“Despite the fact that your head might know better, unremarkable people can make remarkable impressions on your heart sometimes. ‘But I say’ is one of those unfortunate stories.”
Nikki Malvar, lead singer of Tulane, sent me an E-mail. She wanted me to know about the impending digital release of ‘But I Say’ on Grandpa records. I was struck by something within the tone of the E-mail. It was confident without being brash and friendly without being over-enthusiastic. I listened.
It surely says a lot about me but I do love a sad song. ‘But I Say’ is a love song to somebody who is not interested. They’ve moved on leaving you feeling raw, vulnerable and low but you can’t quite get them out of your head. They still fit in with your romantic perspective. You’ll probably still dream about this person in decades to come. They won’t even remember your name.
Tulane are a duo from Sydney. Nikki sings whilst Nikk plays acoustic guitar. ‘But I Say’ is their attention-grabbing debut electro-acoustic folk-pop single. It builds beautifully, orchestrated from the opening bars to demand maximum effect from your heartstrings. You can sense the pain within Nikki’s lilting vocal. This is real life. I defy you not to love.
Australia – I’m 100% convinced that one day when I decide to properly travel you’ll be high on my list.
I knew this before we had the British Invasion. It’s a slow burner of an invasion. Tokes get in the way. But, it’s no coincidence that my first ever blog post on Sonic Breakfast, when I was learning how to do this, was about Jagwar Ma.
And since then, I’ve effused about Courtney Barnett and Australian BBQ’s.
Tonight, I was invited to one venue in Leicester that might convince me to stay here longer than I probably should. Tinny, the venue owner at The Cookie is developing a place that Leicester should love. In the last couple of years, this venue has morphed, expanded and changed. It once specialised in stand up comedy and whilst that’s still a money maker for this enterprise, it now has space and ambition for the jokes to be a supporting actor.
A new 300 capacity venue opens soon next door to the current establishment under the Cookie’s management. This is exciting beyond belief and should further cement Leicester’s growing reputation on the touring map.
It was a free show tonight. I wish people were charged. A free gig hardens people. You know how fucking great the band are but you’re reticent to cheer, dance or unfold your arms because you’ve invested no dosh in it. Sticky Fingers were the band. Hailing from Sydney, they put on a show that was worth a fiver of anybody’s money. I suspect that in Australia, they could charge a whole lot more again.
Sticky Fingers specialise in a sort of laddish rock reggae. It’s a sound that’s probably born out of smoking a bit too much weed whilst listening to Hendrix and Marley. Amidst a stage of guitars (and keys & drums), shaggy hair and moustaches so dated that they’re incredibly cool, Sticky Fingers gave us 45 minutes of laidback, slacker swagger. To call it slacker isn’t to say that there wasn’t energy and effort on display here though because there was in abundance. No, this is a band that could give you three part harmonies without labouring the fact that this is what they were doing. This is a band that could sweat loads on stage but still look chilled. This is a band that should never be confused with the Rolling Stones tribute act that go by the same name.
Uncomplicated cool. Music with confidence but without arsey, artistic pretense. When should I book my flight to Oz?