On any particular evening, there are 15-20 troubadours occupying some of the smaller stages in Melbourne, armed only with an acoustic guitar and a swag of emotional baggage. Some tip-toe up to the microphone and rattle out angsty little numbers, in between apologising to the audience for existing. Others dispense with the electronic amplification, and frightening the children at the back of the room with hollered exhortations for/against their man/woman/’the man’. Typically, they are rubbish. However, occasionally…

…but, let us begin from the beginning.

Sam Amidon
January 19th, 2012

NORTHCOTE SOCIAL CLUB, MELBOURNE
The Two Bright Lakes label really has a lot going for them right now. Their roster is crammed with bands which inspire the “Oh yeah, I’ve heard they’re good” sentiment. Towards the top of the TBL hierarchy is Otouto, which after several years of training, I think I can pronounce correctly. Their brand of fractured, melodic pop doesn’t lend itself to humming their hits on the way home, but it does make for a cerebral and entertaining three quarters of an hour. As usual, Kishore Ryan (also of Kid Sam, Seagull, et cetera) comes armed with an array of drums/kitchenware and proceeds to do more with his kit than seems possible, all the while maintaining the impeccable posture of a Ghanaian water carrier. But the accolades should go to Hazel and Martha Brown (sharing synth/guitar/drum pad/vocal duties) for their intelligent use of rhythm and counterpoint; this ain’t no verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus outfit. They with their gentle explorations, they make a bold attempt to reclaim a descriptive word that was stolen in the 70’s by a set of long-haired, over-educated douchebags: progressive.

What drew many people to Sam Amidon’s music in the first place was the lush orchestration of wünderkind composer Nico Muhly. Along with Owen Pallett, Muhly is indie music’s arranger-to-the-stars, working with Grizzly Bear, Antony & the Johnsons and Björk, to name a few. Yet nowhere has Muhly been afforded free reign as on label-mate Sam Amidon’s two latest releases, much to Amidon’s (and the listener’s) benefit. This is what led to my trepidation in coming to this gig, as I suspected a semi-full room at the Northcote Social Club was unlikely to pay for the airfares of a twelve-piece orchestra. However, what it did pay for was jack-of-all-trades Chris Vatalaro who, in what seemed to be a theme for the evening, managed to play the drums in every way imaginable, bar ramming his sticks up his nose and sneezing. Musical partner-in-crime and -love Beth Orton also sung harmony for a couple of songs, including a cover of Big Star’s Thirteen, drawing a heightened response from the crowd.

Unlike the depressing, familiar scenes of the opening paragraph, Sam Amidon brought a humility and earnestness to his performance, allowing space for his folk songs (and an intensely enjoyable cover of R. Kelly’s Relief, replete with an audience singalong) to simply be songs; songs that have been around for over a hundred years and don’t need your help to stay relevant thank you very much. Emotional highpoints were not rendered by anything as obvious as an acoustic power chord or a tortured yelp, but rather Amidon found them in the fabric of these time-worn songs; on cuts such as Saro and Rain and Snow the structure was dictated not by the tyranny of a 4/4 bar but by Amidon’s cadences, allowing the melody to unfold like a conversation. The show was also tempered by some of the funniest on-stage banter I’ve ever seen, ranging from impromptu push-ups to a free-jazz violin solo, to a lengthy description of his forthcoming novel about Johnny Depp’s recording career, and murderous tendencies. On second thoughts though, you probably needed to be there…

The converse argument is that if the songs are able to stand up on their own, what does Sam Amidon bring to the table? As far as I can tell, the guy hasn’t lost a loved one in the war or been involved in some macabre murder plot. Maybe he herds sheep in his spare time, I don’t know. But what he does do is afford the songs a level of respect, which actually can be a rare thing in today’s post-alt-nu-dub-noise-electro-wave trends. Don’t get me wrong, I love all of those things but sometimes it is nice to hear something different; interestingly, that something different is an aesthetic which hasn’t changed for a very long time.

