TEX PERKINS

Rosemount Hotel

Saturday, September 19, 2009

The walk down the road to the Rosemount Hotel was Melbourne cold last Saturday night and it seemed appropriately so. Tex Perkins’ beloved St Kilda had made their way into the grand final the night before and it no doubt warmed his heart, but the punters cockles were ready to be heated.

And willing. While Perkins has made a living out of unleashing his Rock Beast over the years, perhaps less light has been shone on his solo work. He’s not had the hits of the Cruel Sea on his own, nor attracted the same kind of attention that he would with the confrontational nature of The Beasts Of Bourbon. But there is certainly a keen following for the man when he is in this mode – as the 20-to-50 year-olds gathering to the front and nodding contentedly all around the venue would attest. Perkins is not so much getting on as growing up.

His band was pretty much the infamous Ladyboyz of 2008, minus one. So anytime guitarist Charlie Owen, Cruel Sea alumni/guitarist/keyboardist James Cruikshank, bassist Joel Silbersher and drummer Gus Agar are in the company of their deep-voiced old mate and the mood is heavy rather than hokey (see 2008) then things are going to be pretty stirring. In the same way that the hint of danger seems genuine when Perkins sings his rock’n’roll, the world-weariness in his acoustic-based solo tunes also  hits home, especially with a demographic who have lived a good degree of life themselves. So when the singer leans in and the band follow on What I Done To Her, I Know You Know I Know or Paycheques, everyone – audience included in this case – is on the same page. There was no hint of the inattentive chatter that occasionally choked Perkins’ late 2007 solo visit to Perth, the people were with him on this one.

It wasn’t all po-faced though, by any means. Banter was fond and self-effacing. Those on stage have done this all-kinds-of-thousands-of-times in their lives, but they’re clearly content with the company they keep. As such the likes of Whenever It Snows, Anybody But You and Real Love (the la-la refrain revealed as a toothbrushing tune) were full of appropriate lift and swagger when needed. As was the 1993 Tex, Don & Charlie standard, Fake That Emotion. That things aches heartbreak and alcohol all over the place on nights when sombre beats sober.

Just like this one.

_ BOB GORDON