Mid-way through Sand Pebbles’ set, bass player Chris Hollows told an anecdote about the release of the Sand Pebbles’ first record, Eastern Terrace, back in 2002. Hollows and guitarist Ben Michael told Greville Records that anyone purchasing a Luna record was to be rewarded with a free copy of Eastern Terrace because, Hollows reasoned, “We figured they would like us as well”.
Everyone seemed glad to have the Sand Pebbles back on stage after almost three years’ hiatus and the set straddled the old and not-so old of the band’s catalogue. Hollows and drummer Wes Holland’s rhythm playing was as reliable as St Kilda’s forward line will likely never be, Tor Larsen and Andrew Tanner’s harmonies were as wondrous as a sunny morning in Woodstock, and Ben Michael lined every song with a layer of psychedelic fuzz.
With his lithe frame, swept grey hair and black-rimmed glasses, Luna frontman Dean Wareham could be an art gallery owner on the Lower East Side. Britta Phillips is just as chic and enigmatically elegant, while Sean Eden could pass for Dave McCormack in musical talent and appearance, and if Lee Wall did anything wrong on drums tonight, it was news to us.
There’s lots to love about Luna – and not just because the band’s first album inadvertently name-checked arguably Melbourne’s most cherished amusement park. The band creates a textured sound that blends melodic dreamy pop, second wave psychedelia and a small dose of ‘60s garage grime. It’s Camper Van Beethoven through a fuzzy lens, The Someloves on a dirty New York boulevard and Loaded-era Velvet Underground via The Dream Syndicate.
Tonight, everything was good, and mesmerising: Speedbumps, Chinatown, Tracy I Love You, and plenty more. 23 Minutes in Brussels was a special highlight, and an end to the main set: it ebbed, flowed, cascaded and culminated a moment of untethered musical beauty. They returned for a two-song encore, then the lights came on and the night was over. Some people say that perfect is the enemy of the good, but tonight was as perfect as you could hope a gig to be.
BY PATRICK EMERY
Loved: 23 Minutes in Brussels.
Hated: That it was a school night.
Drank: Fat Yak. Lazy and standard.