Sam Amidon & Otouto
Northcote Social Club, Melbourne
Thursday 19 January 2012

Two years on from the release of their debut album, Otouto are heavily weighting their 2012 live set toward new material. The directions are promising, somehow pushing everything further at once: more rhythmic, more intricate, lyrics, vocals, harmonies, melodies, more synths. And yet more space too—how is that possible, with all of this going on? The only thing there seems to be less of is guitar—but this is no surprise. The (always) spare use of that instrument in Otouto seemed like a vestigial remainder of the ties to an indie rock tradition and to Hazel Brown’s solo beginnings. Whereas, now, the electronic and hip-hop inspirations have largely cast the guitar aside beyond its use for bottom end. Ping-ponging vocal melodies between Martha and Hazel Brown sound great in the second half of the set, even as the band endure technical glitches, out-of-tune keyboards and forgotten lyrics. The fussy, neurotic pleasures of Otouto’s arrangements—including Kishore Ryan’s inventive drumming—seem to have become more satisfying in these new clothes.

Sam Amidon puts down his guitar, drops to the floor in front of his only accompanist—and does ten push-ups. Far from being what one might expect from this calm-voiced archivist and revivalist of desperate old folk songs, Amidon is a playful stage performer. Amidon’s parents are musical and performance teachers, which explains some of Amidon’s flair. Musical athletics and folk sensibility also brushed up against the comedic streak suggested by his Twitter account. He plays songs with due seriousness and care, but reverence ends whenever the guitar or banjo playing does.

The gig takes on a jubilant, exciting air, even as he sings songs of individual and collective woe, pulled out of centuries and centuries of material: from old American immigrant songs to Irish folk songs about politics in Derry to R. Kelly. The audience is entreated to join in on a few singalongs and, at least in the encore, indulges itself in some two-part clapping accompaniment to Amidon’s improv fiddle number. Goodnatured. While Amidon performs, he watches the audience with a keen eye. He seems to feed off and back into it—perhaps the eager participation can be credited to this. Earlier, the audience sang softly throughout “Way Go Lily” from his most recent LP, marking a tender point in the set, even as it followed that burst of manly push ups from Amidon and an equally energetic drum solo from Chris Vatalaro.

Vatalaro was the foil to all of Amdion’s antics. Sat before a drum kit, a laptop, a keyboard and a bass guitar, Vatalaro filled in the texture and detail familiar from Amidon’s LPs. The landscaping work here was done on those recordings by Amidon’s regular collaborator, Nico Muhly, a respected composer in his own right. Vatalaro divided his time evenly between the instruments, sometimes switching between them all in the space of a song. His drumming was prominent, thundering in during the first song of the set—the title track of 2010’s I See the Sign—with the flourish and force of a free-jazz player. If Amidon’s eye was always on the audience, Vatalaro kept his trained on Amidon, finding unorthodox patterns and melodies to fit around the otherwise bareboned folk songs.

Amidon appears in Melbourne tonight as a sideline to his role in supporting Beth Orton on her national tour. At one point, he sees Orton walking near the bar and asks her onstage. This seems impromptu—although the second vocal mic set up onstage is cause for suspicion. They do a run-through of “Johanna Row-di,” as well as Big Star’s “Thirteen”. Not all vocalists work well in duet or backing mode. Orton’s distinctively mellow but searching voice makes her better suited to starring roles—here she wants to slip outside the duet role and find new approaches to the obvious harmony. Amidon, at least in live performance, is also a vocalist who searches for the unexpected note. Their criss-crossing lines—so effective on their own—seem to drift out of phase, cancelling each other out.

But the rambling duet seemed of a piece with Amidon’s musicmaking: alongside Vatalaro’s oftentimes wild drumming, Amidon’s current predilection for ringing a rough, curdled edge around his voice and the performative antics, Amidon unsettled anyone’s expectations of a comforting folk gig. Amidon may be a traditionalist in many ways, but he also wants to escape easy categorisation.

-Ben Gook

As a lone figure, Beth Orton hardly commands attention. Shy, frail and introverted beyond the point of uncomfortable awkardness, she mumbles her audience addresses as she attempts to tune her guitar. On this alone, one would struggle to understand why practically the entirety of Sydney’s beautiful City Recital Hall has been filled – twice over, in fact, across two days – to watch this. When the silence is broken by the quaint finger-picking acoustic guitar and that unmistakable warble, the pieces fall into place. It clicks. It all makes sense. It’s not the aesthetics and the movements that matter in the slightest. They never have with an artist like Orton. It’s the music itself – moreover, the power of said music performed in this stripped back nature that presents little more than the skin and bones of songs old and new.

