Reviewed on Saturday January 16 (photo by Katrina Clarke)
Given there were almost three hours between the opening note played by her first support and the moment Courtney Barnett sent her final song flying into its composite pieces, her gig at the Enmore Theatre could easily have been a drag. But instead it was a showcase of this country’s considerable talents: a rousing chant led by Australia’s most important voices.
Striking out in solo mode, The Smith Street Band’s Wil Wagner opened the night with a nuanced and emotional set, each of his songs an ounce of salt rubbed into the same throbbing wound. Following fast on his heels, Cloud Control blasted through a series of whisky- and honey-soaked pop melodies, proving to be sweet but never saccharine, and angular but never angsty.
Then it was Courtney Barnett’s turn. For those fans who have seen her perform on multiple occasions, each time to a bigger audience, it was a curiously emotional experience to hear the deafening cry that went up when she emerged. Barnett has become a genuine rock star, and though that is what we always wanted for her, it is no less touching to see it actually happen.
As ever she was fierce and poetic, but never so much that she distanced herself from her audience. Barnett’s armour is home-made, constructed from crushed VB cans: real, and free of pretence. ‘Elevator Operator’ was played with grungy, fervent abandon, but especially impressive was new addition to the set ‘Boxing Day Blues (Revisited)’.
A barbed wire guitar solo in the centre of ‘Small Poppies’ had some comparing Barnett to a host of rock’n’roll influences. But Barnett’s gifts are hers and hers alone: there is no need to claim real estate on such talents. One day a lazy critic will be calling the next up-and-comer ‘Barnett-esque’.
Over the course of the night, one also got the sense that personal histories were being made. It might be a stretch to borrow the legendary quote written about The Velvet Underground and suggest everyone in attendance will go on to form a band of their own – there were a lot of people in the Enmore Theatre, after all. But it was impossible to miss the look in the eyes of the gig’s younger attendees as they filed out. It was the look you get when you realise that the answer to your problems has been in front of you all along. A look that says, ‘I get it now.’
