Matt Walters

Candlelight dances off the Wesley Anne’s sleek mahogany tables. I’m placed in the dimly lit band room, resting my tired bones after a long, treacherous day. It is near impossible to fault the place; the Wesley Anne is picturesque in its folky charm. Like the living room of some well-to-do playboy who is just enough in touch with his modernity. Tonight, singer/songwriter Matt Walters is embarking on yet another Wednesday night residency gig at the WA, with Nyssa Bradsworth supporting. Pretty soon the misty room is filled with Nyssa’s ethereal voice, like a bath very slowly filling with hot water. An odd euphemism, sure, but you’re so looking forward to that bath when you see the steam rise from the porcelain, and feel the heat on your face, aren’t you? Considering the icy climate outside the Wesley Anne doors, Nyssa’s songs are like a massive warm bath I had been waiting all day for. The songstress easily measures up to top Aussie singer/songwriters like Clare Bowditch or Sarah Blasko. Strings reverberate off the dark walls; with a little smoke and a sharp martini, this would be positively cinematic. Girls with guitars who sing their poetry are pretty well a dime a dozen these days, but Nyssa is...different. I feel an immediate identification with her and her lyrics, like I’m tiny and riding the strings of her guitar while she plays. “I build each one of my songs out of glass, so you can see me inside of them, I suppose” she sings; a little Dallas Frasca, a little Jewel, a lot marvellous.

Matt Walters. As with Nyssa’s defiance of guitar-poet clichés, so, too, does Matt do away with stereotype. You see a guy with a guitar these days and think, oh god, another Pete Murray, kill me now, but if you stay a spell and hear his soft, emotive tones and multi-instrumental magic, well, you just might be amazed. He hops from acoustic guitar, to a very sexy red electric Gibson, to an eerily beautiful keyboard, all the while bundling us up warmly in his songs. He opens with newer track Echo On, from his much-anticipated forthcoming disc and proceeds to float through tracks from his previous album The Moon, The Stars and The People including the raw and highly radiant World Won’t Wait.

To give you an indication of Walters’ worth in my world, allow me to divulge a story. After stumbling upon Mr Walters on MySpace, I made it a particularly common and enjoyable mission to head to JB and purchase his album. Now, I am not wealthy; I’ve never spent more than 20 dollars on an item of clothing that wasn’t a band t-shirt, ever, and I have a number of costly addictions that manage to drain my bank account weekly (it’s not what you think; those addictions are Coca Cola, CDs, Records, Books, tea and fried chicken). So, upon reaching my local JB haunt, I noticed the price sticker of $29.95. Slightly taken aback, considering that, from the state of the music industry re downloading and such, CDs were very rarely priced higher than $25, but, but, here is the crux of my tale, friend; I picked the CD up with nought hesitation and strolled forthrightly to the register. In my universe, anyone that can make me that damn concrete about a CD is a sure as sugar thing. I can’t make you love him; what I can do, with my platform, is tell you to head down to whatever venue Mr Walters graces with his musical presence again, and catch his set, I promise, you won’t regret it. Have I ever lied to you?

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