Photo: Tom Gilhespy
Good word of mouth always helps, and Baseball have it. It’s invariably the same word, too: wild. Before their set, both Joe and Andy Snowman sing their praises, and then there’s the photographer who wants to recount the story of how he nearly had his eye poked out with a violin bow the last time he saw them. And untamed they are. The all-female rhythm section turns out to be much harder and heavier than they look; their guitarist does what’s needed, rather well; and frontman Cameron Potts (aka Thick Passage, for reasons unknown) turns out to be, well, genuinely wild, in a stationary sort of way. It’s hard enough turning the violin into an effective rock and roll instrument at the best of times, and harder still when you’re shouting as if to be heard across a continent, but Potts manages it, all while standing in a weird, split-legged pose that’s presumably intended to let him play and holler at the same time.
Built on heavy but fluid bass and excellent drumming, Baseball’s music is a blend of rock and folk with some noticeable Middle Eastern influences. Without it necessarily being a deliberate move, there are elements of performance art too. Songs take off and then suddenly stop dead long before their ideas are exhausted, in one case just in time for Potts to bark out “She bakes cookies.” (That, at least, is what it sounds like.) Sad to say, there’s no telling whether he sees that as a good thing or a bad one, and after thirty minutes or so the set stops dead far too early as well. Further investigation is obviously required.
When Snowman start it seems as if they might not. The lone snare beats that open Our Mother (She Remembers), and their new album, seem to stretch out forever. Joe McKee shakes and trembles, as if he’s struggling to find the energy he needs to deliver the set, but then he finally explodes into action. Looking back, it’s no wonder he takes his time, because it’s such an intense piece and McKee knows something that the audience doesn’t just yet. By the time we reach the third song, the secret is out: we’re going to get Snowman’s new album in its entirety. It’s a brave move, perhaps even a foolhardy one, but perfectly understandable. The Horse, The Rat And The Swan is an astonishing work, representing a huge step forward from their debut, and Snowman have every reason to be proud of it.
Trouble is, it doesn’t translate to the stage all that well. It’s an immensely ambitious album, but it’s also dark, difficult, and rather complex. Much of its intensity comes from the multiple layers of sound and the pristine recording; with the simplified arrangements there’s often a sense that something is missing. And, of course, once you’ve realised that they’re presenting the album, something else is lost: the possibility of surprise, something that’s always been one of the key weapons in Snowman’s armoury.
As gigs go, tonight’s is somewhere between good and excellent; as Snowman gigs go, it’s a step backwards. The positive is that as musicians, Snowman are still improving. Joe McKee, in particular, is a far better frontman than he was a year ago. Yet so far as the audience is concerned, the decision to play the album in its entirety has other unwelcome side effects: excellent earlier material is ignored, and Andy Citawarman no longer takes his turn at the centre of the stage. Previously he and McKee alternated in their duties as lead vocalist; with the new album it all comes down to McKee. It seems churlish to complain – many bands would kill to have someone like McKee up front. But the same bands that would kill perhaps once or twice for McKee would happily blow up rush hour trains for Citawarman. He’s one of those natural performers – someone who can play with the deepest, most dangerous emotions while engaging the entire audience – yet for most of the set he’s sat behind his keyboard.
In the end, it’s a night of mixed feelings: Snowman are excellent, but not as good as normal – and that’s despite the fact that they’re a better band now than ever before. Their new material is outstanding, but doesn’t work as well live. The worst of it, though, is that the current Australian tour is Snowman’s last before they head to the UK later in the year. With one-way tickets. They’re going to be missed, and how.
