen to her play.

After a decade of not seeing each other, hearing Emily sing songs and share the stories behind them was a idyllic way to catch-up quickly.

It led to everybody collectively to share stories of creativity, of ambition, of how we change over time.

A tranquil and tender hush could be felt in the room after she dazzled us with each acoustic tune.

Check out her stuff here.

Discovering a new band

You can never be sure when you come to see support acts at small gigs.

But Hemm, the support act for Two People at The Workers Club were a hit. The room filled up (unusual for a support act) halfway into the set and people are wanting to come in from the bar.

Michelle and I were fortunate to be early and stand right up the front while they smoked the room with their avant-garde electronic pop music.

Their infusion of psychodelic sound with folk story-telling blended into songs which built up to a point of tension and left you clinging onto a moment.

A dark rave

A sweaty, packed, sold-out bandroom for Two People was accentuated by the fiery lights and enthusiastic dancing. Ironically there were three people on stage, with an additional drummer supporting the lead singer-guitarist and the producer.

Their passionate, immersive sound overwhelmed and thrusted you head on into a feeling which forcibly moved you to move.

As soon as the saxophone yearned in the lead single "I'm Tied, To You", the room turned into a dark rave which danced late into the night until the wine bars of Gertrude Street closed their doors.

My favourite venue

Hidden out the back of a car-park in Brunswick by the train tracks is Howler, my favourite music venue in Melbourne which also happens to be an excellent afternoon drinking hole.

I have managed to see crowd favourites such as Gretta Ray and Lisa Mitchell here, but also the likes of Kiasmos and Mikhail Paskalev.

It's an intimate bandroom with a low and wide stage which allows everybody to see the acts properly, excellent sound quality and a capacity of 500 people that means you feel like you're in on small secret that others are missing out on.

A transcendent experience

It seemed fitting when a cloud of marijuana smoke covered the room immediately when dream-pop duo Beach House came onto stage.

"Love each other and support one another" was the extent of lead singer Victoria's on-stage banter throughout the 90 minute set.

I had been listening to Beach House's Depression Cherry album on-repeat in the weeks leading up, forgetting that they had already released three other albums and compilations in that time.

But they would play a crowd-pleasing mix of old and new songs.

And I would sway slowly with my eyes closed, with short flashbacks to some of the loveliest moments of my life re-appearing in my mind.

And when I opened my eyes to a starry night, my only grip on reality was the squeeze of my own hands on my dimpled cheeks, in awe of their music and artistic expression.

And oh how suddenly the tears fell, how they fell quietly and gently amidst a crowd of thousands of faces, how they comforted me and cracked a transcendent smile on my face.