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Karnivool

w/ Sugar Army

The Tivoli – Brisbane, 20th June 2009.

Arriving half an hour after doors open, you’d expect the Tivoli to be packed to the rafters with already screaming and sweating fans, but this 18+ show is far from the atmosphere that this reviewer is used to. Karnivool have sold out tonight’s show, with tickets selling fast for a second show the following night, but you wouldn’t know it. The place is relatively empty, and the patrons that are present are already well on their way to being sloshed and enjoying a long night of ambient rock. The security guards laugh to each other, thinking they’ve never had it so easy – it’s certainly a drastic change from the masses of writhing prepubescent bodies that other bands bring to the venue.

Despite the poor turnout, fellow Western Australians Sugar Army slowly make their way to the stage, seeming more like the house band at a hotel than guests on a sold out national tour. While their recordings sound drastically different, their performance is eerily reminiscent of Karnivool, albeit a watered down and less charismatic version. Patrick McLaughlin’s voice rings loud and clear throughout the venue, but whatever musical talent he may possess is overshadowed by an  overwhelming lack of stage presence.

He alternates between flailing and leaning awkwardly with hands on knees, and while this behaviour would be at home with Karnivool’s eccentric vocalist Ian Kenny, the Sugar Army frontman instead looks like he’s suffering from gallstones. Guitarists Todd Honey and Ian Sherney too lack stage presence, and while musically sound are less interesting than a week long quarantine for swine flu. Drummer Jamie Sher is perhaps the most interesting of the bunch, smiling brightly and bringing some amusement to an anotherwise dull set.

After what seems like a life sentence, the band eventually depart, making way for some rather rotund Karnivool roadies and a light show that Trent Reznor would be proud of. Crowd numbers have swelled dramatically by this time, accompanied by the ever increasing stench of sweat and beer, and complemented by slurred chants of “Karnivool! Karnivool! Karnivool!” Ditching the token backdrop and screens that most bands go for, the band have opted for several vertical LED panels, showcasing only the best visualizers that Windows Media Player has to offer.

Going almost unnoticed, the band slink on stage while an epic opening sequences plays – with what looks like part of a former US president’s speech being projected over the PA and screens. The crowd don’t get it, but they don’t seem to care either, going apeshit once the clip finishes and the band slide into their set. It’s hard to believe that the Western Australians have only just released their second full length album, Sound Awake, as they play like veterans of their craft, and the support is overwhelming.

Opening with tracks such as Goliath, C.O.T.E and Shutterspeed, Karnivool play a surprisingly long set, practically performing their entire discography for the hungry Brisbane crowd. It’s been four long years since the release of their debut Themata, and although the focus of the set is largely on Awake’s tracks, they pay homage with the titular track to the album which made everybody stand up and take notice.

Noticeably absent is the amusing between-songs banter that often makes its way into live shows, with guitarists Drew Goddard, Mark Hosking and bassist John Stockman staying relatively silent during the set, instead opting to look blissfully caught in an LSD trance. Aside from a brief introduction of Deadman, crowd interaction is left largely up to vocalist Ian Kenny, who is not obnoxiously energetic, yet draws the crowd’s attention like Britney Spears to a bucket of fried chicken.

Clad in what he proclaims is his ‘best shirt‘, Kenny’s straitjacket-esque attire fits perfectly with his on-stage eccentricities, as he croons his way through tracks such as New Day, All I Know, Umbra and Set Fire to the Hive. Where Sugar Army vocalist Patrick McLaughlin fell flat, Ian Kenny succeeds in his flailing, adopting Tourettes-esque spasms yet looking entirely appropriate and not at all laughable.

The highlight of the set is undoubtedly Themata’s Roquefort, and Karnivool opt for a horns backing track in lieu of the Cat Empire horns section. Roquefort is undoubtedly a departure from the band’s usual sound, but the crowd favourite goes down a treat, with everybody in attendance happily screeching along and making failed attempts to crowd surf. The band then leave the stage temporarily, only to return when the chants for “Karnivool! Karnivool! Karnivool!” have reached fever pitch.

The encore fails to top the euphoria brought on by Roquefort, however, as the band opt for an utterly anti-climactic finale in Change, parts 1 and 2. While much of the crowd were practically urinating in their shoes during Roquefort, they are much more subdued during the encore, with very few people actually singing along. Unfortunately this was a common theme throughout the show, as many of the more ambient tracks were drawn out and melted into one another, causing the set to feel more like the soundtrack for a day spa for metalheads.

While the set certainly had its lows, the crowd were by no means disenchanted, and it was clear from the chatter and merch line in the lobby that the band had pleased this drunken bunch of Brisbanites. With a second show planned for this evening and sold out shows around the country, there’s no slowing down the colossus that is Karnivool, as their dark melodies continue to attract fans like Bret Michaels attracts tattooed prostitutes. They’re undoubtedly becoming Australia’s biggest and best rock export, and it certainly won’t be long before they’re catapulted onto the world stage.

Review by Janelle Parsons