Live Review: The Tallest Man On Earth & Chela

There's a line to get into The Hi-Fi this evening, well after doors have opened and the main crowd has filtered through. Once inside, it's possible to see just how large that crowd is; the audience is wall-to-wall back to the bar, and the support act hasn't even started yet.

Chela is an electro indie-pop act out of Melbourne, with a vaguely disco vibe in the rhythm section. Tonight the eponymous vocalist is joined on stage by her live guitarist. The music is an unusual fit for the main act, but that's often part of the fun, and it's certainly not so temperamentally diverse as to be inappropriate. That said, there is something faintly soulless about a performance where so much of the music is coming from a backing track, particularly when the guitarist spends long periods just standing there, unplaying; it lends the set a feeling of slightly over-exuberant karaoke at times. Chela's voice is clean and suits the music well though and the songs themselves are largely fine, she just needs to figure out how to bring it to a live audience.

The Tallest Man On Earth (Kristian Matsson) walks onstage with theatrical steps and awkwardly waves hello, before gesturing the crowd into silence. Once he strums the first few chords of King Of Spain though, there's no holding back the cheers and it's clear that the audience is in the palm of his hands. Matsson, for his part, seems genuinely excited to be playing. There's a twinkle in his eye as he hunches over the mic, one foot hovering off the ground, before running off to each side of stage in the brief vocal breaks to involve the whole room. Matsson balances the songs well, playing them straight enough in the opening and choruses that the crowd can (and does) sing along, but changing things up through the latter verses, to avoid the feeling a too perfect gig can produce, that an album would have given the same result. As he reaches the finale of some songs Matsson pauses, drawing out the ending until someone in the crowd can't take it anymore and yells the closing line, at which point he grins and closes out the track. His obvious joy and good-humour make it an enjoyable addition each time.

The live sound is outstanding. Matsson's voice is better than the albums, maintaining its customary roughness, but with extended held notes and a beautiful mix the purity of his tone becomes more obvious. The ever-rotating series of guitars meanwhile have a lovely warmth and the playing is damn-near perfect. The night is a series of highlights, played by an enthusiastic troubadour to a large and welcoming crowd: the best kind of gig.