Susan O’Neil and The Slingers @ The Northcote Social Club.
After arriving at the wrong venue, up the road at the Northcote Theatre, we corrected course and finally walked through the band room of the Northcote Social Club and out back to the bar.
I came tonight for The Slingers, who you can’t help but have heard about if you spent any time in Melbourne’s North over the past few years. They play a strange brand of alternative-country, with more vague and metaphorical lyrics and a heavier sound.
The crowd packs in for their set, and they take the stage somewhat apprehensively. The music kicks off and the crowd mirrors the band’s apprehension, there must be something in the air. By the second some the singer unbuttons his shirt and the crowd starts to move.
They play ‘One More Day’, their biggest song on Spotify and the crowd cheers and sings along. Being close enough to the front to hear the drums raw gives the feeling of a pub gig, which suits their style well. An excellent rhythm section, the drummer and bassist stole the day, carrying the momentum of the band through their meandering songs about towns and places.
A lady in her 70s in front of me turns to the guy behind her and says “it’s nice to dance, that’s what I’m here for”. She has red dreadlocks that have long white roots, and dance she does; she owns the entire front right corner of the stage where I’ve set up. Later she called out that this isher “funeral song”
Around halfway through the set the bassist gets up to sing one, and it was my favorite of the night. A very different feeling to the rest of their set, with a strong no-wave sense of noise. It built slowly and deeply to a crescendo with droning keys and guitar and thrashing drums which felt like they were taken out of a Dinosaur Jr. song. After it’s over the bass player surreptitiously sucks his vape on stage in the same way that one would light a cigarette after sex. It is well earned, a great track.
The guitarist takes off his shirt and now they're almost all in singlets (kmart navy blue, I have the same) that reveal their muscles and their jewelry. I count two gold crucifixes and a gold bracelet. They gleam under the lights. The lead singer steps back to the mic and they play ‘Living In The Age Of Loneliness’, another hit with the crowd. His voice really shines, it has the grit and depth you need to sing songs about the dirt. When the band plays ‘Streets of Tokyo’ he appears as a visage of Elvis, delivering the lines with a wide, jaunty vibrato and dancing seductively with his mic stand.
The set concludes and the crowd moves outside, some intercepting the band to the bottom of the stairs where they get stuck shaking hands.
The Slingers weren’t especially charismatic, nor should a band need to be. They let their music speak for them. While their style is somewhat unique, combining disparate elements from a variety of genres well, I can’t say they bring very much new to the table sonically. The songs were a little safe in their construction and themes, save for the bassist’s song which was more experimental. As much as I enjoyed listening to their well-crafted and well-performed set, no element of it stood out as particularly impressive or memorable. Perhaps I caught them on an off night. I’ll be glad to give them another chance, I’m sure I’ll catch them again at some point.
Now for Susan O’Neill who I, at this stage, knew absolutely nothing about. The two friends I was with left to go to another bar, as did a modest proportion of the crowd, now about two thirds what it had been. I stood at the back on a step where I could lean against the wall and put my drink down to write notes.
She took the stage alone. Her hair tied up high and loose, with scribbles on her guitar of eyes and Sanskrit symbols of the sort you’d see on the plaster wall of the kids who didn’t have a uniform at their school.
She thanked the crowd and introduced her first song ‘Everyone’s Blind’. Immediately her voicegrabs the attention of the crowd, spectacular, with a delivery that is unpretentious and loose. She alternates between fingerpicking and strumming her guitar, and you can feel the change descend in the room as everyone’s entire focus goes to the stage. “Everyone’s blind, thank god so am I” she sings in the chorus.
For her next track ‘Out of Sight Out of Mind’ she brings out a trumpet which she loops to create a rich harmony under her soft vocals. Her voice can be delicate and powerful within the same phrase, and her minimal accompaniment allows it to take center stage, with a wonderful knack for underplaying on the guitar at the right times. The crowd applauds loudly after the song ends insilence.
She offers a lot of chatter between songs, telling us now about her appreciation for Australian trees. She’s introducing her next song with a somewhat mysterious story,
“A child’s drawing a picture in school. The teacher comes up to the child and asks “what are you drawing” the child says they’re drawing a picture of god. The teacher says “but nobody knows what god looks like” and the child says ‘they will in a minute’.”
The song was called “You Are”, and featured only her looped trumpet and voice. A very powerful track. I’m floored by it. I’m glad to be here alone now because to turn to the person next to you and say anything wouldn’t do the performance justice.
‘Carry My Song’, her last of the night was sung half in English and half in Irish Gaelic. Before it she talks about the importance of Irish language, and about how language and its vocabularyinform how you feel and how you see the world. Again she blends her voice, trumpet and guitar together perfectly with the loop pedal. Her songs are beautiful in the same type of way that nature can be, the quality is innate. Outside of her wonderful voice and instrumentation, her songwriting is what shone by the end. An incredibly intimate performance from an exceptional talent, all the way from County Clare, Ireland.