Sticking to window of the pungent 86 tram was not how I’d envisaged my evening beginning. However, the great expectations held for the night’s viewing was hardly something that could be spoilt by a greasy pane. Burrowing into the box-like bowels of the Northcote Social Club for the early kick off, we were instantly affronted by The Neighbourhood Youth.
Despite the hoodlum branding, The Neighbourhood Youth’s tight, shining melodies cut a crisp entrance while John Philip’s vocals leered onwards and upwards. While it’s not often that a band are excused for wearing shorts inside (not dressed as scouts), with a hint of The Rifles to go an unashamed nod to The Maccabees you will earn your keep. The Neighbourhood Youth do just that with promise of more to come.
Little more than the time to wriggle over to the bar and back saw the mysterious I’lls (say “Isles”) mount the stage with noted Ocean Party member Simon Lam hunched centre stage behind a desk. With Dan Rutman stage right on guitars and Hamish Mitchell on keys, the group brought a twist from their recent Thread EP to the evening. Far beyond the dream pop of Ocean Party, here under unfortunately harsh lighting the swelling crowd found equal measures of The XX, Atlas Sound and the parts of Kid A that don’t sound like Pac Man.
With Lam in full control of the sounds through the synthesised keys of his laptop, there was a hush of intrigue about the room. Diligently backed up, Lam’s seamless move to the unoccupied drum kit rounded out the set from the boyish, echoed vocals of the ghostly “Northern Quarters” to a crashing end all before we’d quite worked out what to do.
Third on the bill was the mighty, warbling psychedelia of Tehachapi taking to the stage in almost complete darkness. Making a swarming noise all of their own, the band are fronted by the shaggy haired Constatine Stefanou on guitar with James Ruse on bass while Anthony Cook rounded out the swarming mid range on guitar.
Brooding among the Melbourne scene for a few years, the sizable slabs of The Doors, Mogwai-esque twangs are toned by the haunting, vocal trades between Stefanou and drummer Laura Christoforidis. With their recent four-track EP Land Of Four Seasons uncovered, there are great signs of a band who’ve worked with steady verve to harness the raw intent of their early promise.
Curiously, for all the fuzzed out reverb and swirling chords lending to impending doom and terrifying acid trips, there’s a sweetness aloud to freshen the mood at will. Unlike the (slightly contrived) wavered vocals of Black Mountain’s Amber Webber it is the considered approach of Stefanou/Christoforidis that would hold firm. With the two allowing each other to take lead unannounced, it went as far as to trick those inattentive into believing there was loop flowing round the pattered cymbal crash which close out a wall of sound. Sadly, time stood slightly stiller than before and the fear of Pac Man was forgotten as we bid Tehanachi thanks before the final leg of an already impressive evening could begin.
With the black curtains drawn across the stage for reasons unexplained, a shuffle to and from the bar brought time to ponder and shout to be heard. Top of the conversation starter cards were the “Have you got the first EP?” followed closely by flowery worded disagreements of which track took the cake. When the curtains were drawn and Daniel Moss and co. immediately drenched the muttering masses with their sharp, well honed melodies. Moss’ voice brought a mellow drama before “Reprise” plucked from the stunning debut four-track EP Fifteen Thirty Three brought a known quantity to life.
Clever melodies coupled with the harmonies of Ash Hunter (guitars) and Erik Rene (bass) laced across the gently picked notes before Sumner Fish’s shuddering drums fill the room, the band shone on this their night to bare their gruelling months of work to the world as a new EP – You’re Boring Us All. Borrowing the title from its opening track, the band do anything but bore, proving stage theatrics redundant to the dole queues of yesteryear. Instead, the hushed lines of “Five Four” gave way to the soaring chorus’ before retreating back to poignant gloom.
Having skipped through the lull normally placed for an encore, the band held a gem back to close in “Ran My Ghoul”. With the lyrics more topical than you could plan, calling on faceless men to be unveiled, Moss’ vocal strains rang high. Here were a band with all before them. True headliners to a fine night, packed with well earned praise.
Should their relentless gigging and undoubted talent pay its deserved dues, what might become of I, A Man is set to become something of a secret handshake between anyone lucky enough to have been nudged into the cramped surrounds. Glory hunters beware – capacity has been noted. If the world’s half as right as it should be, I, A Man will fly high.
– Ciaran Wilcox
