Left – MimesisWe all know white people can't dance. But they seem to have at least as much fun doing just that, regardless. Tragic, but true. The older they get, the funnier it is. Put 'em on the upper north shore, in front of a band playing chamber orchestral arrangements of Stayin' Alive and Stairway To Heaven, and you've a recipe for hilarity.
But before we get to the eclecticism of Mimesis, there are a couple of other acts to discuss.
First up, folk-blues waif, Sean Kirkwood, up from Melbourne. He might hail from down south, but his accent betrays his Aotearoan extraction. If Kirkwood turns sideways, he's liable to disappear, save for his pompadour of blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. In his skinny black jeans, he looks more like he could or should be fronting some grungy indie pop trio, or something. Then again, I seem to recall an obscure folk singer, circa 1960 or so, who turned up in New York, fresh from his native Minnesota, on a mission to meet his idol, Woody Guthrie, looking somewhat similar in appearance; or at least he did, soon after. No prizes for guessing his identity.
The comparison is more than skin-deep. He plays blues harp, for one thing, just like Robert Allen Zimmerman; (though we didn't see or hear it last night). He knocks around with an acoustic guitar and a highly sought after Hermann Weissenborn non-resonator lap-slide Ben Harper introduced him to.
So, he looks the part. And he sure as hell sounds it. (Presumably, Eric Clapton, Jimmy Barnes and The Thomas Oliver Band, to name a few, would concur loudly, as he's supported all of 'em.) One of the first things you notice about him, apart from his flipped over mane of hair and 'I don't eat' frame, is his plucky blues guitar. It's evidenced in the simplicity of his breakthrough single, Next Plane Out which, later in his forty-minute set, he graced us with. Like at least one or two of his other songs, there's a sweetness about its sound and sentiment.
Oh girl, tell me please, will you feel the same?
Well, it's been a while now, but I can't seem to get you off my brain.
Some pretty girls been sniffing' 'round; (don't get me wrong, I like the way it feels).
But every time I see your name I hear three words I feel, but never say.
Absence, it seems, really does make the heart grow fonder, when it doesn't make it go wander. Here's a young man, like most young men, feeling the the pressure of the hard-to-shake, cookie-cut masculine role: 'be cool!', he tells himself. But even while trying to steer a steady course, he's all at sea, pining for the one 'cross-country, or an ocean.
He introduced us to his Hawaiian guitar for Better Man; again showing himself to be an accomplished bluesman, vocally and instrumentally, with a very clean-cut sound, which isn't to say it's in any way characterless. Think, say, Keb Mo'. And like that smooth, laid-back dude, if it's possible to meld authenticity with broad, easygoing appeal (and I reckon it is), Kirkwood not only succeeds, he exceeds. The song itself seems to be a heartfelt personal ode to a loyal believer, backer and benefactor.
I never had much to spend,
All my life, finding you, to lend me a dollar or two,
To pull me through, while I keep on keeping on.
Kirkwood doesn't seem to share Dylan's sociopolitical obsessions. He's more concerned, by the sound of it, with love. And just gettin'by. Which puts him in touch with the grass roots of the blues and bluesmen of yore. But he cuts a swathe of his very own: he has style, but unlike too many faces on the music scene, his has a backbone.
Michael Duchesne recently made something of a name for himself on The Voice, in Team Seal, reaching the top twenty-four, outright. Arguably, he should've gone further. And, while it put him in front of literally millions, as practically anyone who starred in it will tell you, it meant a lot of prodding and pushing, too. Ah, the price of fame! (Not many viewers, I shouldn't think, would know that Duchesne jumped the queue and official audition protocol for the programme, having been talent-scouted by its Executive Music Director, Louise Perryman, when he opened for American artist, Eric Benet.)
It's not something, I imagine, an apparently sensitive, gentle, shy, retiring soul like MD's would wear especially well. Dave Keogh's Eastern Lounge provides, as he puts it, 'a listening venue', which simply means patrons are actively encouraged to have the common decency to shut the fuck up when a performer is on stage.
