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STEVIE WONDER

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Now I must declare a slight bias here, in that Stevie is my all time, number one favourite musician. But I must also declare that I am not alone and obviously have incredibly good taste to be worshipping a musician who has won 26 Grammy Awards, had ten US number one hits on the pop charts, 20 US R&B number one hits and sold more than 150 million units in album sales. More than just a pop artist, he is a virtuoso musician on numerous instruments including piano, synthesizer, congas, bongos, drums, clavinet and of course vocals and harmonica. So let’s just say I went to see Stevie Wonder for the first time in my life with reasonably high expectations. I was not let down – in fact I was on a complete high at the end of the concert – helped along in no small measure by the fact that I actually got to meet the man in person after the concert.

Apparently after all his concerts Stevie takes the time to meet friends and family of the band (we knew someone who knew the percussionist) as well as random fans that the band meet along the way and invite back stage. Stevie didn’t skimp on the time of his performance (around 3 hours) and neither did he skimp on taking the time to meet and greet the lucky 40 or 50 of us who got to go back stage, shake hands with the legend and have our photo taken with him to secure our bragging rights for the next fourty years.

But back to the concert – while I most certainly got what I came for – a chance to see Mr Wonderful in person - his concert was not what you would have necessarily expected. I had amazing seats down the front and was able to not only see him but also really ‘feel his vibe’. Being that close to him I expected to be bowled over by some super-nova-force musical genius-type energy, but bizarrely both on stage and backstage he gives off a calmness and relaxed down-to-earth quality that almost belied his incredible talents.

When the lights went down and the first notes rang out everyone rose to their feet and started dancing, including me, heavily pregnant with my first child. I was thrilled, but was also secretly hoping people wouldn’t stand all night as I wasn’t quite sure how I’d hold out. I needn’t have worried however as the pace of the concert was perfect, with every third of fourth song people rising from their seat to dance to one of their favourite tunes and for the remaining time the audience stayed seated as Stevie and his phenomenal band played some less well-known tunes including more than a smattering of jazz.

For those who still weren’t convinced of Stevie’s incredible multi-instrumentalist skills, his jazz sets proved he has more than enough chops to be a master at whatever he sets his mind to. But the highlights for me were his vocals. Always amazing, with incredible chops yet still somehow soulful. He managed to show off his incredible technique without you ever feeling like he was being technical. When he sings it seems to come straight from the heart and at the Sydney concert in particular his heart was obviously on the line as he played tribute to the loss of his long-time friend and musician extraordinaire Levi Stubs from The Four Tops who passed away earlier that week.

Towards the end of the concert you could start to feel a bit of tension building in the audience as people began looking at their watches wondering if Mr Wonder would actually get time to play their favourite tune. The fact is, he has been such a prolific hit maker that in order to satisfy everyone and play all his classic tunes the concert would still have been going the next morning. He cleverly got around this fact by playing a medley of his biggest hits. Even for veteran fans of Stevie Wonder the medley was almost overwhelming in that it reminded you of just how many incredible tunes he has not only penned but played on.

The verdict – Wonderful!

  TAMWORTH FESTIVAL

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But what really makes Tamworth memorable are the buskers on Peel Street. From the truly terrible to the talented and terrific they line Peel Street with PA after PA battling it out to be heard outside every shop front. The cacophony of sound is unbelievable and while it will send any self-respecting musician running for the hills, purely from the clash of frequencies, your torture will occasionally be rewarded by the performance of a very gifted busker. Of course you will have to listen to said busker blocking one ear to drown out the busker next to her, but it will be well worth the effort.

This year’s festival should be worth attending for the names alone – not the big names (who are of course well worth a look) but the classic, only a country band could be called this, type names. Bands such as Fat Dusty, The Chickenhead Blues Duo or Mark Lucas & The Dead Setters. Or what about checking out these artists with more traditional band-names such as Lonesome Train, Corn Liquor and Cyclone Jason & The Hurricanes?

The Tamworth Country Music Festival runs from Friday the 16th of January to Monday the 26th of January. For more information visit www.tamworthcountrymusic.com.au

REVIEW THE REVIEWER

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Hype would be just noise about nothing if it did not appeal to some element of mystery that we all feel about the world around us. After all, if a piece of music, or any work of art is to do its work successfully, then it must crack us open and make us vulnerable to the other. An effective piece of music enables a collision between reality and ourselves; and, in the best cases, leaves us capable of receiving reality into ourselves.

Hype, then, plugs into something that the human race has long disputed and fought about; and, occasionally thought about. The issue here is, naturally enough, taste; that there is no arguing about it or that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

What this review fails to do is tackle head-on the hype that surrounds Rieu. Allow me to poke a stick around in the review to set the hype scuttling for you.

The review begins: “In interviews, Andre Rieu demands that he be considered a musician, not branded as showman, entertainer, or populist.”

‘Demands’ and ‘branded’ are hardly neutral terms, but rather set the pigeons fluttering, and require the reader to believe either, “blowed if he can demand any such thing of me”, or, “quite right, only his due”. The presence of mind required to say, “well, we shall see what is owing to him”, is usually beyond the level of serious consideration that any reader is prepared to give to a review in a daily newspaper.

The review continues: “Love or loathe him, there are many parts to the man, the music and the myth.” Hype-odermic, bro! Do you see the trick, now? Love him or loathe him — is it necessary to do either? Why not just have a beer, a meal and some good conversation?

Then, a few paragraphs later comes this astonishing censure: “It is disappointing to see professional journalists indulging in cheap, inaccurate stereotypes to dismiss criticism of Rieu.” Mind boggling; flabbergasting; gobsmacking. “Stereotypes”? May I remind the reviewer of his earlier use of the old false dichotomy “love or loathe him” and of his own hyping of the Rieu phenomenon? Get stuck into bad examples of the reporting art by all legitimate means, but take care not to do so in the middle of an egregious example of the same. (High horse)

Finally, in the second half of the review, our reviewer gets down to actual commentary on the concert - here his coverage is adequate and his language actually lifts above the sludge of cliche. To wit: “However, in Melbourne, physics trumped technology, the sound an inarticulate wash despite sophisticated mixing and vast speaker array; muffled, metallic tones, as though listening to music in the shower with a piece of cheese in each ear.” And: “Overall, those who value this type of music more than the spectacle built around it, would be best to purchase one of those ubiquitous Rieu DVDs rather than sit through an episode of death by stadium. Not only will the sound be vastly superior, but you can actually hear and see all the action, from wherever you sit in the lounge room.”

To read the original piece, go to: http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,24659983-5013575,00.html

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Old Yella by Hyram Deeks

Adopting an adventurous approach to the fictional format, Deeks recounts the experiences of a WWII deserter through the songs that were sung about him by those he abandoned; first, the AIF 23rd Infantry unit at El Alamein, then the Berber tribesmen who saved him from death in the desert, then the French woman in Algiers who threw herself from a minaret after he took her money and absconded, and, finally, the dog that befriended him on the streets of Tangiers, which he cooked and ate.

It’s a queer tale, told queerly and, yet, is somehow thoroughly incomprehensible. Had it been printed on rice paper, it might have been more digestible.

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