All tribute shows risk being let down by inconsistent quality, frequent stage changes or indifferent performers. Tagging tonight’s honorary, Kim Salmon, a legend meant the stakes were high. But thankfully, the other word in the show’s heading was aptly represented. Not only is Salmon still alive – he was here in the crowd keenly observing his life being re-interpreted through the limbs and lungs of others – his songs promote a constructive energy.
Early on we had local three-piece Teenage Libido, whose shtick is closer to grunting adolescence, rather than swaggering libido. The band proved perfectly suited to some of Salmon’s more primal numbers (including I’ll Be Around from the Mudhoney LP), which revealed that even when it’s ugly rock music, this guy writes good tunes.
If we’re to accept Salmon’s reputation as a precursor to grunge, it made sense for local ‘90s-adherent Ali E to show her affection. Forget about grunge though; with help from a backing vocalist, E gave us a two-song set of enchanting alt-country balladry.
While he’s a marvelously prolific writer, only a select handful of Salmon’s compositions have garnered widespread acclaim. Expectations were inevitably raised for the performance of any of these. After some well-handled Darling Downs numbers, Midnight Scavengers unfortunately missed the envisioned bar when it came to the Scientists classic, Swampland.
The second honorary of this series, Spencer P. Jones arrived to inject some slide guitar into Suzie Stapleton’s elegant performance. Jones then took centre stage for a loving rendition of one of Salmon’s contributions to Beasts of Bourbon. Next up it was Mick Harvey’s turn to dish out a few solo numbers. Throughout his career Harvey’s largely devoted himself to arranging and producing the ideas of others, so it was no surprise he slipped effortlessly into a stripped back version of Salmon’s (I Was A) Lord of Darkness.
The hottest anticipation of the night was for the three-piece combination of The Drones frontman Gareth Liddiard, Surrealists bassist Brian Hooper and Mick Harvey on drums. This is an impressive outfit on paper, but that didn’t quite prepare you for how striking they were in action. Powered by Liddiard’s skin-peeling howl, the trio stormed through a set of Surrealists songs. The performance dispatched an unkempt immediacy, which warranted joining the fan club, buying all the records and a t-shirt.
The thrills of the Liddiard/Hooper/Harvey set weren’t down to the canonical status of the songs or the respective achievements of the participating personnel. It was a bloody good display of curious songcraft, delivered with full-blooded force. And that’s what characterised this whole event. It wasn’t about knowing the songs back to front (for either audience or musician), it was about experiencing a diverse succession of Salmon’s compositions, charged full of life, right there in front of you.
BY AUGUSTUS WELBY
Loved: This happened at the Tote.
Hated: The extensive stage-changing time.
Drank: Tins and bottles.
