Live Review: The Polyphonic Spree

Like a good fuck buddy, The Polyphonic Spree's Tim DeLaughter likes to make sure both parties involved get something out of a night with him. If we, the audience, respond to all his moves enthusiastically he doubles the effort until we are all writhing and screaming in ecstasy. But tonight there seems to be a slight disconnect. Response to the Texan visitors' new material is polite but DeLaughter is looking for more. Previous Melbourne visits have been unhinged evenings of passionate over-sharing. Everyone feels needed at a Spree gig. 

Tonight, the 'pop-up' performance space is a swampy armpit of hot air (DeLaughter calls it “the box”) – it's 30 degrees outside, it's fat-jogger's-jock-strap degrees inside. There's a few sound glitches (the 16-piece band are rumoured to be a tough mix – there's a lot more going on than at a run-of-the-mill rock gig) but they pull off a delirious reading of The Monkees' psychedelic anthem Porpoise Song. Strings, voices, rhythm section and electronics swoop to a false climax before pulling back for the type of extended bridge that normally sends Spree audiences into a frenzy. Tonight it's met with mere approval by applause.

DeLaughter is visibly rattled. He already seemed scattered, even to the point of forgetting the name of the band's new album for a moment. But now, when he stops to talk a bit about The Monkees there are no takers.

Determined not to be participant in a dud root, DeLaughter calls for a drink/smoke break. He casually calls for the house lights to go up – “I want to see you” – and begins to chat. He tells us about his day (he sat by the Yarra) and quizzes us about our weed habits, inviting us to blaze up – “it's safe in here” – and suggests we turn the place into a “big bong box”. It's worked. We relax back into each other – audience now working up to DeLaughter's level of expectation. Before we realise, the Spree are symphonic rocking the fuck out of us.

There are the crowd favourites in the form of Light And Day, Soldier Girl and 2,000 Places plus they throw in an only-released-in-Japan rarity, possibly titled (according to some online digging and YouTube viewings), The Best Part. [The latter comes with a DeLaughter tale of how it was cut from the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack – “I blame Clooney”.] Later, there's even a moment where the band play to fade, leaving DeLaughter to conduct us as a mass choir.

When last-song is called, DeLaughter is finally satisfied with our input as we express disappointment at having to finish just as he figured out our pleasure points. He promises one more song. But even then he's not ready to leave us a sticky mess quite yet. “Encore?” he asks without one band member having left the stage. Ah yeah, let's keep this thing going…

Soon the audience is yelling random requests (top prize to the joker calling for Talking To A Stranger), there's even a disagreement amongst the crowd. “Rocky Horror!!” implores one fan referring to the band's recent Splendour tribute to the rock musical. “Do your own songs!” rebuffs another fan. DeLaughter is torn – he wants to please everyone. The band confers until another voice cries out for My Umbrella. DeLaughter is overjoyed to hear this reference to his old band Tripping Daisy's “first song”. It is performed. And then followed with Rocky Horror's Time Warp which finds DeLaughter off stage and watching his own band from the back of “the box”. He climbs back up to assure us all that it's been good for him and to check if it was good for us. We leave before there can be awkwardness about breakfast in the morning.