When I heard Damon Albarn was touring a new solo album with some young faultless session band, probably conveniently spiced with mega-hits as he pleases the aging crowd and counts their dollars, I couldn’t help but fear one of my favourite artists had crossed into the washed up-zone. Yet after blasting the newly released Everyday Robots into my ears for three days straight, followed by every single Gorillaz and Blur song every released in reverse chronological order spanning 25 years, I knew it wasn’t true. Damon Albarn just has a lot to give.
Rolling into The Palais Theatre nice and early, the bouncer was confused but didn’t question the fact that I had only an iPad mini, a tub of hummus and a bag of carrots. I guess he assumed that’s how I roll. I joined the sparsely seated crowd to check out the support act Fraser A Gorman, fresh off a national tour with C.W. Stoneking.
Despite being a little feller on a very large stage, Gorman held the space comfortably with support from lead guitarist Davey Lane. The duo delivered their down-to-earth tunes to the small but attentive crowd as if they were merely two blokes telling you a story in some pub. The simple, soulful set washed down beautifully with my dip as I enjoyed the seating that was quickly being filled with a massively diverse range of punters.
Albarn’s entire career was visible in the people piling into the theatre. It was a fairly 50-50 mix of those who knew what Rage was and those who didn’t. And possibly a few fans of Damon’s Chinese Opera, which I genuinely hoped to hear a few songs from. As his band strutted onstage, the crowd cheered as one for whatever it was they were here to see.
The single coolest man I’ve ever seen kicked off the set with a monstrous bass line, and basically didn’t stop. As the usually session band for both the Gorillaz and Albarn’s numerous other projects, the band were beyond tight, beyond cool and barely broke a sweat. The man himself casually entered the stage with a melodica and decades of music merged together with the timeless sound of his voice. Paced perfectly with highly-strung bad ass rock outs, the set swept through old stuff, new stuff and stuff in the middle. The Blur songs being tastefully delivered solo, with only a piano, my fears of rock-star-wash-uppery were quelled by the simple fact Damon Albarn was still very much a working artist.
At some point there was a Tasmanian gospel choir, an Icelandic trumpet boy and a simply fantastic substitute rap by Australian artist Remi for the verses of Gorillaz’ Clint Eastwood. The set was epic on the part of the incredible band, surprisingly humble on the part of Albarn himself, and an all around rollercoaster ride through an amazing musician’s lengthy (and still growing) body of work. With a roaring applause for an encore, I barely had time to finish off my carrot.
BY JAKE MCGOVERN
Photo by Emily Day
Loved: A drummer with five snare drums.
Hated: Damon Albarn’s teeth glinting creepily in the lights.
Drank: Hummus.
