DMA’S – LIVE: REVIEW
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DMA’S
Metro Theatre, March 27
THOUGH MATTERS WERE HELPED were helped by several nights of unforgiving lashing rain, mixed fortunes in the footy, and what seasoned meteorologists call a really bloody cold March day, creating Manchester-by-the-harbour is no small feat.
In a conundrum as hard as deciding whether you are red or blue, do you go for the swagger and psychedelic dance, or the insolence and big hook rock? Some old school harmonies and maybe meaningful/maybe not lyrics, or songs for the terraces and the occasional beery/teary ballad?
Dammit, say Sydney’s DMA’s, why not some of all of them? For example with a song like Silver that is made to throw your arms around your besties and say we don’t need naff Sweet Caroline for bonding, and Step Up The Morphine, whose chords are dreamy and vocals at ease. Or Lay Down, where your bassplayer goes the grooving Mani and your guitarist throws great John Squire lines, and So We Know, which begins as pure languid Oasis and explodes late into Stone Roses groove and waves.
And dammit, in a room much smaller than they are used to these days – a trade-off for intimacy that in the end just proves what a good rock room the Metro is when it’s packed and pumping and belting out every line of Tape Deck Sick – don’t they pull it off spectacularly!
But then, given this gig is a tenth anniversary celebration of the debut album, Hills End (yes, band and album name do suggest a freewheeling attitude to apostrophes), which is played in full in the first set, revisiting and remaking one of north west England’s music capitals is second nature for the core trio of Tommy O’Dell (minimalist vocalist with the baggy gear slouch and lads-with-me delivery), lead guitarist Matt Mason (the flash of aggression under cap) and rhythm guitarist Johnny Took (charismatic showman on acoustic and suit).
Where's the northwest? Matt Mason (L) and Tommy O'Dell (R) know. Photos by Charlie Hardy
And second nature is first rank in the company they keep, captured in the unity of In The Moment. Unlike Melbourne, which has a chorus newcomers could sing before the end of its second appearance in the song – and which after 10 years pretty much everyone in the room could do as naturally as breathing - In The Moment is a song where the refrain doesn’t so much step out as stand up straighter. But in its declaration that “this is yours now” is an accidental little reminder that for the audience these are their songs now as much as the band’s.
The weakest moments of Hills End, such as the far too generic Straight Dimensions and the harmless The Switch, show the perils of album-themed set lists and early days of a band learning who it wants to be. But the best, like Lay Down, Blown Away and Delete, helped in no small measure by unsung hero and tour bass player Jonathan Skourletos, don’t just please the crowd, which is in full voice from first note to the raucous end of the night, they elevate them.
Job done then.
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DMA’s play The Drive, Adelaide, on April 11
A version of this review was first published in The Sydney Morning Herald.