Benjamin Booker recorded his debut LP before he had much gig experience and before solidifying a live band. Here on his first Australia tour, which comes off the back of a year’s worth of gigging, Booker’s tunes sounded dirtier and more convincing than their recorded counterparts. His hollow body guitar was put through multiple amplifiers, which created an intoxicating haze that occasionally mimicked an organ. He was joined a bassist and drummer, who were consistently on point and also available to play violin and mandolin when needed.
Benjamin Booker can be an uneven listen. Pell-mell rock’n’roll tunes sit alongside heart on your sleeve soul ballads. Impressively in the live setting, Booker used this volatility to his advantage, dropping deeper into sentimentality and presiding over balls-out choruses with an almighty bark.
Booker’s a talented singer, no doubt, but the way he uses his voice was a deal breaker. When he put his diaphragm to work, it had a chilling effect. But his frequent recourse to whisper-sing was rather off-putting. In short bursts this is an effective tool, but when heaped on song after song, he started to sound like James Hetfield looking for the bathroom after lights out.
Nevertheless, the crowd stayed switched on and accepted sing-a-long prompts in Slow Coming and Violent Shiver, which led Booker to assert, “Melbourne is better than Sydney”. If a sold out Northcote Social Club is anything to go by, Booker has bloody well blown-up. It makes sense, mind; dirty blues-rock mightn’t be considered a surefire money turner, but plenty of acts in that category have kicked commercial goals in recent decades. Even Jack White, the genre’s 21st century ambassador, has given Booker the seal of approval. Here tonight, we could view evidence of why that is. Scruples aside, Benjamin Booker plays rock’n’roll good and proper, with no gimmickry or time wasted on perfection.
BY BILLY SHEARS
Loved: That guitar sound.
Hated: Whispering Jack.
Drank: To my dwindling health.
