Vivid LIVE 2011 Pt 1: Cut Copy, AiH, Spiritualized, The Cure

AARON CURRAN immerses himself in the opening few days of Vivid LIVE 2011 to gauge its success as a cohesive music program and a relatively-young festival; a state government-funded one at that. First up: Spiritualized, Cut Copy, Architecture In Helsinki and, of course, The Cure. Photos by PRUDENCE UPTON and DANIEL BOUD.

I’m attending some 11 events over Vivid LIVE’s 10-day run, which is exciting but a little daunting: will the repetition of visiting these hallowed sails day-after-day drain my enthusiasm for those performing? Will it all start to feel predictable and a bit too much like hard work?

In the interests of full disclosure, it’ll be difficult for it not to. Though I’m not involved in the festival this year [ed. you didn’t think we’d be doing a Goetze, did you?], I worked on last year’s Vivid LIVE, meaning I’m oh-so-familiar with slogging my way up a rain-soaked Circular Quay to the country’s (the world’s?) most famous venue. But I’m curious to witness the 2011 program, molded by local promoter and Modular label head Stephen Pavlovic, especially in comparison to last year’s noisy mixed bag curated by Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson, as I am ambivalent about the merits of some events selected by New York City’s first couple of art-rock, despite being a firm fan of both.

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.]

In 2010, Reed and Anderson were criticised for programming relatively-few Australian acts. This year, the barbs and brickbats have been aimed at Pavlovic for daring to program acts from Modular’s own roster, never mind that such programming directly addresses the absence of local artists in 2010. In both cases you could say that the criticisms miss the point, for the same reason: Why is it so unexpected that these invitees would program what they know? Isn’t that what we want of them? Choosing acts the curators have no commercial or artistic history with may balance the scales for some, but it won’t necessarily represent the very strengths that have lead to them being asked to participate in the first place.

The criticisms paled when Pavlovic delivered The Cure’s Reflections as a late-announced addition to the lengthy bill, a centrepiece and world-first event that few artist-curated festivals can match. Robert Smith’s interest in Vivid LIVE was reportedly a by-product of Modular’s invitation to him to work with Perth’s Canyons; such opportunities aren’t borne in isolation, so expecting Pav to forego his own business interests and relationships to realise Vivid LIVE isn’t just impractical, it’d undermine the very potentialities that could make this year something special.

So is Vivid LIVE 2011 special? After a restrained launch last Friday night (May 27), it’s now starting to feel like it. Much of that buzz has to do with the giddy, gorgeous light installations and projections that have transformed the city’s walkways and buildings, including the Opera House itself, and the unmitigated success of Tuesday’s marathon performance by The Cure in the Concert Hall. But first, Spritiualized.

A disembodied female voice opens proceedings, eight spoken words: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are floating in space.” Jason Pierce’s lauded outfit - augmented by strings, a horn section, and a gospel choir, with some 30 people crowding the Opera Theatre’s stage - give two performances of an album that trounced OK Computer in many best-of-year polls when released back in 1997. Pre-millennial themes of technology, heartbreak, pharmacology and alienation must have been all the rage that year, but does it still hold up in a live context, played in original running-order, almost 15 years later?

For the most part, yes, but ironically it’s the new elements that most impress – the chorus of Elvis Presley’s ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love With You’ that the choir slips into the title track, or a blistering harmonica solo in ‘All of My Thoughts’ that eclipses the original. These subtle developments creep into the familiar, confounding expectations if only for a moment before each song’s well-worn structure reasserts itself, and then I’m back listening to the CD instead of experiencing something more.

There are other constraints. Pierce – seated, shades on, for the entire performance – offers little in the way of stage-presence; the string section is lost in the unforgiving acoustics of this theatre; while the strobes are enough to unsettle all but the staunchest of psychedelic explorers.