Mind you, as soon as you hear a few bars of Duchesne's soulful voice, you tend to be hushed. I came to wonder whether, for example, Terence Trent Darby and he had ever been seem in the same room together. It's not that they look alike, but they sound quite akin, even if MD identifies more strongly with Stevie Wonder (he did a very creditable cover of Sir Duke, accompanying himself on acoustic guitar). In fact, his voice has been described as liquid gold; which would be hyperbole if applied to others, but not his creamy caramellow instrument.
He might be a multi-instrumentalist, but it was that well-played guitar that was his sole mate on stage last Friday evening. And he might be just a few years past voting age, but he's been prominent in the band Ebony & Ivory and has toured up and down the east coast. He's also written over sixty songs. So, where does he fit, in the musical spectrum. Put it this way, if your tastes run to Donny (Hathaway), Al (Green), Marvin (Gaye, of course) or the more modern-day likes of Mayer, Legend or Arie, it's odds-on you'll go for Michael. Speaking of Michaels, we could add Jackson to that list. Earth, Wind and Fire. Or still others. Nor would he be out of his league, or depth, in any of that company.
The other cover I recall him performing on the night (who could forget?) was The Doobie Brothers' What a Fool Believes, in which he proved himself a real threat to Michael McDonald; arguably, even out-singing him. He also showed an affinity with the songs and singing of Jeff Buckley.
But for all that and all those great songs, it was his own that were of the most interest. Take Me is catchy; funky; singalongable; danceable. And strongly influenced by the sunny side of Stevie.
Take me, take control of me;
I want you to take me, away!
Summer seems so far and in-between,
Sit and watch leaves turn from gold to green.
I can see your footsteps when it rains,
Tell me how the sun runs through your veins.
And there could be a million ways, for us to see another day,
I can tell you how it's gonna be.
He played a whole swag of originals; unfamiliar as yet, but here is a refreshingly and disarmingly unassuming young man, a fine guitarist and beguilingly soulful vocalist (move over Peabo Bryson) who can scat and whose phrasing is made for jazz, who's also not only a promising songwriter but, already, an accomplished one.
Eclectic is a word that's bandied about a lot and I'm as susceptible as the next reviewer to succumbing to its relative ubiquity. But in the case of Mimesis, a trio of classically-trained musos, it's inarguably justified. Jazz. Pop. Rock. You name it. Mimesis has it covered. Literally. They're a covers band, but that's like saying Ella Fitzgerald just did covers. Besides, their arrangements are so clever, they're almost compositions in themselves.
Ben Marshall (guitar and vocals), Jane Cormack (violin and vocals) and Angus Ryan (cello and vocals) have been together six years, give or take.
Theirs was the first-ever band to play Eastern Lounge, back in 2010. The last time they played the biggest challenge was getting people to go home, apparently. Easy to believe, if you'd seen the dance floor last Friday night, which almost had people spilling onto the relatively few others still seated. Nostalgia, based on songs from a relatively short time ago and those from much further back are what get 'em on their feet.
And you better believe it when I assert you've never heard Van The Man's Moondance, to cite but one example, sound quite like this. Marshall's smooth pop vocal is counterpointed by Cormack's homage to the likes of Stephane Grapelli, while Ryan's cello brings some classical drama. Eleanor Rigby is an especially apt selection for their repertoire, of course; with urgent guitar and vocal, pizzicato, that familiar, insistent cello, it works exceptionally well.
It's all very crowdpleasing, in the flesh; shamelessly, unapologetically so. You mightn't like everything they cover, but sooner or later (and probably sooner), you're number's (more likely plural) gonna come up and, before you know it, you'll be gettin' down with it, shaken' what's left of your booty on that overcrowded dance floor, so skewed by the presence of those of us leaning towards Zimmer frames, Mimesis' reading of Stairway To Heaven seems almost too close for comfort.
Eastern Lounge March 2013
Venue: The Roseville Club | 64 Pacific Highway, Roseville
Date: Friday, March 8
Tickets: $17 pre-paid | $20 at the door
Bookings: http://www.easternlounge.com.au
