Live Review: Jordie Lane, Old Man Luedecke, All Our Exes Live In Texas

Early show Saturday night at The Basement got so folkin' real it was brilliant. Kick off at eight was something of a folk lady supergroup All Our Exes Live in Texas. A new group venture for solo tunesters in their own right (Elana Stone, Katie Wighton, Hannah Crofts and Georgia Mooney), the result was funny, sweet and harmony (and squeezebox)-driven goodness. More, please, more, more! Next was more understated awesome-driven by a much-overlooked folk sound, Old Man Luedecke, and his banjo. The Canadian was first to admit that having travelled most of the English-speaking world, “The banjo seems to be universally hated”, but damn that thing sung like a bird tonight. Old Man even made yodelling sexy (cue sweet punny original, Yodelady), and between hilarious chats about the lost art of yodelling and the financial joys of supporting a young family as a banjo player he also showcased some great tunes from his half-dozen or so releases. Also, please come back.

By headline time Jordie Lane may have been shitting himself, what with the risk of being musically Pippa Middleton-ed by such support. However, he shone just as bright, still somehow inhabiting that rich voice that seems to have come from a country (and era) far far away but with an Australian drawl and cheek to make it familiar. Showing off new EP, Not Built To Last, recording in Nashville, new tunes like the upbeat Here She Comes and sparse Dead Of Night and sat nicely next to some of his older wares (I Could Die Looking At You, Die Straight Through, I Just Can't Take It Anymore). There was also a great tip of a hat to Melbourne songwriting mate Brendan Welch with Think I Always Thought, which was simply gorgeous. Between jokes about what else we could have been doing (“Thanks for coming Sydney, it's horrible weather, and Leonard Cohen's playing, we would have been tempted to go and see him, too”), the faithful and newly-converted were certainly rewarded. Closing it all in singalong tribute to an infamous Bulli local (a story that may or may not be true, but heck, what a tune), it stretched the friendship a little for the electro danceparty waiting upstairs to invade, but folkie folk were well served indeed.