I don’t get Jaala, an up-and-coming prog blues outfit fronted by a pink-haired Joplin wannabe named Cosima. They’re a wilfully difficult sort of band – “experimental” – and I have zero patience for it.
If Jaala are a quintessential underground act, Methyl Ethel are model export material. They open their headline set with an epic INXS-worthy guitar jam, standing with their backs to the audience. Out of the gate, their sound is spectral and sprawling; a three-piece band standing in a hall of mirrors, expanded and duplicated by a raft of effects pedals. The sound is thick with ’80s nostalgia, even the lyrics. “I run to you,” Jake Webb sings, “What can I do?” His voice is the defining thread of their music, straining and breaking over the microphone, riddled with anxiety.
This is the last of three sold out shows Methyl Ethel have played at the Northcote Social Club this week, as the buzz around the Perth band continues to grow. A row of young girls behind me lets off a collective squeal of joy when the band begins the climbing/falling notes of Rogues, the lead single from their critically acclaimed debut, Oh Inhuman Spectacle. One of the girl sighs audibly as Webb croons the word “aliens”, at least partially infatuated with the Methyl Ethel frontman. She continues her gurgling appreciation as the band moves on to Architecture Lecture. Hearing how much these kids love this band, it’s like watching Methyl Ethel break in slow motion, on a wave of triple j airplay and SXSW hype.
Not that they aren’t worthy. They are very worthy. Their slacker psych has these huge dynamic shifts, from proggy instrumental pieces to slapping funk worthy of Franz Ferdinand to dissonant crescendos reminiscent of A Clockwork Orange. It’s a wild synthesis of influences. But sometimes, because they are so slick and polished and commercially viable, they also sound like Muse. Whether this is a compliment or a criticism depends on your view of Muse, I guess.
The set peaks with Twilight Driving and the room straightens up and lets out a sustained run of whoops and cheers. It’s a great tune, ’roos and all. But the real highlight of the show is when Jack Doepel comes out to play the sax solo. The band is excellent, but this guy is truly incredible, like knock-your-socks-off talented. I didn’t realise it, but I’d been hunting for that rush of excitement all night. Who knew a sax solo would deliver.
LOVED: Jack Doepel, five stars.
HATED: The support act.
DRANK: Water.
BY SIMONE UBALDI
