The Cat Empire Live

By: Phil Roveto

Sunday February 04, 2007

The Cat Empire Bring The Party Live
"Dude, I can not WAIT to see them live! They're so much fun!!" This, I would find out, is TJ. I didn't look up from my trough urination. Don't talk to me while I'm taking a top ten percent piss. Finally, I said to TJ: "Yeah, I hear ya. Never seen 'em before t'night, but from everything I've heard, they're brilliant. Lively as fuck, wild...like some kinda gypsy party." After some shakes and introductions, I asked TJ why he was here at the Independent, seeing the Cat Empire. "They're just a quintessential Australian band." And what does that mean, exactly? "Well, I'll put it this way...here in America, people seem to make music for themselves, for their individual advancement. Over there, it's about your mates. They have fun with each other up there. That, and because Australian communities are generally smaller, they're exposed to more diverse music. There're fewer musical cliques. So, you'll notice they'll play funk, salsa sounds, ska beats, throw in some New Orleans jazz. They make you move. There's so much soul there."

After it was all said and done, this guy pretty much had it right. The Cat Empire put on a crazy, dance-worthy show on this Wednesday that had me kicking and spinning. This band, epic draws in their home Australia, popular as hell in Europe, are relative nobodies in our lovely US. Take a look at their tour schedule. Tickets in San Francisco were available until about 4 days before the show. Lightly pockmarking the country, they travel to SoCal, to Colorado, up to Chicago, across to Boston, then New York, then Germany, then England. The Europe shows are already sold out. Music critics are apparently mental for this group across the Atlantic.

As far as a stage act, they're completely polished without looking mechanical. They're organic as hell, kangaroo jumping, arms waving, sliding from one instrument to the other. From vocals, to supreme beat-boxing, to trumpet, to drums. And when the musical focus is on one, the other five egg him on, clapping, grinning wide, cheering along with the rest of us. They share the good times and the attention quite diplomatically. Interestingly, this goodwill extends all the way to their de facto frontman. Or rather frontmen. Fact is, there are two. When listening to their recorded music, you can distinguish two separate vocal stylings, given equal time. One, a smooth, suave sound, muted in an inexplicable way. The other, a higher-pitched, thicker-accented, quick-rabbit-puncher of tempo, a human beat machine.

Live, these talented gentlemen gave an amazing performance, each taking the lead for alternate stretches. Felix Riebl, smoothing his cap bill about 50 times, cooly searching out and zeroing in on the 85 girls who are immediately ready to give themselves up to him. Harry James Angus, pulling off his zippered hoodie about 4 songs in, showing off the happy gut of a contented trumpeter and verbalist who knows how to pull girls in at least 5 other ways. It was literally impossible to determine who brought more to the table, or who got more face time. Felix sang low and wonderful, looked sleek and fit and played a spare set of drums with impressive skill and mad fire. Harry, in an extended sketch, used echo effects, lowering his voice to a didgeridoo growl, then, quickening the pace without warning, waved the mike in front of his face letting the sound bounce off the crowd over and over, throwing the place into a frenzy.

Unfairly, when put next to those two dynamos, no one is going to look especially breathtaking. Ryan Monro played competently without really moving at all, while turntablist Jamshid "Jumps" Khadiwala was active, throwing great scratches and shouts into the mix. Oliver McGill, while talented, mainly looked like he was trying a take a twelve pound dump during his solos. Competent Will Hull-Brown might have been the second (maybe the third) best drummer on the stage. Together, they served as the required baseline energy needed to make this band a flash-point explosion, with each member enabling fantastic crowd reactions.

"Nights Like These" found everyone chicken-nodding their heads, watching Harry's hand movements and quick staccato cadence. After a cute chime-ringing introduction to "Lullaby," I glimpsed happy couples near the bar (one of the few areas with dance room), swaying and smiling at each other. Everyone joined in for "The Car Song," joyfully screaming "HARRY! Yer gonna be a Lawyer someday!" The encore featured "The Wine Song" and it's speed crescendo polka of "Run, R-run run run, Let's have some fun, f-fun, fun fun, We'll drink! D-drink drink drink, A toast to the Sun, s-sun sun sun." Faster and faster, we jumped and ran along, spilling beer in a massive drinking contest, swirling and clapping in the happy madness. America may be slightly behind the curve on The Cat Empire, but there's no reason why we cannot catch up.


The Cat Empire - The Independent - San Francisco, CA