Calexico & Beirut @ ABC
Calexico may be tonight's headliners, but in the months to come it'll be the sound of Beirut that fiddles its way into your heart.
| 12 Dec 2006
Playing second fiddle is always a humbling proposition. But when that subordinate viola is ceremoniously hurled to you by its original owner, those lamentable bows seem all the more demeaning. And that's why sympathy must lie with headliners Calexico. Because, tonight, their brand of Latino soaked country is a paltry match for the engorging orchestral splendour of Zach Condon's Beirut (4/5).
Shuffling on stage with a ramshackle octet of musicians, Condon exudes the fidgeting demeanour of 'Modern Times'-era Chaplin. Chest puffed and trumpet blown, he swaggers into the vibrant cajoling of 'Gulag Orkestar' like a swashbuckling admiral scouring Eastern European shores for melodies to conquer. His voice is astonishing; effortlessly fluctuating between Rhineland's operatic elegance and Mount Wroclai's indecipherable proclamations, demanding the attention of every quivering neck hair. Postcard's From Italy fails to capture the transient finesse found on record – even with the band's staggering grasp of interchangeable instrumentation – but the slithering accordion polka of Brazil illuminates a triumphant display of vividly exhilarating musical elasticity. It's what live music should always be: demanding, dramatic and darn-right wonderful.
With the ABC's glitterball still reeling from the tremors of Beirut's shuddering set, Calexico (2/5) seem hesitant and downbeat when they step to the fore. Continuously switching between candle-lit ballads and tequila induced mariachi stomps, it's a bewildering and infuriating performance that's more polished than a Royal's pristine porcelain. Black Heart is the night's tragic tear-jerker, beautifully caressed by the emotive swaying of a sumptuous slide guitar and Joey Burns' gruff oceanic tones. But these moments of inspired vibrancy all too often fade into the humdrum realms of MOR, leaving the audience detached and apathetic. Calexico may be tonight's headliners, but in the months to come it'll be the sound of Beirut that fiddles its way into your heart. [Billy Hamilton]
Shuffling on stage with a ramshackle octet of musicians, Condon exudes the fidgeting demeanour of 'Modern Times'-era Chaplin. Chest puffed and trumpet blown, he swaggers into the vibrant cajoling of 'Gulag Orkestar' like a swashbuckling admiral scouring Eastern European shores for melodies to conquer. His voice is astonishing; effortlessly fluctuating between Rhineland's operatic elegance and Mount Wroclai's indecipherable proclamations, demanding the attention of every quivering neck hair. Postcard's From Italy fails to capture the transient finesse found on record – even with the band's staggering grasp of interchangeable instrumentation – but the slithering accordion polka of Brazil illuminates a triumphant display of vividly exhilarating musical elasticity. It's what live music should always be: demanding, dramatic and darn-right wonderful.
With the ABC's glitterball still reeling from the tremors of Beirut's shuddering set, Calexico (2/5) seem hesitant and downbeat when they step to the fore. Continuously switching between candle-lit ballads and tequila induced mariachi stomps, it's a bewildering and infuriating performance that's more polished than a Royal's pristine porcelain. Black Heart is the night's tragic tear-jerker, beautifully caressed by the emotive swaying of a sumptuous slide guitar and Joey Burns' gruff oceanic tones. But these moments of inspired vibrancy all too often fade into the humdrum realms of MOR, leaving the audience detached and apathetic. Calexico may be tonight's headliners, but in the months to come it'll be the sound of Beirut that fiddles its way into your heart. [Billy Hamilton]