Live Review: The Whitlams

The Whitlams may not be the Hottest 100-topping band adored by 'the kids' anymore, but this has arguably worked in their favour since their fanbase is now both old enough and flush enough that they can drop $100+ for a seat in the packed Hamer Hall. For the musically adventurous frontman Tim Freedman, it's an ideal situation – he seems completely content sitting at his baby grand with the Melbourne Pops Orchestra behind him, taking cues from conductor Nicholas Buck.

The collective musicians work their way through a set encompassing Freedman's decades-long career: there are beloved classics (You Sound Like Louis Burdett), recent releases (Don't Be Proud, off Freedman's solo album Australian Idle) and unexpected gifts (long-dormant B-side Real Emotional Girl).

The set is strong, no doubt about it. However, anyone familiar with The Whitlams' onstage style knows that they can generate big, room-filling sounds with just the regular band and Freedman's unique voice. For this reason, it doesn't seem like the arrangements make quite enough use of the Melbourne Pops Orchestra. Sure, having the strings chime in on the big chords of No Aphrodisiac sounds great, but it doesn't necessarily make the song any greater than it already is. There are, of course, a few exceptions: tracks that use the orchestra beautifully and completely. Keep The Light On, a song that normally leaves the heavy lifting to the piano, lets the orchestra shoulder the burden of the counter-melody with lovely, lilting grace. Charlie No 3 is simply transcendent – the big, desperate howl of a chorus is pushed into another realm by the power of instrumentation. The surprise highlight of the night is a performance of the 1905 soldiers' song Two Little Boys, arranged for the orchestra and with the vocal performed by Freedman. It's astonishingly, powerfully beautiful and endowed with considerable tear-jerking properties. 

The evening ostensibly wraps up with Thank You (For Loving Me At My Worst), but it's a bit difficult to pretend you're not coming back to play an encore when you leave an entire orchestra behind onstage. Freedman performs The Curse, a heartbreaking ode to his former bandmates, before ending the evening on a more uplifting note with Gough. Several audience members leap to their feet to applaud The Whitlams as they take their final bow and everyone seems to leave with a smile on their face at the perfectly reasonable time of 10pm. It's only 'the kids' these days who stay out late, after all.