Ducking out of the marauders’ march that was Swanston Street on White Night and into the confines of the Spiegeltent, the stage was set for the Toot Toot Toots’ second performance of the weekend. The show was everything they’d promised it would be: a gritty musical hoopla traversing their entire debut album Outlaws, complete with added projections, beaming bosomy dancers and narration from the awesome Tom Pitts.
The Toots’ themselves were in fine spirits and hammed up their spaghetti-Western roots to the hilt, with singer Dan Hawkins’ ever entrancing voice at its best: like stones in a Magi Mix. Trombonist Giuliano Ferla was so technically precise he sounded like a trumpeter, and the trumpeter was so spot-on he sounded like a synth (but better). The violinist was incredible, sawing her bow across that thing like a madwoman. Ferla shared vocal duties with Hawkins, the two sometimes passionately sharing a mic. After a couple of tracks, our ‘kerchiefed narrator appeared at the back of the tent in spotlight to continue the story of the “lucky Jew prick Eli”, and the tale of small outback town Gomorrah Fields, populated with McKenzies and Buchanans and their various petty, deadly vendettas.
The Forager’s Daughter began with beautiful vibrato vocals and moved into a slick, lazily syncopated snare beat from drummer Dylan Thomas, trilled and totally cool. Ferla paced the stage maniacally beating a cowbell and Clint Eastwood squinted over the audience from the projection screen.
As the crowd sunk more beers, Pitt’s monologues received some shouted feedback which he took in his stride completely, responding excitedly and easily. The Toots’ never broke character and evoked the styles of every raw Aussie film you could think of, particularly the 2005 Nick Cave vehicle The Proposition. A brilliant trumpet and trombone call and answer bridge towards the middle of the set reminded me of the ANZACs, and not just because of the show’s literal connotations. There was a rich, nostalgic and genuine base underlying the production’s more flamboyant elements which drew all its parts together like a bouquet of Kangaroo’s Paw, if you will.
The last song of the set Fare Thee Well, Jesse had heavy, slow fifths of bass like a jug band, and first guitar playing a triplet melody over the top. It was about the ghost of the murdered Eli, who is singing a song to his dead daughter. It was sweet and sad and resigned, like Johnny Cash. Absolutely awesome.
ZOË RADAS
LOVED: Hawkins embracing my brother mid-song.
HATED: Having to go back out into White Night.
DRANK: Beer of course.
