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Life Café is a venue preferred by artists of a softer slant, and quite predictably, there was not a rebellious soul in sight as we waited for Josh Pyke to appear. The Australian is known as a quiet gem, swapping the indie crash support acts for a more grounded and emotive set from Former Bullies.
Although the crowd are a little thin on the ground (one boy up front), Former Bullies fill the room up with a strong resounding set- vocals with zeal that was unaffected by the seated audience. Faux American accent aside, they presented a stark Dylan-Esque account of $10 Dollar blowjobs and city grime.
Aroused but slightly depressed, Tom Barnes followed with a husky harmonica driven set. Weather beaten and gravely, he resembles darker Damien Rice minus the irritation. His eccentricities shine through in his peculiar footwork and unhinged voice. A guy with promise and definitely one to watch over the next couple of years.
Josh Pyke arrives in matching black garb with his orchestra. The set up breeds the stench of bohemia, and we wait as people finally settle at the front of the stage. With the creeping violins, the beginning of the set looks a bit peaky after the rawness of the support acts.
To say that Pyke smacks of Crowded House may seem like a common cop out for an Australian songwriter. He does, however, bob safely down the middle of the road, creating inoffensive and gentle sounds for the passive listener. ‘Memories and Dust’, Pyke’s new track is an example of his ambling style. His attempts to salt the set with the gratuitous swear word makes us squirm slightly, as it sounds as scolding as a middle class parent.
Pyke’s lyrics are intelligent, poetic and challenging. For what he lacks in stage ingenuity, he definitely makes up for with meaning. Where he borders on pretentious, he balances with sincerity. A tough musician to fathom is Josh Pyke, so we better all just keep sitting on the fence with him.
