Live Review: William Crighton, Melody Pool

Melody Pool's soaring, beseeching vocals lead an accomplished band of players to present the Kurri Kurri singer-songwriter's self-described "angry folk".

Audience members' heads tilt, trying to decipher lyrics during a quieter moment in one song while a group of rowdy punters near the bar loudly catch up on their news. Non-verbal cues between the musicians on stage could be a tad more subtle at times. Pool tells us she moved to Melbourne for a coupla' years, but hated it ("it sucked"). There's an ever-present pathos in her timbre and a cymbal-heavy instrumental breakdown is arresting. "She fucks me like a demon", lyrics jump out and startle during Love, She Loves Me, which is delivered passionately while somehow maintaining Pool's sweet vocal tone. She's been through a lot (see Unchained Melody, Pool's Australian Story) — taking a break from music to address mental health concerns — but Pool looks thrilled with how some new material that's presented tonight is received. The Australian music scene needs Pool, a conduit for heartbreaking melodies via flawless vocals. 

While Steely Dan's Reelin' In The Years plays over the venue sound system, William Crighton appears on stage to tune his guitar as punters holler their approval. Crighton boasts an impressive Ned Kelly beard, emphasised by his cropped 'do. Tuning soon becomes a tune as Crighton is joined by his four-piece backing band. His music suits the backdrop, which features the picture of a desolate country road illuminated as if by a vehicle's headlights. Crighton's commitment and exceptional eye contact immediately draw us in. Song two, Jesus Blues, is a right old knees-up in this live rendition and the crowd starts to limber up. Crighton commences this song's, "I want my money back", refrain, singing in trademark faraway-from-mic style, but the audience enthusiastically takes over. "Like you mean it!" Crighton encourages with an appreciative grin. 

His wife Julieanne — about which Crighton penned a song bearing her name as title ("I'll love ya 'til the end, Julieanne") — howls into what resembles a radio mic for BVs and this attention to detail when meticulously recreating sounds is impressive throughout. On a makeshift screen, footage of a female totally undressing in a subway attracts attention. Crighton's dig that if we'd all brought along four friends he could've employed a guitar tech to save time changing guitars/tuning is unnecessary. We're here and that's all that matters.

After explaining it was important for this tour to kick off in Byron Bay, Crighton introduces his collaborator/drummer Matt Sherrod before pointing out they wrote the next song, 2000 Clicks, about growing up together. This evocative tune is a set highlight. Devils Tongue's bass line calls to mind Peter Hook (not a bad thing) in the hands of Josh Jones. After we all enjoy contributing to the song's, "oh-oh-OH-oh", conclusion there's a bit of time out while the bass drum gets fixed. 

Crighton is as adept on guitar as he is as a storyteller. He asks whether we're up for more dancing tunes and the response is overwhelmingly affirmative. After telling us he's been married to Jules for ten years now, Crighton steals a kiss before lovingly performing Julieanne. Introducing And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda ("It's felt a part of me since I was a kid"), Crighton says he felt bad about not checking in with the songwriter, Eric Bogle, for permission to record this song for his latest album so did so after the fact. He then tells us Bogle insisted, "I write these songs for people to sing 'em," which put his mind at ease.

Next up is his lurching beast of a track Fire In The Empire. In complete contrast, Let Love Come First has T Rex swag. Crighton gives his merch a plug, stressing the money from purchases goes directly towards "petrol and things like that". He then cheekily lets us know it's ok if we hated this show as long as we don't tell our friends. Crighton concludes this show simply with "great to see your faces". 

It has to be said that Crighton's music — whether consumed recorded or live — is intense and heavy, often shining a spotlight on and dissecting the dark recesses of humanity's sinister side. Far from a barrel of laughs, but extremely necessary.