I have to confess that I am a bit of a
fan of Gareth Liddiard since I saw him with ‘The Nothing Butts’ backing up Melbourne
rock icon Spencer P. Jones last year at the Thornbury Theatre.
As a founding member of the
Drones, I remembered his work as definitely
good, quite correct, but –in my opinion- it has been in the times when he had
some room to free his quirkiness when his musical style has shined.
At the Worker’s club I saw him
relaxed, having a chat to a couple of guys before jumping on to the –very small-
dark stage, somehow bucolic with a print of a Little-Red-Riding-Hood-kind-of-forest
on the background.
His only weapon that night was an
old Martin, ‘’a bit out of tune due to winter’’ that warmed up as he cruised
through the soiree switching from his troubadour pose to a few local jokes and
anecdotes. It was different to see him on his own. Without his electric guitar his
solo-ing slowed down, and the notes, intentionally clumsy and interrupted, filled
the Worker’s Club to leave the audience quite satisfied about a gig that they
could have missed and never regretted, but saw and will remember for a long
time.
In a few days, a few words on the
opening artist.
Thanks for reading
