Minutes before entering Dark Mofo’s Afterlife event, I finished reading Yukio Mishima’s The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea. Mishima’s opulent prose makes it a beautiful read, but the coverage of failed hopes and radical evil frequently subvert the romantic conclusions one’s tempted to draw. Anyhow, it was an apt entrée to Afterlife. Total Control, Kirin J Callinan and HTRK are all artful songwriters, smarter than your average rockers, who temper beautiful song craft with perverse darkness and notes of discord.
The most subdued of tonight’s performers, HTRK were up first with a set derived exclusively from their latest (and best) LP, Psychic 9-5 Club. The record’s a mostly electronic work that relies on subtlety and icy intimacy. For its live execution, HTRK’s two constituents stood side-by-side behind a keyboards-and-effects station to disperse fragrances from a place that felt mysteriously out of reach. Indeed, despite their physical closeness, Jonnine Standish and Nigel Yang barely even acknowledged one another. Still, the two individuals worked together to build consistently creeping moods, which suggested sensuality rather than prescribed it.
Up next was Kirin J Callinan, who makes obnoxiously physical music. Callinan and his three onstage companions effortlessly gripped the Odeon Theatre with an absolutely novel melding of depraved Euro dance, industrial rock and ‘80s power balladry. Drummer Dave Jenkins functions as a human drum machine, while keyboard player Tex Crick is a frighteningly obedient mini-Callinan.
But attention was principally centred on the ridiculously coiffured man in the middle. While Callinan often plays around with things freakish and absurd, songs such as Victoria M. and Halo showed he can convincingly hit anthemic highs (and proved his brutal Australian intonation is no mere shield). Without recourse to hyperbole, it’s safe to say there’s no one else in the world quite like Kirin J Callinan.
Closing out the event was Melbourne quasi-supergroup, Total Control. Nevermind that the band’s new record, Typical System, is replete with pristine synths, horns and classic post-punk-meets-new-wave melodies. Onstage they maintain their assaulting presence. A barrage of angered baritone from Dan Stewart, and forcible disturbance from his guitar playing and drumming henchmen, whipped everyone to attention. Total Control’s influences might be easy to pick (Wire, Devo, Joy Division) but a tribute act they ain’t. The reason for this is the absolute – nigh-on tragic – necessity they convey. Yes there’s been bands who have issued a similar sound before now, but utilising this familiar voice, Total Control summon their own maligned reality.
From See More Glass to Retiree and Expensive Dog, the setlist was a relentless display of passion, which could have lasted all night.
BY AUGUSTUS WELBY
Loved: All Austrayan, all amazin’.
Hated: Life?
Drank: Moo Brew.
