First time at the Factory Theatre, and I'll admit there's a little thrill in rocking up somewhere new. It's a proper Marrickville job: an old industrial site turned into a small precinct with a few venues tucked away, and a beer garden out front that's just edgy enough to remind you which postcode you're in. Flying solo tonight, no Jim.
When I booked I'd worried "theatre" meant velvet seats and a stern usher. It doesn't. It's a big room with rows of chairs set out for the night. You could've stood up the back with a beer and been very happy. I skipped the support and wandered in once the room was full and buzzing. No preamble, straight into the full Don Walker experience.
Some context on expectations. I've seen Don with Cold Chisel a few times, with Tex, Don and Charlie a few times, and on his own. His solo tour when I was living in Melbourne a couple of years back was one of my highlights of that year. I dragged along a couple of mates who'd never seen him solo, and they walked out genuinely taken aback. Between Don and Paul Kelly, I reckon you've got the best songwriters this country's produced. So yes, I walked in carrying a modicum of expectation.
He opened with "Harry Was a Bad Bugger." Now, that's a song I've had more than a passing association with over the years. Let's just say there was a stretch of my life when a few people thought the shoe fit. (No bodies, I promise.) So hearing it as the first song of the night landed for more reasons than one.
Some context on expectations. I've seen Don with Cold Chisel a few times, with Tex, Don and Charlie a few times, and on his own. His solo tour when I was living in Melbourne a couple of years back was one of my highlights of that year. I dragged along a couple of mates who'd never seen him solo, and they walked out genuinely taken aback. Between Don and Paul Kelly, I reckon you've got the best songwriters this country's produced. So yes, I walked in carrying a modicum of expectation.
He opened with "Harry Was a Bad Bugger." Now, that's a song I've had more than a passing association with over the years. Let's just say there was a stretch of my life when a few people thought the shoe fit. (No bodies, I promise.) So hearing it as the first song of the night landed for more reasons than one.
Later we got "Sitting in a Bar," another one from the Tex, Don and Charlie days, and it was right at home in a room where half the crowd had a drink in hand.
Don was clearly under the weather, sniffling and working a handkerchief for a good chunk of the evening. Did it slow him down? No. Did it stop him from delivering every song the room wanted? Definitely not. He's a consummate professional. He walks out, locks in with the band, and you can see the attitude: this is the gig tonight, these people paid their hard-earned, and we're going to give them our best.
The band were tight. The real colour came from the Harmonettes, his three backing singers, who also feature on the new album. Their harmonies were beautiful and melodic and suited his style perfectly. They took me straight back to the Leonard Cohen shows I was lucky enough to catch before he passed, with the Webb Sisters and Sharon Robinson behind him. It wasn't that Cohen was a soul-blues act, but those backing vocals carried that old soul, bluesy air, and the Harmonettes had it too.
An unexpected pleasure: the new songs off Love Songs had people laughing out loud at the lines. I'd listened to the album several times (hadn't bought it yet, mind), so I knew the punchlines were coming. Clearly plenty of fans in the room hadn't, and they were catching the jokes fresh, song after song. No judgement from me. It was just a lovely reminder of how sharp his writing still is.
"Let's All Get Together" was another highlight, with a real samba lilt, horns underneath and a proper party vibe that lifted the whole room. It had that familiar feeling of a song you know without quite remembering where from. A bit of digging afterwards explained it: Kate Ceberano, James Blundell and Ian Moss had all recorded it back in the 2000s.
Just before the encore he played "The Healing Power of Helpless Laughter," one of my favourite songs of all time. Whenever anyone plays it, I'm a happy man.
He closed with "Darwin," the epic that finishes the new album. That morning I'd sent the song to a mate who used to live up there with a note: "I'll be thinking of you, mate." His reply: "I lasted about seven seconds and I hated it." Which tells you something about Don Walker. Most people love him, and some just don't get it. To be fair to my mate, he loved Cold Chisel back in the day, so I know there's a soft spot in there somewhere. Seven seconds of a fourteen-minute song is a brave review all the same.
Don delivered, as Don always does.
JV
No comments:
Post a Comment