The Cat Empire

If not for the knowledge that one was in Brisbane, you could be forgiven for having thought you were in Cuba, Jamaica or any one of the Latin American countries. The night was balmy and warm, and the crowd milled around the bar with a hunger in their eyes that the musically obsessed get when they’ve been infected with “The Rhythm”. The mood was fraught with pent up energy, akin to that which must be felt by a junkie between hits.

Restless and desperate for a taste of the headline act, the crowd was politely receptive to support trio, Tortured Soul – to begin with. But just like a junkie can’t resist the call…, the funky, jazz infused drum and bass riffs began to take hold, slowly dragging the ‘tortured souls’ away from the safety of the lighted bar area, deep into the Tivoli’s bowels.

As the beats began to take hold, the obviously hedonistic crowd surged, coming alive as if using the baseline for a heartbeat. Lead singer John-Christian Urich prompted the hypnotised crowd into a sing-a-long during their single “Fall in Love”. It seemed as if the trio from New York was slightly taken aback by the warmth of the crowd and while everyone enjoyed their up-beat performance, it was obvious that the crowd was there for one band and one band alone. “I don’t think you heard me, I said; Give it up for the Cat Empire!” Urich said as they left the stage. But this was a mere formality really as the cheer was already resounding at the slightest hint of the main act.

Sedated and appeased for a short while, the vibe was relatively calm as the roadies set up the myriad instruments (weapons) that Felix and the boys wield in their musical attack. As the lights dimmed, signalling the impending entrance of the band, the faithful followers began the impatient clap of those who want to be rewarded for their patience.

The band finally began to filter out of the darkness of the old theatre’s wings and take their places at their ‘battle stations’. After a few words of gratitude and appreciation, they began their 2 hour onslaught of musical fusion. Playing a selection of songs from their rapidly burgeoning repertoire, they took the crowd on a world tour through Cuba, Jamaica, Latin America and even India (with the help of their sitar playing friend dubbed the ‘Crimson Warrior’).

From the first haunting note of Harry’s trumpet the crowed was transfixed, b-bopping, jumping, jiving (and singing) along with each beat til every muscle hurt. A particular highlight was the sitar solo by the aforementioned crimson warrior, who like a snake charmer in a bazaar lured the audience into a false sense of calm. Then like an electric shock, Harry’s trumpet burst into life and the spell was broken as feet and bodies began moving of their own accord. Songs lasting for an average of 10 minutes (thanks to Harry’s energetic scatting), ensured the crowd was exhausted but happy enough to head home.

Detractors of the Cat Empire have a valid point only if all you did was listen to their CD releases. Trying to distill the mêlée of ska, funk, reggae, blues and hip-hop into a 14-odd song CD will never do this band justice. While it is true that some of their songs sound fairly similar, it seems to me a case of when you are onto a good thing why change?

I really think that the Cat Empire have continued to mature as a band. I saw them play a few years ago at Byron Blues and Roots and even then they more than impressed the adoring crowd. But since their rise to worldwide fame, their sound has become stronger, more sure. There is an edge to their live show now which wasn’t there before. Maybe it was their recording hiatus in Cuba or the maturation of a political consciousness (Felix implored the punters to become more environmentally aware in terms of climate change). Whatever it was, it has made the Cat Empire a better live band than ever.

They play off each other, off the crowd and from that place deep within that is so obvious in talented musicians - and the envy of the not so musically gifted. The thing that I love about them is that you always without fail wish that you could be on stage with Felix and Jumps to groove with them. Their infectious rhythms never fail to ignite this primal urge to move. Unfortunately, their popularity means that movement is somewhat limited, forcing me to settle for a private dance snatched furtively between stomps on toes, wiping second-hand sweat from my face and the endless bump and grind of fellow music junkies out to get their fix.

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