But the gentle yet devastating power of ‘Broken Heart’ and ‘Stay With Me’, the somnolent space-jazz excursions of ‘Cop Shoot Cop’ and the motorik-gospel groove of ‘I Think I’m In Love’ outweigh these limitations, and my fellow astral-travelers and I exit beaming, despite an admittedly-unremarkable encore of Let It Come Down’s ‘Out of Sight’.

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.]

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.]

Back to the Opera Theatre on Sunday evening for Architecture in Helsinki, this is my first time seeing the Melbourne synth-popsters but I’d say I’m in the minority as there’s a warm and supportive atmosphere tonight. And yet this is a room that encourages seated viewing and it feels like its holding many back – there’s not a lot of room to dance and you’re going to block the view of others if you do. There’s an audible response from the crowd when singer/keyboardist/all-round-good-egg Kellie Sutherland says, “It’s weird having everyone sitting down, isn’t it?” But it still takes a few more songs before most take to their feet. It’s a welcome move. Until that point the performance felt a little stilted despite the obvious effort the band has put into preparing choreographed stage moves and dynamic interplay.

Newbie that I am, its striking how much more catchy and compelling I find the tracks sung by Sutherland; she’s got a grand voice for pop. In contrast, when Cameron Bird takes the mic I find my memory wandering (predictably) back to the ’80s and unflattering comparisons with some of Countdown’s least-impressive clips. This makes me feel a little guilty, as the energy and humour exuded by the whole band – not to mention their guests: two sax players and a troop of eight choristers, Frankie cover stars all – is more than commendable.

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.]

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.]

Time for a quick break at the Sony Lounge, the festival’s pop-up bar on the western side of the building. With just some simple wire dividers and diaphanous curtains, the formidably-austere foyer space has been broken up into separate sections. There are comfy chairs and Stanley Kubrick’s Spartacus on a video loop and up-and-coming local DJs to keep the sounds humming. In the evening you need a Vivid LIVE ticket to get in, though I hear it’s open to all earlier in the day. Don’t miss spending some time here before it reverts once more to a cold, ascetic hallway.

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Across to the Concert Hall for Cut Copy and it’s unsurprising to see the hall is little more than half-full, given they’ve just played at the Enmore only a fortnight ago. Again, the audience seems restless, but even more determined to shrug off the conservative confines of the venue – whether imagined or actual. There’s a narcotic edge to the room too, much more than for, say, Spiritualized. The stage is set with an array of lights and tropical plants, with a large white door in the centre through which the band emerge, looking fabulous. All that’s missing is an intro tape of wild animals screeching and mating and we’d be right there in some Ballardian post-apocalyptic urban jungle.

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.]

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.]

The crowd rise to their feet and most stay that way for the night, throwing their arms in the air when a trio of latin percussionists join in, lifting the roof when the band play favourites like ‘Lights and Music’, ‘Hearts on Fire’, and ‘Take me Over’. Lead singer Dan Whitford is charismatic enough and has a capable set of pipes, not to mention a strong sideline in messianic arm-gestures, though it’s interesting that the crowd-response really ignites in the instrumental passages. Also the energy sags every time a song concludes, just like when a DJ fails to cross-fade and silence intrudes into a mix (maybe they should play some wild animal noises between songs to help the segue?). It’s ‘Need You Now’ for the encore and what do you know, Cut Copy has engaged the services of a choir for the final numbers – will a gospel-ensemble become de rigeur for every performance in the program?

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.]

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.]

Well, not on Tuesday evening at least, at what for many will be the pinnacle of Vivid Live 2011. The last line of Australian rock writer Jeff Apter's biography of The Cure, Never Enough, quotes singer Robert Smith as giving one concrete assurance: "I will certainly not be wearing black and lipstick in 2011. That's a guarantee". Smith was wrong on both counts – see photo – but there's no other missteps tonight.

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.]

Hearing The Cure’s first three albums in one-hit is a pretty gloomy night’s listening, by anyone’s measure. So how come tonight’s Reflections, a chronological run-through of those early Goth milestones, has such a joyous, celebratory feel?

