There’s something particularly humbling about a band setting up their own set. What’s more, Methyl Ethel drummer Chris Wright appeared to be directing the sound production of support act Reef Prince.
I watched unknowingly as he fiddled with dials and knobs before he wandered to the stage and began assembling his kit.
Despite being a big fan of their velvety hues, the boys’ appearance (27 May, Woolly Mammoth in Brisbane) admittedly took me by surprise.
Four, diverse creatures surfaced to an audience cheer; frontman Jake Webb sporting a circa 2002-style hair clip pinned across his fringe; bassist Thom Stewart bearing similarities to Napoleon Dynamite’s lead character (believe it); and recent addition Hamish Rahn tuning his guitar beneath the wide brim of a soft, sun-safe hat.
Sketch from the Brisbane show - image © @sketchygigs
In a refreshing shun to fashionable lateness, ‘Summer Moon’ broke the eager tension at 11pm sharp, an unexpected start to the set though one that sent the precedent for a strong, sharp performance. Listening back, it makes me wonder why the track didn’t feature earlier on their 2017 album (‘Everything Is Forgotten’); the song sounds like a question mark, hinting at an unanswered inquisition, non-rhetorical.
Almost drawing similarities to Alabama Shakes, ‘No. 28’ drove an element of structure into the wavy sentiments that lingered after the previous song. 2015 record ‘Oh Inhuman Spectacle’ made its debut appearance next, ‘Rogues’ showcasing the band’s exceptional talent and iconic sound that was evidently established and honed in-on even early in their career.
Here, Methyl Ethel’s composition was a touch more wishy washy, ‘easy listening’, I genre I dare say insults the thoughtfulness and depth embedded in their 2017 album. Even still, it’s eerily beautiful. The lyrics of following track ‘Idee Fixe’ were an undeniable standout.
While it’s easy to become transfixed by the band’s hypnotising stage presence or swept away by the twinkling synths, here Webb’s words strike an emotional chord, poetically written and intensely articulated.
‘Architecture Lecture’ tells a stunning story; the distinctively major-scale song reminded me of The Cinematic Orchestra, soft ‘oohs’ in the harmony haunting me even hours later. The tempo changed as ‘Weeds Through the Rind’ emerged, Stewart strumming the bassline with utmost absorption, fortuitously turning his back on the audience at times.
Methyl Ethel’s creepy, kooky origins crept in with ‘Shadowboxing’, to me an audible representation of sci-fi in sound. Crowd favourite ‘Twilight Driving’ proved the perfect platform for Webb’s quivering vocals; it’s pure '80s dream-pop, lyrics laced with a hint of innocence amongst an otherwise stormy discography. “Well it’s the early morning baby, why don’t you hit the snooze?”
The juxtaposition of ‘Twilight Driving’ against subsequent track ‘L’Heure des Sorcieres’ was the ultimate representation of Methyl Ethel 2015 verses 2017; the latter a little less abstract and a little more certain; zero doubt lingers in the riffs of recent releases.
The iconic, twinkling synths of ‘Drink Wine’ then weaved through the audience with a psychedelic flourish, colourful and captivating as a kaleidoscope. The crowd shimmied as Webb lulled the erratic rhythms over with silky, soprano vocals.
Promptly announced as the final track, ‘Ubu’s confident statue certainly sealed a tidily packaged performance, the last lick on an envelope enclosing 60-minutes’ worth of dewy enigma, dazzling electronics and quirky charisma.
Methyl Ethel have an incredible aptitude at exploring several cracks and crevices within a genre that they themselves discovered; no cookie-cutter song structure here, no sir. The boys defy the laws of musical creativity and instead embed an admirable variety of elements into their songs (particularly evident in ‘Everything Is Forgotten’).
Looking back, I do wonder whether the airy-fairy nature of their debut release ‘On Inhuman Spectacle’ was replaced with slightly too much predictability, though there is certainly something defining about having redirected their music to a sound that seems to have more purpose, more rise and fall, more beginning middle end, as opposed to four straight minutes of airy psychedelia; beautiful, yes, though almost in limbo.
One of my favourite elements of their performance was the stage placement of band members; frontman Webb was surprisingly shifted away from the centre and stood to the right, grounded instead by bass player Stewart in the middle and flanked by guitarist Rhan and the drummer Wright at the rear.
Another positive contributor was the venue; despite me having questioned Woolly Mammoth’s acoustics in the past the volume balance between vocals and instrumental proved perfect for Methyl Ethel’s psychedelic tones. Although I was taken aback when the boys first entered the stage, all awkward and obscured by curly tuffs of hair and dorky t-shirts, listening to the band post gig proved that audibly, they’re much more confusing than visually.
Without witnessing Webb’s demeanour firsthand, his vocals are especially ambiguous, almost gender-neutral, highlighted by the bizarre musical auras he sings along to.
Whereas live, on the other hand, it quickly became apparent that Methyl Ethel in fact make absolute sense as a unity; girls’ hair clip, Napoleon Dynamite mannerisms and floppy hat piecing together to produce an utterly stunning, resoundingly out-of-this-world quartet that, despite popular opinion, are on a totally different spectrum to Tame Impala and not necessarily one that lags.
Interesting attire and gender-questioning vocals aside, the only real aspect of Methyl Ethel that confuses me now is the fact that boys are still setting up their own sets pre-gig. A subtle nod to their humble beginnings and simple indication of their emerging status, perhaps, though there’s no doubt they’re flaunting a sound that’s far more complex and refined than any early day musical career.