Opening with a folksy rendition of Someone’s Daughter, Orton sways gently in time with the music, as it slowly but surely washes across the audience and sinks in. Even after over a decade’s experience of performing, the nerves clearly still get to her as she attempts to make small talk in-between songs. She is by no means a tight, professional musical performer; and it’s this unpretentious charm that draws the audience in. Minor fumbles like putting the capo in the wrong place, taking a long time to tune and forgetting what fret the appropriate chord is supposed to go doesn’t make her seem amateur at all – they make her feel more human. Besides, it provides moments of relief from what can be utterly devastating songs of woe, love and loss.

Much of the set is borrowed from her best-known records, Trailer Park and Central Reservation. It’s the new material, however, that intrigues many fans in attendance, who have been patiently waiting since 2006’s Comfort of Strangers. The new songs seem to angle for a much more traditional folk feel, which suit both the aching croon and the resonating yodel of Orton’s multi-layered voice. Of particular interest is a new track that has its lyrics almost entirely taken from a William Blake poem. It is one that, although clearly not written by Orton herself, sees her connect deeply with the words as they are harmoniously sung out. Truly a sound to behold.

Having been away for so long, Orton seemed to use this performance as a re-introduction to her as a singer, songwriter, musician and performer. From the reception to this concert, however, one would suspect that perhaps it might not have been needed. Most seem to have not forgotten at all. With a voice like that, how could you?

BETH ORTON
City Recital Hall, January 17

LOOKING back over my reviews of Beth Orton’s previous tours here in 2003, 2004 and 2006, I realised that some things are, to quote a wholly appropriate for the occasion Joni Mitchell, ”as constant as a Northern Star”.

Orton will look long and slightly ungainly on stage, awkward between songs but amusing in her self-deprecation as she stuffs up an intro or tunes, and then retunes, her guitar. Her voice will crack but never break, its imperfections not just part of her appeal but at the heart of songs of imperfect people who live very much in the here and now, not some mythical land.

Early stumblings and nervous mistakes will settle into a casual and comfortable atmosphere where we find ourselves halfway between living room and concert hall. And a song such as Sugar Boy will be achingly lovely and another like Central Reservation will be achingly desirous – the ache coming in the way Orton’s protagonist is always vulnerable but unafraid of risking it all again.

For all that, what has changed in the near six-year break since that last tour and album is as impressive and satisfying as the familiar comforts. The previously slightly stiff Conceived now feels like a song for a summer breeze: light and shimmery and skimming over the heat. And Shopping Trolley, also from 2006′s Comfort of Strangers, is shorn of its bustle and inherent assertiveness to reveal a more complex, nuanced response.

There is a brace of new songs which augurs well for the promised record. In one, she drops her voice and guitar tuning for a sound that has the pungent traces of old folk music but with the undercurrent of a world of not-so-old narcotics. In another, lines from a William Blake poem, the contrasting and complementary vocals of guest Sam Amidon and her own voice pitched higher, bring to mind the moments of Fotheringay four decades ago. Then, a song at the piano (”Steinway, I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy,” she joked) has the low-ember blues of Nina Simone.

Joni would be impressed and moved. We were.

Read more: http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/music/imperfect-songs-for-imperfect-people-20120118-1q6cv.html#ixzz1jwltKwzK

http://www.inthemix.com.au/events/reviews/52033/
Beth_Orton_City_Recital_Hall_Sydney_17012012

When Beth Orton arrives on stage at the City Recital Hall as part of this year’s Sydney Festival , the English singer-songwriter says “hi!” and quickly picks up an acoustic guitar. There’s no band behind her and no unnecessary fuss: it’ll just be her voice and a guitar for most of the night.

Opening with Heart Of Soul from the 2006 album Comfort of Strangers, her voice immediately fills the silent Recital Hall, as light reflects off her guitar and shines around the walls. With Beth’s voice alone being showcased alongside an acoustic guitar, without the violin and drums we’re used to hearing on the albums, a new vulnerability is brought to her music.

