Montero ambled onto stage looking every bit the rag-tag band of misfits and dove straight into Adriana, the opening track of last year’s magnificent Loving Gaze album. No longer weighed down by bass, singer Ben Montero is free to wave odd birdlike gestures and pose like he’s staring at the mirror on the back of his bedroom door. Combine this with a drummer who looks like he’s been up for three days and plays with a style that can only be described as metronomic palsy, with peculiar wobbling notes from outer space from the two sets of vintage keyboards and some sparingly played and smooth guitar tones, and Montero are the closest thing you’ll get to the nuttiness of Ariel Pink without the trip to LA.
The tunes sparkled like diamonds and like all good Yacht-rock, shone brighter simply because it was played by a bunch of degenerate weirdos. Kurt Vile and the Violators on the other hand were frustrating. The tempos were sluggish for the first half of the set, squeezing all life out of classics like Waking On A Pretty Day and KV Crimes. The dude has so much potential with a huge arsenal of excellent songs, but he prefers to stick to the same set, same running order he’s been playing for the tour.
Many of the shimmering guitar lines found on his records were absent in favour of lumbering along on two comparable rhythm guitars. Things lifted slightly during the acoustic section, and Peeping Tomboy was a rare highlight. But for other songs it seemed like he had little idea about finishing the song at its climax, dragging out a fourth chorus when we all felt ready to move on. It’s disappointing when one of your favourite artists chooses style over substance, and I felt suckered that I was distracted by the Dazed and Confused hair and laidback delivery.
I suspect he doesn’t respect his own material (or his audience) enough to give the songs the proper attention they rely on and leans too heavily on effects pedals and the haircut. To this you might say I’m just too old to party and my brain has become cracked over the years, but I would reply, ‘Hey you kids best wisen up, now get the fuck offa my lawn.’
BY NICK HILTON
LOVED: Over the top classic rock drum fills.
Hated: Freak Train. I left.
Drank: Cider and Corona.
