Jeremy NealeWalking into Black Bear Lodge, you can tell that abandon is going to be the order of the night.
The bartenders have to hustle to cater to the crowd chasing down drinks, the talk is loud and the excitement about getting a chance to dance is growing. Local four-piece Youth Allowance (pictured left) are first up on the stage tonight, but their set makes it clear they’re not going to stay around the bottom of bills for much longer. With their evocative indie rock riffs, Youth Allowance sound like they could be a soundtrack to quiet contemplation or a burgeoning dance party. That dichotomy is rare, and the audience watching the band seems to appreciate this fact. Though they’re only up on stage for a short time, Youth Allowance win some new fans with their powerful set.
Sans Parents kick up the tempos a bit with their summery indie rock tunes. With nods to Australian rock royalty like Something For Kate and Jebediah, the band’s tunes benefit from an immediate familiarity that makes the crowd want to party on.
Jeremy Neale and his posse hit the stage with all the force of a Kung Fury high-kick and the crowd response starts to grow from the first song. When the singer first burst onto the scene with rambunctious party animals Velociraptor, his sound was rooted in '60s surf rock and psych. With his solo band, Neale seems interested in modernising his sound. Not to the present day, that would be far too modern, but to the heady 1980s yacht rock era. It’s an odd period of musical history to fetishise, but Neale and his gun-slingers really seem to share a real reverence for all things '80s. And it comes across strongly during the cuts off an album that Neale promises isn’t far away.
Even as they contend with an at times muddy sound mix, Neale and co get their biggest responses with these new tunes. Hold On Together, the single which the tour has taken its name from, is easily one of the strongest in Neale’s oeuvre. Not since Maverick and Iceman were on that highway to a dangerzone has a saxophone deployed in a rock number sounded so evocative. Evocative of what exactly is hard to tell. Nostalgia? Hipster irony? Excellent homoerotic fighter pilot films that certain journalists will never forget because their mother was watching as they gave birth to, and subsequently named, them? But hey, fuck it, if a group of twentysomethings want to remember the at times decidedly questionable music of a generation that they were not alive in, good for them. And good on Jeremy Neale for being their wingman and just letting the bloody kids dance.
