New Farm’s iconic theatre is still filling up when an immediately-recognisable tall, slouching figure walks onstage: Ben Salter, a well-known Brisbane singer-songwriter and The Gin Club/Giants Of Science/The Wilson Pickers mainstay. An unannounced support act, he switches between an acoustic and a white Fender Strat for his various solo songs (later announcing he’s readying his first solo album), his distinctive voice seemingly bouncing off the venue’s signature brick walls. “I’m a Catholic fuck… destined to give up, and may good Lord give me cancer” is still perhaps the most self-deprecating lyric written by a local troubadour, while a new number that namechecks the free-spirited West End girls, the 199 bus (West End-New Farm) and the Valley (Brisbane colloquialism for Fortitude Valley, a popular inner-city entertainment district) is likewise rather affecting. In all, it’s the first unexpected (and pleasant) surprise of what later proves to be a singularly memorable evening.
Cat Power, aka Chan Marshall, tonight entirely lives up to her reputation as a notoriously awkward and uncomfortable live performer with an uncanny ability to channel naked emotion. Humble in jeans and a black shirt and with her flowing hair in a ponytail, the Atlanta, Georgia native launches into her praised, minor-key cover of The Rolling Stones’ perennial ‘(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction’ to rapturous applause, immediately following it up with another fan favourite ‘Good Woman’ and casting reverential silence on the seated rows.
Her sharp backing band including The Dirty Three’s drummer extraordinaire Jim White and the impossibly cool Judah Bauer from The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion (who recently had to cancel a long-awaited Brisbane gig due to the floods) on guitar, Chan roams the stage, barely staying in one spot as she sings her own songs and assorted old country, soul and country standards. Soon, it becomes apparent that she won’t “chill”, refusing to bow to an audience member-shouted “take your shoes off!” with a faint “I have to wear them – I’ve got bad feet from all the years of not wearing shoes.” The sparse, yet cavernous backing, with White’s splashing rhythm work and Bauer’s tasty slide and e-bow touches to the fore, only seems to accelerate the tension and bring edginess to the siren’s haunting delivery and idiosyncratic stage movements – which only seem to intensify with every song.
As the minutes tick away, more and more cracks begin to show. On conversational numbers like ‘Don’t Explain’, Chan’s incredible voice makes the listener close the eyes and leave the planet, yet the combo, while being consummate professionals, fall short on the delicate ‘Silver Stallion’. The night’s climactic moment and one of Cat Power’s finest tracks, ‘The Greatest’ manages to be simultaneously heart-stopping and shambolic; Chan audibly whispers “more reverb!” into the mic before storming offstage and leaving the band to churn out a quasi-atmospheric, yet ultimately dampening instrumental outro with a number of false finishes. When the visibly-agitated songstress finally returns for an encore, her amazing take on Roberta Flack’s ‘Angelitos Negros’ – which would normally have climactic potential – sends chills down many a spine, yet fails to erupt like an emotional Spanish-language volcano it is.
But in the end, the show’s still far from being a beautiful disaster and as a torrent of cheers engulfs the room after the final song, a touched Chan bows, curtseys and waves non-stop before ultimately retreating behind the curtains. Cat Power: still unique, still fragile, still arresting.
