Live Review: Ash, Big Orange

It may now be 18 months since The Rosie had its major refurbishment, ditching the circular bar and opening up more precious space, but it still manages to capture one’s breath when a venue clearly takes its music seriously. So when Perth’s own Big Orange take to the stage, they seem almost in awe of being allowed to even be there. The three-piece (tonight expanded to a five) occupy their spaces meekly, like an early Pulp minus a preening Jarvis Cocker figure crossing a bridge to languish in The War On Drugs’ smoky dreams. Singer Daniel Davis tonight seemed a little too self-deprecating, perhaps believing his band weren’t worthy, but their nine-song set (featuring most of last year's Streets EP) showed that they really are. They just need to want it a bit more.

Considering the fractious gestation of this year's Islands LP, to see Ash bound on stage with the energy of teenagers discovering alcopops was a real kick. With Tim Wheeler proudly sporting his Movember effort (he missed a trick not passing a bucket around for change), the Northern Irish lads delighted in mixing the new songs with the old. Opening with the new album’s own True Story was a decent easing in, distilling the things Ash do best; keeping things at around three minutes and having Wheeler riff on a gorgeously simple pop hook. Then it was onto the older stuff with Kung Fu (one of five songs to appear from 1996’s iconic 1977 album) putting that lovely new Rosemount roof in danger of being enthusiastically raised. Still operating as a trio and with no extra frills, Wheeler’s V-guitar, Mark Hamilton’s bass and Rick McMurray’s skins (not forgetting his glockenspiel on Incoming Waves) managed to wallop plenty of welly. Here’s a band who were too brash for Britpop, recording the 2004 album Meltdown in an apparent state of Iron Maiden envy, yet forged beautiful punkish power-pop classics in singles like Shining Light and A Life Less Ordinary.

Sure, some singles are starting to lose a little sheen. Tonight’s versions of Jesus Says and Orpheus could maybe have made way for Envy or terrific newbie It’s A Trap. And occasionally Wheeler’s vocals sank back a little too much, only to bounce back with a vengeance on Numbskull (the one where Mark screams), but what Ash delivered was a simple reminder of how much fun three blokes can make with three instruments. And a glockenspiel.