Perhaps because it features much-loved band members that haven’t appeared with Robert Smith in many years – particularly cuddly keyboardist/percussionist Laurence Tolhurt, who famously left The Cure in 1989 amid acrimonious accusations of greed and alcoholism – playing songs that haven’t been performed live for decades (if ever). Also because many in the audience have gone to such great lengths to be here, both in distance traveled and (for some) price paid, and certainly because the majority has spent most of their lives mouthing Smith’s mordant melancholia, for he is as much the bard of the bedroom for the post-punk generation as Leonard Cohen was for the baby boomers. The passion and commitment of the audience is on display from the outset, with most dancing and whooping – yup, you heard me, dancing and whooping – for the full 44 songs, across almost four hours and three weighty encores.

There’s only one problem with Three Imaginary Boys, the band’s debut LP and concert opener tonight: it’s just not that great a record, a fact Robert Smith seems all too well-aware of, smiling as he dismisses juvenilia like ‘Another Day’ and ‘Object’ (“I never really liked that one,” he smirks. Me neither, Bob). But tonight the taut melodies of the three-piece far exceeds the playing on the original album, particularly the insistent thrum of Simon Gallup’s bass. Still, despite favourites like ’10.15 Saturday Night’ and ‘Fire in Cairo’, the first set feels like a warm-up for what’s to come. “In the old days that was it,” mutters Smith, “but we have other years.”

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Keyboardist Roger O’Donnell, whose work is such an integral part of albums like Disintegration, joins the trio for Seventeen Seconds, which includes the first obvious highlight, ‘A Forest’, performed in its original abbreviated-glory rather than the extended workouts that have marked the song’s more-recent concert appearances. Smith is in fine form - precise, powerful guitar and a voice that, if anything, has gotten much stronger over the years – and the band and mix both sound fantastic on tracks like ‘Play for Today’, despite the notoriously-fickle acoustics of the hall.

Another quick break and we’re back for that monochromatic classic, Faith, the fans cheering Tolhurst’s first appearance of the night (one, it has to be said, of limited real contribution: merely cymbal work, basic percussion and some synthesiser in the encores. Still, there seems something symbolic about having the band’s co-founder return to the fold). ‘Other Voices’ swam around us, while the keyboard-lead ‘All Cats Are Grey’ is particularly haunting. ‘The Drowning Man’ has a lucid intensity, followed by the throbbing lilt of the title track which closes the official part of the evening’s proceedings.

Cure fansites have been speculating about the encores for weeks, though not many guessed we’d get a whopping three-part, 14-song run-through some early singles, B-sides, and even later-classics like ‘The Hanging Garden’, ‘Charlotte Sometimes’ and ‘Let’s Go To Bed’. ‘Killing an Arab’ sounds glorious but has Smith changed the chorus? It doesn’t sound like he’s singing the word “Arab” anyway. ‘Jumping Someone Else’s Train’ segues effortlessly into ‘Another Journey by Train’, emphasising again how tight the band are. They stroll home with ‘The Walk’ and finally ‘The Love Cats’, every one of the 2000 attendees is up and dancing, singing along to every word. Smith, understandably, looks knackered but happy, just like the rest of us.

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At the exit, I overhear someone saying that they’d come expecting a funeral but the show felt more like a party than anything they’d ever experienced at the Opera House. This becomes an underlying motif of Vivid LIVE at its best. The highlights so far have similarly been when expectations have been challenged, whether changing the usual energy or layout of the Opera House’s spaces, or taking existing work into new territories.

It’s those events and elements that arrive garbed in the delightful guise of unexpected surprise that I’ll be seeking out across the remainder of what has the potential to be an astonishing array of performances: Odd Future, Sonny Rollins, Bat for Lashes, The Avalanches, Tame Impala, 2 Many DJs and (hopefully) others that I don’t even know I’m about to see.

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COMING SOON: Odd Future, Sonny Rollins, Bat for Lashes, The Avalanches, Tame Impala, 2 Many DJs, and more.