Certain aspects of growing older are pretty excellent. Having the stamina to endure an all-day festival isn’t one of them, but the inaugural Out On The Weekend certainly wasn’t a skolll-a-bottle-of-spirits and rage-the-day-awaykind of affair. A couple of thousand well-dressed punters made the trek out to what Henry Wagons would later describe as the evil side of the city. The big shed at Williamstown’s Seaworks housed two contiguous stages, offering alternating entertainment throughout the day. The atmosphere was casual, there were no disheartening security checks upon entry and the food and drink options weren’t just legitimately desirable, but also very decently priced ($5 for a tin of Melbourne).
The festival’s name and artwork are pinched from Neil Young’s 1972 classic, Harvest. Accordingly, that album’s songs influenced Out On The Weekend’s curatorial decisions. One of many acts out here from Nashville; Jonny Fritz got the hoedown started early on. Fritz’s fairly conventional country narratives were spliced with inviting humour and crazy-uncle vocals. Fritz held down the beat on acoustic guitar, while Josh Hedley’s fiddle work added saloon-band dimension. Robert Ellis provided twanging lead guitar to a few tracks. His guest contribution was the first of several such instances of the day, which enhanced the festival’s familial warmth.
Up next was Canadian-born Nashvillian, Lindi Ortega. She was joined by a blistering electric guitarist, which gave her interpretations of country a tad nastier edge than what features on her records. Ortega was most captivating when throwing herself into a gutsy vocal, but the set became a little same-y about two thirds through.
Next we had Nikki Lane, who’d brought a whole band out for her first Australian visit. Lane piled on the sass, singing about getting stoned, having sex with strangers and basically advising, “It’s always the right time to do the wrong thing.” Her pop-rock dappled country isn’t utterly breathtaking, but it was essentially impossible not to like her.
The highest billed Aussie of the day was Henry Wagons. While the blokes from Wagons (the band) were on stage with him, most of the setlist came from the Henry Wagons-billed mini album, Expecting Company. Mr. Wagons is a pillar of grotesque charisma and, in contrast to the rest of the lineup, his performance was an explosive rock spectacle. After some help from Jonny Fritz on Neil Young’s Are You Ready For the Country, several more guests (including Hedley and Emma Swift) jumped up for the set’s ultimate romp, Willie Nelson. It’s not a brilliant song, but good lord it was a lot of fun.
After Wagons’ unflinching showmanship, Ryan Bingham’s cookie-cutter country rock was a little hard to chew. It seems as is the LA-based star is positioning himself for a Keith Urban-like ascent, and all power to him, but his set cut a little too close to the radio fodder that gives Nashville a bad name.
Taking us home was proud Tennessee boy, Justin Townes Earle. Earle’s accounts of heartache and squalor, and his unpolished heart-out vocals, are capable of bringing an entire audience to its knees. Unfortunately, this evening he leant heavily on the mid-tempo tepidity of his latest release, Single Mothers. The keen detail of Mama’s Eyes and relaxed demeanor of Ain’t Waitin’ were highlights, but Earle didn’t quite climb to the climax a headline set demands.
BY AUGUSTUS WELBY
Photo by Kane Hibberd
Loved: There was no grass.
Hated: The craft beer supply ran out mid-afternoon.
Drank: JD, with a side of MB.
