World's End Press
Chris Chinchilla reports from Australia…

Bright Yellow, British India - The Evelyn
Bright Yellow are floppy. Floppy hair, floppy shirts and floppy rock. Their smooth, loose and laid back rock infused with psychedelic overtones is an odd and possibly bad choice for a support band and their set doesn't quite seem to be hitting the spot with the crowd at the Evelyn tonight. However the band admirably and competently press on, ignoring heckles such as "Play a song we know" at the very least gaining respect from those in the audience paying them any attention.

At the complete opposite end of the spectrum British India are so full of energy and dynamism it feels that they may literally 'blow the roof off'. Declan Melia on vocals is so full of passion, enthusiasm and charm you can't take your eyes off him as he bounds around the stage, his battered and tramp like shoes surely a testament to the grim reality of life as a professional musician when the lights are off and the crowd's gone home. Will Drummond on bass is the epitome of cool, polo neck collar up, dressed in black and catching the eyes of many a girl in the audience even if he wont acknowledge it. Nic Wilson provides a set full of blistering solos that lift the crowd in all the right places and Matt O'Gorman on drums never lets up for one second, pounding away profusely for the set's entire duration.

The band are young, and have thus far seemingly crafted an entire set of epic anthems, which may bore the pants of some older and more jaded punters but for their fans, they can do no wrong. The songs could occasionally be deemed to be verging into that dreaded 'emo' territory, but very occasionally and very slightly, so lets let them off that hook. Cast aside aspersions of age, experience and song writing maturity, the songs may all be a little similar at this point, and all be based around the same sorts of themes, but these kids know how to rock a damn sight better than some twice their age and put on an astounding show. From the second the band takes to the stage until they leave after an encore that could have quite easily lasted all night there is an electric atmosphere that few bands have the ability to generate.

Ernest Ranglin, The Trojan Horns - The Espy
This is the Trojan Horses first gig in two years and the rapidly filling Gershwin room at the Espy is enjoying the warm Summer evening that is the perfect accompaniment to the band's lilting Ska beats. Most of the band members take turns on lead vocals, injecting their own unique styles into each track, they're sharp, tight and from the crowd's reaction, obviously sorely missed in their absence.

Ernest Ranglin is a legend you've probably never heard of, at a ripe old age of 75, this small and wisened Jamaican still has the ability to pull the punters worldwide and woo a crowd a third of his age. He's played with some of the greatest names in Jamaican music including Prince Buster, The Wailers, Jimmy Cliff, The Skatellities and countless more as a session guitarist extraordinaire. His playing style is simply unique, unreplicated by any other guitar player in the world and instantly recognisable. He takes the dominant off beat of Ska and Reggae music and effortlessly weaves lilting jazz rhythms and melodies over it. He can barely be seen over the heads of the crowd, he rarely moves, speaks or changes his nonchalant facial expression, unyet his creaking fingers glide around the fingerboard, pulling out licks and progressions that consistently garner expressions of amazement and awe from the entire venue, even the members of his band look surprised by some of the tricks he pulls off. His backing band are also an amazing group of musicians, led by infamous Melbourne Saxophonist Adam Simmons they provide a brick solid backing to Ranglin, which considering they probably only had a couple of rehearsals together to cover a repertoire of over forty years is no mean feat. Ernest and his band play a set of new songs, covers and classics from his solo material including the seminal "Below the Bass line" album, everyone in the room is experiencing an amazing event as familiar and unfamiliar melodies fill the air, melodies that tickle the ears, twang the heartstrings and lift a smile from even the most frowning faces. Ernest Ranglin is a legend and no one can quite believe he's even here, but we're certainly glad he is.

Plastic Palace Alice - The Spiegel Tent
It's very disorientating to enter a venue previously visited on the other side of the world in a completely different place, but that's the wonder of the Speigel Tent.
Plastic Palace Alice are seemingly everywhere almost over night. Through some well-placed gigs, a tight press campaign and a lot of posters adorning every blank space all over town the band have transformed from Melbourne underdogs to a slick force to be reckoned with.

Tonight was always going to be an odd gig, the crowd is queuing outside long before doors and as they slowly file in and fill the 'room' you can't help but wonder who is here for the band and who is here solely for the experience. The crowd is probably a lot older than the band are used to, and whilst Plastic Palace Alice are not the heaviest or most offensive band in the world there are times when some faces in the crowd look somewhat phased. It is however a perfect setting for a band of their ilk, their dark and slightly macabre tunes and clothing that spans five decades fitting the mysterious, hallowed and gypsy like surroundings beautifully. It's a struggle for the extended line up of nine people including a three-piece string section to all fit on stage but they sound amazing, with all the subtleties and intricacies of each instrument filling the air, at times it feels as if vocalists Rob McDowell and Lise Met are struggling to hear themselves on stage as on occasion their voices wander slightly off pitch but that's more than compensated by the times their starkly different voices counter and complement each other in the time honoured tradition of all brilliant double acts. The band are all stunning musicians, obviously well rehearsed and confident with their songs and instruments, they're not obnoxious and seem to all get along with each other, smiling and enjoying their hour long set, which rubs off on the audience with a familiar and warm feeling developing. Plastic Palace Alice aren't the most strikingly original band in the world and if you're looking for rock edge, danger and anger you wont find it here, if however you're looking for a set of catchy and finely crafted songs played by skilled musicians who enjoy what they're doing and make sure you do to, then make sure you catch them before they up sticks and leave home for an endless tour of foreign festivals.

Goofang, Spun Rivals, Worlds End Press - Ding Dong
Ding Dong is sadly a little empty tonight, maybe everyone is at home performing some last minute research into the capabilities of their local party candidates. We hope.

Goofang are a perfect opening act, one of those slightly schizophrenic bands, with a set of songs that never quite stick to one genre or style but sharing a 'sound'. Some songs take a strut down funky street, others taking the well-trodden Indie-ish route whilst others wander down several paths at once. The band are still finding their feet, but they're solid, fun, play well and the variations between songs keeps the audiences attention, the perfect constituents to an opener.

Spun Rivals are rapidly rising through the ranks of Melbourne music, gigging hard, treading the boards, getting out and about and playing some damn good shows. The band concoct a blend of pop and pomposity so cleverly that frequently you don't quite notice what they're up to. A catchy and whistleable melody or chorus is hastily followed with a fat and thundering bass line or a guitar and pedal board workout that conjures a variety of ear splitting sounds. Spun Rivals admirably succeed at that toughest of tasks for a three piece, giving the impression that there's more of them on stage. Despite no backing vocals the trio of Richey, Clayton and Matt produce enough noise to fill a room, even a slightly empty room like we have tonight. Richey also swears extraneously during his inter song ramblings, which always sounds so perfect in a Scottish accent.

Worlds End Press posses some great constituent parts in the make up of a band. A fascinating bandy-legged bass player who ceaselessly dances whilst effortlessly producing slick and laid back dub like lines. Three keyboards and two guitars produce a menagerie of beautiful, sinuous and enthralling melodies and counter melodies. Finally the band members to the right hand side of the stage seem to have all confirmed to an unofficial dress code (or sub consciously have the same dress sense) all decked out in similar red and white clothing. There is however one major problem with Worlds End Press, and a lot of bands of their ilk. Whilst they produce some beautiful sounds, that isn't enough, the songs need to go somewhere and frequently they don't. You're constantly left waiting for something to happen, and generally all that does happen is that they start and finish, there's very little dynamics in structure in between with all songs and the set merging into one long set of sounds. Perhaps that's the band's intention…

Chris Chinchilla