Magnolia Electric Co. at Bush Hall
Magnolia Electric Co.
The Bitter Tears
Bush Hall, 2 September 2009
I've seen some weird-ass support acts in my time but The Bitter Tears really take the crown. Their performance can be summed up by the response from a guy in the crowd when the singer pleadingly asked us, "What are you all feeling out there?" to which came the loud reply "FEAR!" Yep, The Bitter Tears were kinda scary, not in a Marilyn-Manson-I-love-the-Devil kind of way, but because they looked and sounded like they had just escaped from a lunatic asylum. I kid you not.
I walked in midway through their performance and the crowd was cautiously standing back from the stage, giving themselves enough room to escape I guess, and there on stage were five hairy guys either wearing girls' denim shorts, tights and sparkly tops or shirtless with very short denim dungarees (although I think the drummer's may have been a denim mini-dress), their faces badly painted with white and black paint, like clowns who had attempted to do their make-up on a rollercoaster ride. Scariest of all was the singer, who, in addition to his denim shorts and sparkly polo neck, also wore a battered up straw hat on his head and had a fake, painted moustache and eyebrows. He looked like Steve Zahn turned creepy serial killer, and throughout each song would grin so much he looked like his cheeks would burst, and stare, eyes wide, at members of the audience like this, sometimes continuing to look at one individual for several lines of the song. The music was like a manic, happy, jaunty version of Noahjohn's off-kilter fuzz-fuelled blue-grass, with songs about truckers, condoms, suicide and hate (it's chorus just the word "hate" screamed over and over again). One tune broke down into a monologue, with the singer whispering a story about his wife asking him to make something for the children for Christmas "cos we don't have no money for no gifts" and turning into a crazed, rant-filled tale of making a hobby horse in a shed in a tornado. The band all demanded we, the crowd, talk to them but either the drinks weren't flowing or it really was fear, because there wasn't much response. "We'll soon be gone and Magnolia Electric Co. will come on and you can drift away to the strains of some sweet country jams," he demanded in a quivering voice, to a backdrop of the band all giggling, "but this is something DIFFERENT!" He wasn't wrong. I enjoyed it but was glad when they went off.
Jason Molina and his band were a different beast altogether. Arriving on stage, each beautifully dressed in a different coloured well-tailored suit (Molina's accessorised with a silver bola tie and turquoise jewellery, the blonde, long-haired bassist looking like he got his beige number out of a 70s catalogue), they looked like they could have been backing Lyle Lovett and politely thanked us "kindly" after each song. I've seen MEC before (I didn't remember Molina being so tiny, he reminded me of the small kid in your class who always looked like he should be a couple of years below) and they weren't so well attired last time but musically it's still the same, Neil Young-esque rock jams with a country feel, and there's no complaints about that because the band is great.
The set has a fair sprinkling of songs from the new album Josephine (Molina even introduces Josephine as if she were a guest before launching into the song that bears her name) beginning with An Arrow In The Gale and Little Sad Eyes, but there's plenty of old favourites too, my favourites probably being the cool rock groove of I've Been Riding With The Ghost, the sad melancholy of the re-worked Hard To Love A Man and the show closer John Henry Split My Heart, which morphs into Farewell Transmission at the end, with the band crooning "long dark moon" and Molina yelling "this is a farewell transmission!" over the thunderous riff that opens and closes the song. Molina introduces the song as being inspired by the cool guitar he's playing, the make of which I can't work out but has the word "rink" in a child's writing on the scratchplate probably written by his son. He played the guitar in the store and out came the song, so of course he bought the guitar, luckily for us.
Apparently Molina is one of the few artists who doesn't like the fakeness of the expected encore, most often not playing any, but both times I've seen MEC the audience has enticed the band back and both times it's been to play a Warren Zevon song. Last time it was Werewolves Of London, this time it's Zevon's other most famous track, Lawyers, Guns & Money. It sounds fantastic, stomping and fun and Molina, sweat dripping from his balding head, is clearly having a ball unable to keep from grinning, just like the audience in fact.
I walked in midway through their performance and the crowd was cautiously standing back from the stage, giving themselves enough room to escape I guess, and there on stage were five hairy guys either wearing girls' denim shorts, tights and sparkly tops or shirtless with very short denim dungarees (although I think the drummer's may have been a denim mini-dress), their faces badly painted with white and black paint, like clowns who had attempted to do their make-up on a rollercoaster ride. Scariest of all was the singer, who, in addition to his denim shorts and sparkly polo neck, also wore a battered up straw hat on his head and had a fake, painted moustache and eyebrows. He looked like Steve Zahn turned creepy serial killer, and throughout each song would grin so much he looked like his cheeks would burst, and stare, eyes wide, at members of the audience like this, sometimes continuing to look at one individual for several lines of the song. The music was like a manic, happy, jaunty version of Noahjohn's off-kilter fuzz-fuelled blue-grass, with songs about truckers, condoms, suicide and hate (it's chorus just the word "hate" screamed over and over again). One tune broke down into a monologue, with the singer whispering a story about his wife asking him to make something for the children for Christmas "cos we don't have no money for no gifts" and turning into a crazed, rant-filled tale of making a hobby horse in a shed in a tornado. The band all demanded we, the crowd, talk to them but either the drinks weren't flowing or it really was fear, because there wasn't much response. "We'll soon be gone and Magnolia Electric Co. will come on and you can drift away to the strains of some sweet country jams," he demanded in a quivering voice, to a backdrop of the band all giggling, "but this is something DIFFERENT!" He wasn't wrong. I enjoyed it but was glad when they went off.
Jason Molina and his band were a different beast altogether. Arriving on stage, each beautifully dressed in a different coloured well-tailored suit (Molina's accessorised with a silver bola tie and turquoise jewellery, the blonde, long-haired bassist looking like he got his beige number out of a 70s catalogue), they looked like they could have been backing Lyle Lovett and politely thanked us "kindly" after each song. I've seen MEC before (I didn't remember Molina being so tiny, he reminded me of the small kid in your class who always looked like he should be a couple of years below) and they weren't so well attired last time but musically it's still the same, Neil Young-esque rock jams with a country feel, and there's no complaints about that because the band is great.
The set has a fair sprinkling of songs from the new album Josephine (Molina even introduces Josephine as if she were a guest before launching into the song that bears her name) beginning with An Arrow In The Gale and Little Sad Eyes, but there's plenty of old favourites too, my favourites probably being the cool rock groove of I've Been Riding With The Ghost, the sad melancholy of the re-worked Hard To Love A Man and the show closer John Henry Split My Heart, which morphs into Farewell Transmission at the end, with the band crooning "long dark moon" and Molina yelling "this is a farewell transmission!" over the thunderous riff that opens and closes the song. Molina introduces the song as being inspired by the cool guitar he's playing, the make of which I can't work out but has the word "rink" in a child's writing on the scratchplate probably written by his son. He played the guitar in the store and out came the song, so of course he bought the guitar, luckily for us.
Apparently Molina is one of the few artists who doesn't like the fakeness of the expected encore, most often not playing any, but both times I've seen MEC the audience has enticed the band back and both times it's been to play a Warren Zevon song. Last time it was Werewolves Of London, this time it's Zevon's other most famous track, Lawyers, Guns & Money. It sounds fantastic, stomping and fun and Molina, sweat dripping from his balding head, is clearly having a ball unable to keep from grinning, just like the audience in fact.
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