Jordie Lane

Growing up I thought country music was a form of torture. Something rednecks in the American deep south listened to because they didn’t know any better and lacked the talent to make any better. This hatred and confusion was only seeded deeper throughout my teen years when arseholes like Leanne Rimes and the Dixie Chicks had the nerve to share the charts with really, really rad bands like Pearl Jam. Yeah, you know what happens now… I listen to the likes of Billy Bragg. Thought the duelling banjos on Deliverance was like the coolest thing ever. Started to learn harmonica, yeah you get it, I love country music.

For some strange reason I had not heard of Jordie Lane, despite the fact his name was being smeared across Melbourne like the swine flu (I had to, sorry). It was not until I had the surprising pleasure of volunteering at this year's Boogie Festival, attended by only 300 aging almost-musicians and their unruly children, that I saw Mr Lane play to a backdrop of warmth and dirt. I totally fell in love and so did every other well-wisher there.

So, needless to say, the chance to catch a glimpse once again at the Northcote Social Club was so deliciously delicious. It is the launch of Sleeping Patterns, which is, amazingly enough, Lane's debut album, recorded in around a week. It was long-awaited to say the least, as the sold-out shows around the country attest to.

Dimly lit smiles and lazy yet purposeful sways and taps were all the crowd consisted of as we were loved by Jeremy Edwards in a flurry of strings. My head swamped with memories of the 90s as the beautifully deep and soulful voice of Liz Stringer (who makes welcomed appearance on Sleeping Patterns) laid across the room. As for Lane, it was as to be expected.

His grainy voice delivered every lyric with conviction. Eased skilful speed on his blues harmonica made me want make love in hay bails to the boy next to me that smelt of beer and stale rollies. And the banjo… what is it about a banjo that makes every little shit-filled corner of this globe A-OK? Don’t answer that, just learn the banjo and move to the foot of my bed.

Stunning music, friendly banter, audience/act interaction, it was a perfect Sunday afternoon. A lovely venue. A grateful and positive crowd, and the reason I love country music. Thank you Jordie Lane. From your scuffed shoes to your blistered fingers, thank you.

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