Tim Freedman

Tim Freedman tonight addressed a concern that we all must take seriously; why, as a paying punter, would you attend a gig (one of class, perhaps a modicum of earnestness?) and spray your loudmouthed bilge all over everyone else’s good time? Tonight, Tim told two gabbing patrons to “shut the fuck up” when their initial recommendation of taking their squawking to the front bar failed. This gig was 30-odd dollars; did you pay that to be an interrupting cretin? I got in for free and I managed to keep my composure while Tim delivered his oratory knack unto his audience. That was us, remember, all the people sssshooshing you?

Anyway, aside from dropkicks that can’t follow simple instructions a five-year-old could manage, Tim Freedman’s solo effort sans Whitlams made for a lovely evening. Though we weren’t treated to the photo montage I heard other states got, Tim’s prose and back stories kept the venue enraptured. Keeping with tradition, Tim played such notable Whitlams favourites as Melbourne, Blow Up The Pokies and, of course, of course, No Aphrodisiac. The mood was flitting; verging on the sombre at times, it was mostly an ode to loves come and gone, as well as the odd mention of death to keep you in the mood (like I needed that after watching the last season of Six Feet Under).

My only gripe in all my love for Tim & Co. is that some of the more jovial tracks such as Thank You (For Loving Me At My Worst) and Royal in the Afternoon perhaps did not fit in with the style of the evening. Without his band mates to add to the overall feel and bounce of the song, they become thin and morose, as opposed to some of happier tracks in the Whitlams discography.

Tim Freedman seems to have a world of grief in his bones; when he sings, especially considering his lonely stance on stage (and a penchant for wine, which he ever so kindly donated to the dedicated audience), he appears as fragile and wounded as the rest of us. Of course, we forget musicians are human too. His ability to pen such articulate, emotive balldry is the reason he is one of Australia's favourite songwriters...no matter what the bogans at the bar think.

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