I first came across The Gin Club many years ago in a small town pub. I happened to see them play purely by chance, and by the end of set I was impressed, stirred and incredibly inspired. This proved a serendipitous discovery and since then I have been a loyal fan. Over the last 10 years, The Gin Club have continued to arouse and astound audiences, and remain one of Australia’s more unique bands. This particular tour marks their 10th anniversary, as well as the return of Ola Karlsson from his homeland, Sweden.
Despite playing in Melbourne on the same night as White Night, a number of faithful fans filled the small room at the Yarra Hotel. While space was scarce, there was even less space on stage as the 7 members of the Gin Club and all their instruments were crammed in like a human game of Tetris.
Adrian Stoyles starts the show with "Brother", evoking a stormy mood accentuated by the haunting cello of Bridget Lewis. The emotion within the room renders most silent until "Already Gone" changes the ambiance abruptly to an upbeat, toe tapping tempo. It’s at this point that Karlsson steps towards the microphone smiling bashfully from behind his black rimmed glasses. I not sure if it’s the really sweet songs he pens, or his timid demeanour that makes him so endearing, but he’s often noted as a favourite amongst fans. I know he’s certainly mine. It’s been a long time since I've heard him sing, but it’s certainly worth the wait. The Swede sings "Too Many Miles" and "Julia" so completely that it feels like he never left.
In contrast, Ben Salter maintains a rock n roll posture through his roaring solos and poetic lyrics. During "Eternity" he sings so hard, he looks like he might hurt himself. While Salter's in pain, the most beardy and dishevelled looking of the group, Conor Macdonald is singing in the background. Despite his appearance, when he takes centre stage he sings with his eyes shut tight as if he blocking out the world, with such intensity that I almost believe that his heart is breaking before me. Throughout, Lewis and her cello hums cunningly beneath, occasionally rising to the surface so ardently its cuts through the air.
Salter is the unofficial MC of the evening and he was obviously in a talking mood. He’s witty (toilet humour's witty, right?) and in high spirits. I don’t think it would be a Gin Club gig with out a fair amount of piss taking, and Salter delivers. Amongst the banter, each member of band brings their idiosyncrasies to the table creating that Je ne sais quoi, that The Gin Club are renowned for. Not only can a typical Gin Club member switch from guitar to drums at the drop of a hat, but songs are ubiquitous amongst these talented bastards. Each member contributes songs and yet the different styles mesh together seamlessly. This is evident when they all sing through the choruses of "Abigail", where the group’s compatibility and unity is unquestionable. The inevitable encore, "Wylde Bitch", is met with rowdy singing that arises around me, a tell tale sign that this is a crowd favourite.
I have often heard gin referred to as ‘Crying Juice’ due to its ability to elicit your deepest feelings. Like the drink its self, The Gin Club are masters at commanding the emotion within a room, ascending from highs to a lows within minutes. But that’s them, not only are they exceptional musicians, but they can move from wretched despair, longing and self reflection, to dance along party songs. Once again, The Gin Club don't disappoint. Well played lads, well played.