The atmosphere while she’s singing is subdued and it’s as though the audience are afraid of making any noise at all. That’s until Beth, mid-tuning, calls her guitar a bastard and then breaks a string. Hearing her swear at her guitar and despair over not having any more strings is an icebreaker and has us all giggling and calling out support. Beth plays the next few songs on the other acoustic guitar, including Safe In Your Arms which she almost forgets the title of, before delving into another new song on the piano.

During the new songs, Beth is clearly more confident and her voice stronger; it’s clear she’s excited to be playing them to us tonight. Sam Amidon joins her on stage for a couple of tracks before leaving her to continue the rest of the show solo.

Old hits Shopping Trolley and Stolen Car get the best reception of the night and Central Reservation, a track that’s dedicated to “all the people who’ve written to me and asked for it to be dedicated to them,” is another standout.

Beth plays her encore, walks off and despite the lights staying down, many people start to leave. But those patient enough to stay are rewarded, as she makes a surprise reappearance and plays one more song before she “buggers off”. Ooh Child from The Other Side of Daybreak is the last song of the night, played, unfortunately, to a half-empty theatre. It definitely a special treat to hear this song and perfectly conclude such a heartfelt show.

Beth Orton used the small space in the City Recital Hall to her advantage and managed to fill it with her voice, proving that her new songs are as beautiful as her old ones. Now, more than ever, we’ll all be waiting to hear them on a new album.

Just prior to her 2012 Sydney Festival stint, Beth warmed up with a three-song set at The Desk…including a brand-new track!

• Candles
• Central Reservation
• She Cries Your Name

The Untidy Desk series gives you a chance to see and hear some of the world’s top artists in the informal setting of the ABC Dig Music office. You can find the whole series here

Thanks to Bob Boilen and Co at NPR in the States for inspiring our efforts…make sure you check out their Tiny Desk series.

AWESOME!!

The Old Museum, Brisbane, January 15

IT has been six years since Beth Orton’s previous tour of Australia. This time, the artist once known for her work at the forefront of folktronica is travelling light.

Orton has reverted to a stripped-down presentation under the umbrella of her sole acoustic guitar and fine voice. Much has been made of the singer’s relatively low profile in recent times. A commitment to motherhood and a need to refocus on her music has seen Orton re-emerge with a battery of new songs. Shortly before arriving in Australia, Orton completed work on a new album: her first since 2006′s Comfort of Strangers.

Brisbane’s the Old Museum is impressive from the outside: the large space inside provides strong acoustics and, on an alcohol-free evening such as tonight, a community hall feel.

Orton likes to fiddle with various acoustic tunings throughout her set, but it is worth the wait. In superb voice, she began with Heart of Soul, Someone’s Daughter and Countenance. She revealed that much of her new work was written during a stint at Bondi Beach and she performed a handful of these new tunes: all were top-drawer. They newer songs sat comfortably in the mix alongside her “hits”.
Never taking herself too seriously, Orton laughed at the bum guitar notes she hit on Sweet Decline and pressed on. Despite confessing her nerves and refusing to blame any loss of memory for certain guitar chords on her recent pregnancy, she was completely at home on stage. Her patter was a blend of self-deprecation and observational humour. Confessing a love of Brisbane, she marvelled that it reminded her of childhood, quite possibly because “it’s the last place on earth without Wi-Fi”.

The songs flowed and as Orton took to the piano, a new tune, Candle, was a standout. Back on guitar, She Cries Your Name demonstrated Orton’s considerable melodic gifts. She talked of receiving guitar tuition from the late great guitarist Bert Jansch and performed All I Do in his honour.

Opening act and Orton’s partner Sam Amidon returned to the stage to add guitar to Sugar Boy, Shopping Trolley and harmonise on Concrete Sky.

Alone again, she called for requests and from the small barrage offered performed a beautiful reading of Stolen Car.

For an artist who readily admits to being rusty, Orton’s performance was in equal parts sublime and compelling.

Orton plays City Recital Hall, Sydney, tonight and tomorrow, then Melbourne, Adelaide and Perth. Tickets: $55-$65. Bookings: 132 849.