It was difficult to gauge what was to come of my first Necks' experience as the trio entered from the wings of the stage, notably nonchalant in their practical pants.
Hailed by music junkies, the New York Times, and all of your cool friends as ‘the greatest trio on Earth’, the revered instrumentalists had returned to their homeland for a national tour.
According to all sources, the general rules of reviewing wouldn’t apply to these guys; nor the rules of any gig you’ve seen. There would be no sugar-coating, no overt showmanship – just two, blissful hours of long-form experimental jazz said to colour the minds of the audience with the raga-like improvisation they’ve both stemmed from and perfected.
The vague and somewhat mythical descriptions weren’t far off. Lloyd Swanton on double bass, Chris Abrahams on piano, and Tony Buck on drums have made an international name for themselves with their onstage journeys in which they sometimes travel parallel, sometimes cross paths, and sometimes even walk hand-in-hand.
We would watch them decide which it would be on the spot.
Excited applause was followed by sombre silence (which would respectfully last for the remainder of the set) as the first three double bass notes rang out over the heads of the brimming audience (at The Tivoli Theatre in Brisbane on 23 February).
The trio already held a captivating stage presence firmly, wordlessly, and with a noted lack of “how-ya-doin'-tonight?!”-s. The theatrical Tiv was a perfect venue for it, too; the addition of ethereal drums and keys creating a would-be soundtrack to any iconic flick of haunted Hollywood.
Click here to read our recent interview with The Necks.
Over the next two hours, the group spun a musical mirrorball of mutual understanding, reflecting and refracting while we sat and stared, rooted to our seats. The sound switched seamlessly between dream-like and depraved like the scoring of a feverish daydream.
It was a one-night heaven and hell special, the punishing red neon of the ‘Gents’ in the left peripheral and the carved, marble angels of the awning in the right. They were composedly incomplete and infallibly indifferent.
It was difficult to find any fault in musicians who were not here to put on a front. Each of the three members seemed to take unspoken cues to act as the rock that allowed the remaining two to experiment freely.
They riffed off of and in between each other under a blue spotlight in wave after wave of great awesomeness. Cymbals crashed over a growling bass, sucking us out, pushing us back to shore.
Abrahams piano acted as a comforting constant over the latter half of the set, giving Swanton and Buck the go-ahead to frantically rise. He created a state of pure purgatory while the other two chose their sides, letting loose with a torrent of strikingly beautiful melodies made of composure, cohesion, or chaos.
No long-winded, self-indulgent solos here: just harmony at is best and barest.
The audience sat in their long silence, grateful recipients and stunned mullets.
The notes tapered off and the band closed by stating that they would be at the merch desk if anybody wanted to chat, and that is all. For my part, I left in a state of breathless anticipation as I realised that the blistering crescendo we had all been waiting for had been happening from the set's start.
Beautiful in every sense of the word. Definitely one of the bands you casually mention to someone you want to impress when they ask for music recommendations.
