Live Review: Teenage Fanclub, The Goon Sax

Teenage Fanclub are that bottle of tomato sauce kept in the fridge in perpetuity. Their music is an aural condiment, an indie Rosetta Stone that brings together disparate elements of rock music's recent history without really standing out as something to consume by itself. They are sublime in their anonymous-ism, that innocuous piece of furniture that somehow ties the whole house together. They played a show as part of Taronga's Twilight series, and it was a milquetoast affair enjoyed by a very, very white crowd. It sounds dull on paper, but it was actually kind of brilliant.

Teeth-shatteringly average garage act The Goon Sax opened up. It was mildly uncomfortable to sit through 40-odd minutes of three musicians out of sync, out of tune and (apparently) not giving a fuck. Yes, yes, "that's the point, dick head" or "you have no idea how much we practise". Whatever. It just wasn't great. There are some slivers of insight into the latent existential dread lurking in the heart of banal suburban life buried in their lyrics, and yes, it's admirably reflected in their equally banal songwriting, but Jesus — dig a little deeper. Find the final tiny fuck with which to give. Find the courage if that's what's needed. Find something.

Teenage Fanclub cleaned the floor with a perfectly lovely hour-and-a-half set that flawlessly conveyed an entire career's worth of whatever their nebulous brand of soothing rock actually is. Start Again opened up, and from there they offered old and new material, from their 11th LP Here, right back to their decidedly un-Teenage Fanclub 1990 debut A Catholic Education (Everything Flows, if memory serves). They politely wandered through their entire catalogue, diligently mining subtle veins of gold that kept us warm in the cool night air, without getting pulses racing. At all.