Live Review: Tex Perkins & The Dark Horses

The soulful mid-tempo pub rock of The Dark Horses is one of the many faces of serial band-hopper Tex Perkins (Cruel Sea, Beasts Of Bourbon, Tex & Tim, The Ladyboyz, etc.) and his most inoffensive. In a dark velvet jacket, slicked back hair, the grey in his mutton chops dusted across his unshaven face, Perkins is now every bit the suave, salacious, silver fox singer. He's on stage to joke with the guys in the audience, flirt with the ladies and seduce them all. Unfortunately, that's not what the audience is here for. The Friday night Republic Bar crowd is usually a welcoming, slightly madcap bunch, but there are few of this sort at the show. Most are middling 40-somethings who may or may not like Tex Perkins but definitely like the idea that they're out after 10pm with other people.

When Tex Perkins & The Dark Horses begin, opening with a whistling intro to Oh Lucky Me reminiscent of old Wild West films, the crowd are rapt, attentive and smiling. It's a common decency that's unfortunately shortlived. By the third song, Perkins stops mid-way through a lyric and addresses a lady near the front.

"Excuse me, can you shut the fuck up? Or move to the back of the room? All I can hear is 'nyahayhahnahayh'. Just tone it the fuck down, please, or at least turn around to face the stage."

Pausing to shoot the band an incredulous look, he continues, "Can I ask that the first two rows listen to the band? Everyone else do whatever the fuck you want."

The band then immediately launches into Word To Come, abandoning the previous song. The Dark Horses might not be your favourite Tex Perkins iteration but with the soulful, gravel-growled ballads delivered over carefully preened rock it's clear they belong in the top tier of the Australian musician pantheon. It's well-rehearsed to an oil slick shine but it's only a couple songs later when the crowd stops caring. Perhaps encouraged by the free rein Perkins has assigned to everyone not in the front two rows, it devolves into a cacophony of noise and laughter to the point where it's actually a genuine effort to hear the band.

The most disappointing crowd reaction and not one you'd expect when tickets are $30 and there are only two acts on the bill. Apart from a momentary breath of attention given when the band rumbles through a faultless rendition of Lucid, one of their biggest hits, it's a symphony of 100 different conversations, yet the beer garden is virtually empty.

The hardest part to understand is that the band are sounding great, they aren't making mistakes, the vocal is strong and the band sections are well-mixed and clear. Normally you could attribute the lack of interest to the band's performance but when the band plays well it's a case of no respect.

The new album, Tunnel At The End Of The Light, is a continuation not a departure from The Dark Horses' style, smooth, easy rock with a hyper-masculine American Western movie feel. It's executed well with each musician playing their part clinically and Perkins is always there to play the larrikin frontman. The slide guitar and harmonica would be haunting and beautiful over the stoic steady rhythm section if it were to fall on an attentive room. Many people start leaving after the band's cover of They Shoot Horses Don't They from the new album and the band have to constantly ask the sound guy to turn up their instruments in an unsuccessful attempt to reacquaint the audience with the music.

The band plug through old hits and new material like professionals but it's a night that has gotten away from them and you can't help but feel let down.