Live Review: Vintage Trouble, Hamish Anderson

Vintage Trouble frontman Ty Taylor comes out early and gives Hamish Anderson a glowing introduction. It's awesome to see the headliners genuinely supporting their supports. Apparently they bump into each other pretty often around LA, where the young Melburnian's set up shop these days.

Anderson comes on joined by local drummer Daniel Farrugia on the skins and tells us it's good to be back. "I'm from Melbourne and I haven't played here for like two years." A few songs in and some Lippy Larry down front's already piped up a couple times ("What inspired you write that song?" Are you serious dude?), but Anderson handles him with wry humour.

He's already racked up an impressive resume (he was actually the last person to open for BB King) and he's extremely comfortable on stage. He introduces the title track from his recent debut full-length, called Trouble, funnily enough. It's full of choppy blues licks and he's taken off some of the album polish for the live version - a definite highlight. He's got some serious guitar chops, but he's a little too clean overall. It'd be good to see him get some roughness 'round the edges.

Ty Taylor does his second intro for the night, Vintage Trouble's, and from off-stage he tells us to get ready for "the new protocol of soul". Five dangerously sharp-dressed men wander on stage - they've added organist Brian London for the tour - and do a little psych-up huddle centre-stage before grabbing their instruments. We notice Taylor's wearing a peacock feather in lieu of a pocket square while he mentions the band's glad to back in Melbourne where everyone's so sexy. Blush.

Then it's on. Vintage Trouble kick off with more manic energy than most bands could ramp up to with a snoot full of marching powder and a week's running start. Taylor is the living difference between a vocalist and a dyed in the silk suit frontman and 30 seconds in he's balanced on the barrier, grabbing hands in the crowd before leaping back to stage and flossing his zipper with his mic cord.

Each song comes with a prelude from the singer and before things slow down with a soulful unrecorded track, The Battle's End, Taylor preaches acceptance and love, a recurring theme. Unfortunately the vocal's noticeably low in the mix, which is beginning to get concerning, but it seems to level out by the time Vintage Trouble start Another Man's Words. Taylor holds his mic stand close for the track, putting down his bag of tricks to stare out into the dark crowd with heartbreak in his eyes. It's kind of goofy after the amount of grinning energy he's been pumping out but he pulls it off admirably.

He's taken some ballet classes for sure and he spins like a world class dervish before the band bust seamlessly into Blues Hand Me Down. Richard Danielson manages to pull some focus, spinning the sticks over his knuckles before each ear-grabbing snare thump and Nalle Colt shreds like Chuck Berry with a fuzz pedal. They tell us it's the track that let them quit their day jobs and it's completely understandable why. 

Everybody's still dressed to the nines, full suits intact, and we're starting to wonder if Vintage Trouble just don't sweat. The closest thing they get to a breather are the more soulful cuts from their repertoire, which is probably why Gracefully is next on the list. Taylor explains, "When you run around and call yourself Trouble, when you run around party a lot," people sometimes think you can't be a romantic, but hey, "without the quiet moments we wouldn't appreciate the wild ones." As he croons about being lost and being found we totally agree.

A Vintage Trouble crowd is an interactive crowd. There's call and responses, hands in the air and clapped rhythms all night. For Doin' What You Were Doin' Taylor informs us "we're gonna move together, Melbourne" and with minimal prompting the entire room is stepping left and right, leading with their heads like Chris Tucker in Rush Hour. He even gives us the Cab Calloway treatment, belting out increasingly complicated fills and holding out his retro rectangle mic so we can do our best imitations. Boom, he's into the crowd again, this time leaping the barrier entirely. A slightly panicked security guard follows after, waving his lanyard about in an attempt to keep people off the mic cord. The people clear a path down the middle of the room and Taylor runs under an arch of joined hands back to the stage, the beleaguered guard quick on his heels.

Knock Me Out begins with Ali's famous, "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee,” recording. Even without the harmonica it's an absolute ripper and Vintage Trouble back it up with another unrecorded song, So Sorry - "When you’re a type-A person, it’s hard to admit you're wrong. Basically ‘cause you’re always right,” jokes Taylor. Stand-in London pays for his ticket twice over right there; his big gospel keys make the song. Toward the end someone hands Taylor a trombone and we wonder why this is the instrument's first appearance.

Relieved of his brass (aw) Taylor says he "ain’t gonna bullshit” and takes off his suit coat (aw shit), "This is Run Like The River." Colt sends out shivers with that glorious, irresistible slide guitar. Taylor switches to a cordless mic and it's back into crowd he goes, this time all the way off the dancefloor and up on the high table in the middle of 170. He motions everyone in close until he's surrounded by a writhing mass howling "run baby run" back at him. “Now throw ya hands up!” exclaims Taylor and leaps into the crowd. This reviewer tore a shoulder ligament a couple weeks back but when Ty Taylor throws himself at you, you toss your damn hands up, and this time the frontman returns to the stage over our joined hands.

Vintage Trouble vacate the stage after a breath-catching Nobody Told Me ("Sometimes we get busy and forget to tell people they are loved"), but there's no way in hell they're not coming back for Pelvis Pusher. After their inevitable return they promise that, “We gonna double it, up here and down there." Rick Dario Bill leads by example, bopping on the spot and riffing that thick 'rattle-shaking' bass line. With everyone's pelvises spent, Vintage Trouble drop their instruments and this time they all jump the barrier singing as the make their way out through crowd.