Van She

In a musical sense, Van She have most certainly been prostituting themselves at the Prince of Wales of late. Having played there two times in less than that many months, the Sydney boys have returned once more for the launch of their debut album, V. With their initial self-titled EP released many moons ago, this record is long overdue. So with baited breath, many a punter headed along to see if it was worth the wait.

Mission Control had been assigned to kick off the affair this evening, and judging by their performance, they embraced this job with full force. As one might anticipate from their name, the electronic sounds we were met with were somewhat reminiscent of a science fiction movie soundtrack. I had not yet heard anything from these four Melbourne boys prior to the show, but they certainly displayed some potential from what was a rather short set. Unfortunately, the numbers present to witness Mission Control were somewhat dismal, as much of the Van She crowd only began to trickle in toward the early set’s conclusion.

Fellow Sydney-siders Lost Valentinos were next to take to the stage, with their take on the psych-indie sound. Adorned in their typical painted on eye masks and spray on pants, the boys brought to mind Robin Hood and his merry men. In stark contrast to the dreadfully dull crowd at the Prince, frontman Nik Yiannikas jumped about the stage with an infectious energy, however the onlookers must have been immune to this form of dancing, with their feet remaining firmly on the floor throughout the set. To my horror, a guy standing next to me asked me if that was Van She onstage - it seems some may have just come along for the heck of it and didn’t care too much for who was playing. In despite of all this, ‘the band that was not Van She’ gave a strong live performance this evening. Having seen this quartet on numerous occasions, I can justifiably say that this was no one-off. They have a certain presence about themselves onstage and I think the Lost Valentinos have much more up their sleeves.

The final few fans arrived just before Van She took to the stage, though somewhat delayed due to almost a good half hour of sound check. With the exception of Matt Van Schie, the boys emerged with nicely manicured, matching moustaches. Lead vocalist Nick Routledge was also sporting a sweet pair of kicks and what appeared to be a graze next to his right eye that one could only imagine to be the result of some kind of boyish fisticuff. With his curly mop and sweatband around his head, Tomek Archer looked more like an eighties tennis player than a drummer from a synth rock band. Behind the keys, Michael Di Francesco looked more the part in the inevitable tight jeans and leather jacket. As for Matt, imagine 90210’s Luke Perry after being attacked with a bottle of peroxide and there you have it.

If you’ve ever seen Van She live before, you would know they are a band of few words, not big on the whole banter thing. Tonight was no exception, with Routledge only using the brief moments between songs to inform us what was next on the set list at his feet. Memory Man was first up on the chopping board for the crowd to digest and it appeared to go down quite nicely - most probably due to that element of predictability that is characteristic of their music. Rather than diverging their musical style over the years, they have stuck to this safe kind of familiarity and what they know will work for them. I was left with that feeling that I’d heard this song before. Whether that is a good or bad thing is disputable, but regardless, their new material just didn’t seem so ‘new’.

The boys seemed to find their forte third song into the set when they launched into new track Cat and the Eye. The loud bass and drums were met by a receptive audience, although the same could not be said for bassist Van Schie who seemed vastly uninterested with a pout that could easily rival Keira Knightley. Picking up the pace, Changes was next on the set list, which - due to much radio play of late - had the crowd singing along accordingly. An epileptic light show was juxtaposed with psychedelic visuals behind the stage. Perhaps the lads took a fancy to the Phoenix sound whilst playing support, as this track is undeniably reminiscent of their form of French pop rock. Routledge embraced the tempo increase, jumping about the stage in his ticks and making full use of the speakers and anything else he could climb on.

After road-testing Talking and Virgin Suicide and a few problems with the speaker, it was time for old favourite Sex City. I must say this song sounds far better live than the recorded version. David Bowie-wannabe on bass seemed to have warmed to the crowd by this stage, allowing a smile to sneak onto his model-like mug. He even got the audience clapping their hands in the air by the end of the song, before taking over vocals for It Could Be The Same and A Sharp Knife. As well as guitarist and bassist interchanging vocals throughout the set, Di Francesco traded in synths for the old strings from time to time. But it was Archer on drums who was the one to watch. With his quick-paced drumming being the foundation for their synthesized sounds, he impressively maintained the band’s momentum throughout, and interestingly incorporated a marching-like beat within some of the tracks.

A man of few words, Routledge coyly concludes with “thankyou, this is our last song, it’s called Kelly". Unsurprisingly, the familiar favourite was last on their list of pop sensible songs and some fans took this opportunity to jump onstage to accompany them. It was one of the weaker songs of the night. Years of overplay seem to have left this one a bit too polished for it to remain a solid live track. With yet another abrupt end, they departed the stage, only to remerge shortly afterwards sporting matching ‘V’ sweathog jackets as well as some additional help in the form of the Lost Valentinos (minus the make-up). To mix it up a bit, Di Francesco hopped on an extra keyboard, forfeiting the drumbeats for loops whilst Van Schie belted out some funky bass lines.

This will have been the third time for me to see Van She live in the space of twelve months. In contrast to their show at the Splendour in the Grass festival last month, where Van Schie fired a fire extinguisher into the crowd much to the security’s disapproval, this evening was a rather lack-lustrous affair. And with the new material sounding all too much like the previous, I was left wondering if it really was worth all that wait. I wouldn’t hold my breath for what is to come.

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