Gig Review: The Whitlams

The Gig: The Whitlams

The Location: The Corner Hotel Richmond

Until: Sunday, 6 October.

Stars: 4.5

I remember the conversation well.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’VE NEVER BEEN TO THE CORNER? You live ten minutes away. 15 if you walk.”

“More like 20 minutes if I walk. I’m up the dodgy Vietnamese end of Richmond, remember.”

“Still, woman, how can that be?” After which, he rattled off the number of his favourite Vietnamese restaurant on Victoria Street and left me to stew.

 Andy had a point. How could I not have attended The Corner Hotel in Richmond to see a gig? In many ways, it was my own preferences and prejudices. Not wanting to go alone. Or missing out on tickets (Hozier was one of those tickets). Or forgetting whoever was playing and not getting there in time (James Reyne). Like I pass The Corner Hotel at least twice a week. But I’d never been in.

 Andy passed away at the end of July at the age of 55.

 As a part of the grieving process, and the mentality that life is too bloody short, when I saw The Whitlams were playing there, and had added extra shows, I bought a ticket. Andy would approve. I didn’t ask anybody else if they wanted to come along. Often being the person who does the arranging and the ticket buying, I decided that going alone, especially on a school night, would be the best thing.

Yesterday, I checked the website, found out that they were coming on at 8.45 p.m. At 8.20, I Ubered over there, because, like, parking in Richmond is a no go, and the trams had replacement buses. Sod that.

And I arrived at 8.35, ready to get going.

First thing. The thrill I got from having a stamp put on my wrist was out of this world. I can’t remember the last time I had a club stamp my wrist, allowing me in and out (it used to be to have a smoke – this time, it let you go to the loo, which was in the pub part of the hotel outside of the auditorium). I remember getting these all the time as a young adult. I got the feeling of being a big kid in this marvelous space.

 Scanning the crowd, it was pretty much expected. A lot of middle-aged people out for the night, with some younger ones (like in their early thirties) who possibly got a liking for the band from their parents or elder siblings. A nice, contained crowd. The sign about the merch stand reading that crowd surfers would be turfed from the joint wasn’t needed.

 I went to the bar to get a large soda water and time. The barperson didn’t charge me. Result! And I made my way a little way into the crowd, still up the back waiting for the band to appear.

 Near the bar, the sound tech stood at his board playing with the levels. Once again, a middled-aged fellow with glasses, greying hair in a ponytail, wearing a black hoodie. What’s the bet his name is Dave.

 “You should go up the front,” said Andy into my ear.

“I’m fine where I am. Room to move. You go up front.”

“Okay.”

 On time, Tim Freedman and his band of musos arrived.

 What followed was two hours of pure entertainment. Billed as the Love this City tour, playing the 1999 album from end to end, with some songs from The Eternal Nightcap and Torch the Moon. They were great. The inclusion of the brass section (okay a tenor sax and a trumpet) brought an added depth to the songs. Tight, in synch, funny and very enjoyable. When Tim somehow accidentally forgot to play Blow Up the Pokies, there was outrage in the crowd. He was joking...

To be a Whitlams fan, you will probably have a good sense of humour, have grown up in share houses and see the world as it is.. With their music, you’ll be comfortable in the knowledge that you’re singing about love, and loss, and grief and how things used to be. Songs about recording letters on a cassette or share houses and pubs with sticky carpets (like The Corner. A colleague warned me about the carpet – it was very spongy.) The songs of an Australia from 20 years ago.

 For me, I was happy to hear a lot from The Eternal Nightcap – one of my favourite albums. I had it in my head that once I hear, You Sound Like Louis Burdett, I could go home happy. 

They played that as the last song of the two-hour set. At which time, I went home happy.

 And in the corner of my eye, I could see Andy, dancing badly, wearing a band t-shirt, pint in hand, loving every moment of the gig.

There is something very cool about going to a gig by yourself. You’re not beholden to anybody’s time keeping. You don’t have to get in a round - even more important as I’m not drinking at the moment. You can stand where you want. Drink what you want. And just take in the music. And in my case, I found a very convenient air conditioning duct to stand under near the back. It was brilliant.

This one really was for Andy. I’m so glad I went. On leaving, I felt closer to him. I know he was there in spirit.

I got online this morning and bought the t-shirt, in commemoration of not only a good night, but of a special friend.

Today's song: