Live Review: The Dunes, St Morris Sinners

Elvis memorabilia, Buddha and the Virgin Mary adorned the walls of the Grace Emily Hotel. The odd yet familiar decor is much like the crowd that came out to see The Dunes.

Young and old played darts or relaxed by the open fire, clearly regular visitors of this intimate pub. The psych-shoegaze five-piece have taken over the Grace Emily every Friday night this August and tonight was no different.

St. Morris Sinners kicked the night off with their sleazy, blues rock. Dirty guitar lines, shuffling percussion and screaming, punkish vocals made for a jolting combination. Singer Stephen Johnson moved agitatedly around the stage, leering into the crowd and reciting his honest tales with conviction. The four piece slowed downed slightly with a harmonica driven jam dedicated to a mullet Johnson saw the other day. A lone lighter flickered in the air and a couple tried to slow dance but the moment was over quickly. St. Morris Sinners ended with more distorted, garage rock and howling vocals.

Between acts the crowd changed drastically. Gone were the stomping, young dancers replaced by beer in hand, Wham! reference making punters. The Dunes eased into a tranquil instrumental and singer Stacie Reeves swayed with her back to the audience, her long decorative kimono reflecting in the light. A haze of guitars and dark keys built steadily which were balanced by sultry, reverb heavy vocals. After the first song bassist Adam Vanderwerf broke a string which halted the set momentarily. But it was quickly fixed and the crowd welcomed the return of another hypnotic bass line.

The Dunes are self-indulgent and meddle the lines between psychedelic and fuzzy, dream pop. Reeves lost herself in the music, eyes closed and arms floating above her head while her band mates concentrated on their instruments, barely interacting with one another. Someone in the crowd muttered, “Not groovy enough”, but they weren’t trying to be groovy. The sombre, organ sounding keys, haunting guitars and plodding drums prove otherwise.  

Reeves humbly thanked the crowd as their set came to an end and the drone of guitars lingered in the air. The Dunes wandered off stage, perhaps over to the bar for a drink, ready to do it all again next week.