As we were redirected through the back entrance of Transit, down a flight of stairs and straight into the pool area, I couldn’t help of but think of the same roots that lead me to meet the lead protagonist of one of the bands I was about to see. It was to be a return to the Canberra stage with family, friends and usual scene in tow, this time with the exception of calling Brisbane home.
The Blind Llamas. Many years ago a friend of mine dropped an EP in my lap. It happened to be that of his brother’s band. Fairly far removed from the pretentious art-rock music I was listening to at the time, I was attracted to their ridiculous name and catchy punk tunes. At that point I was well aware that my friend’s brother, Cascadeer lead vocalist Kieran Ryan, was capable of writing amazing songs but what I was to see this night was delivered well and truly above target.
I arrived just in time. After speaking with security as to why the front door was closed (insert rant about sound complaints, a certain ex-government building and its subsequent and feeble attempts to kill Canberra’s music scene – don’t worry, we will prevail) I walked down to see Cascadeer take to the stage with excessive cheers from the crowd. Their music was the opposite side of the same coin to the band with which they were touring; Canberra’s very own Voss. Enter into a crucible of country, folk, indie and fine storytelling. With at least two members juggling instruments during songs, the audience were given a bouquet of sounds to feast on. Including a banjo. I hate banjoes. It probably has something to do with the trauma caused by watching Deliverance when I was twelve. Thanks Dad. But Cascadeer managed to not only remove some of this stigma but also show me that this wasn’t an instrument just played by six-fingered hicks in Queensland, erm, I mean Hicks-ville, Georgia.
Rather sadly for the audience, they departed the stage. Next was Voss. They need no introduction. If you haven’t seen them then you either have a really good excuse or alternatively need to be lined up along a ditch and promptly shot. No exceptions to this.
I was once on a plane to Melbourne with a young chap who asked me what it was like to live here. He was down to see some family and found it incredibly boring in comparison. I said that it was somewhere between musical chairs and Sodom and Gomorrah; it’s fun while the music lasts but you don’t want to be there when it stops. When Toast sadly ended it felt like God was ready to smite our sorry arses for the sins we’d committed and be even happier to do again. The delightful miscreants no longer had shelter and were forced onto the lonely streets. There was no meeting ground for bands of long lost genres who found solace in their joint attempts to just make music for the sake of doing so. But Voss represents what is good about Canberra. Talented musicians banding together to write damn fine music without the pretence of what ever scene is around them.
Upon leaving Transit, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of getting back to my roots. Whether that be Australian or my own Canberran experience. What I had seen from both bands was a return to a refined simplicity. No bullshit. A night that did not hype itself or attempt to fake its authenticity, but delivered a solid dose of (as Garth would say) “Live in the Now.”
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