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Live Review: Wagons, Jonny Fritz, The Rusty Spring, Syncopators

19 June 2014 | 9:51 am | Danielle O'Donohue

Of course Henry ended up in the crowd, a little concerned that we were being a bit too musical, telling everyone to, “Just sing your fucking guts out. Don’t worry about pitch, you pedants!” So we did.

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Technical problems caused by a scratchy guitar lead gave Henry Wagons and imported support act Jonny Fritz a chance to put their a cappella skills on show at the Factory and prove that necessity really is the mother of invention.


First band up, The Rusty Spring Syncopators didn't have the same technical dramas, but their instruments were of a much earlier vintage, including a washboard and washtub bass, to play their stomping vintage bluegrass.
Despite the technical problems, Jonny Fritz would've walked offstage with a lot more fans than when he arrived at the Factory. With a voice that shares qualities with the warm, honeyed tones of '70s folk singers, the Nashville native wove tantalising tales about being a music man, and one about the life of a bear that included an enthusiastic audience sing-along.
Showing off new album, Acid Rain And Sugar Cane, Wagons didn't leave a lot of time for older songs in this new set, apart from a couple of trusty old favourites, including I Blew It, Goodtown and Love Me Like I Love You, but there was a great balance to the live set that kicked off with the epic Why Do You Always Cry and the Southern-fried guitar riffs of Chase The Eclipse. The middle of the set included an acoustic solo set by Henry – his a cappella happy accident giving an extra depth to Moon Into The Sun.
Always captivating live, Wagons have lifted the bar with this new injection of songs and the encore was the icing on the cake: a cover of Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys featuring Jonny Fritz and the rousing, crowd-participating finale, the popular Willie Nelson. Of course Henry ended up in the crowd, a little concerned that we were being a bit too musical, telling everyone to, “Just sing your fucking guts out. Don't worry about pitch, you pedants!” So we did.