Live Review: Paul Kelly & Charlie Owen, Sweet Jean

13 December 2016 | 1:42 pm | Steve Bell

"Kelly remains front and centre and his inimitable voice soars through the church."

Brisbane's beautiful St John's Cathedral may have taken over a century to complete but it sure is an impressive piece of architecture. The hundreds of eager punters filing in for tonight's Heavenly Sounds concert crane their necks to marvel at its gothic majesty as they haphazardly take positions amid the rows of seats.

It's a slightly overwhelming venue in both size and solemnity, but Melbourne folk/country Sweet Jean take it in their stride. Opening with their entirely appropriate funereal tune Angels Come Get You, it's as if playing such cavernous spaces is an everyday occurrence. Alice Keath flits deftly between autoharp, guitar and banjo while Sime Nugent sticks predominantly to his acoustic guitar, but their contrasting voices mesh so fluidly, driving tunes like murder balled Maureen and the old-timey Greetings From Goodbye. They change the pace with the relatively upbeat I See Stars and finish a short but evocative set with the sombre Parachutes, receiving an echoing applause for their efforts.

The lights dim once more and candles are lit around the altar. The recognisable figures of Paul Kelly & Charlie Owen amble onto the raised platform and immediately take us back to the mid-19th century with parlour ballad Hard Times. Throughout the next 90 minutes, the laid-back Owen displays his multi-instrumentalist skills by moving deftly between keys, dobro, lap steel and guitar while Kelly remains front and centre and his inimitable voice soars through the church. They strip back to duo mode for old standard Pallet On Your Floor and it's perfectly authentic - with just strings and voices it's precisely how it could have sounded a century ago. After another traditional number in the haunting Parting Glass, they move onto the gentle lilt of Cole Porter's Don't Fence Me In, then take tonight's poignancy to a new level with a terrific rendition of Bird On The Wire by the much-missed Leonard Cohen. Melbourne songsmith Maurice Frawley, another fine artist taken too soon, is also remembered by a touching version of his contemplative Good Things, before The Beatles' Let It Be lends its usual dignity to the fray.

Kelly takes the opportunity to showcase another of his recent albums, Seven Sonnets & A Song - his tribute to Shakespeare which found him pairing The Bard's words with modern arrangements. They tip their hat to Owen's past with a run through of Postcard From Elvis - originally from the Tex, Don & Charlie project - then delve back into Kelly's own extensive repertoire with stripped-back takes on The Pretty Place, Deeper Water and Time & Tide. The crowd's biggest reaction is saved for How To Make Gravy, a flurry of iPhone screens quickly littering the landscape as eager punters jostle to capture a memory. Pathos returns when Kelly comments sadly that the last time he was in this church was ten-and-a-half years ago for Grant McLennan's funeral, and that sad recollection still resonates as they wrap up with a quietly stirring finale in the form of Kelly's Meet Me In The Middle Of The Air. The last notes of the night seem to hang in the air long after the band have filed back into the offstage darkness.

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