Steve Kilbey and Martin Kennedy

It was a David Lynch dreamy night at the Toff in Town on Thursday night. The venue’s theatrical blue and eerie red lights were rolled out for the launch of Unseen Music Unheard Works, the collaborative new project by The Church’s Steve Kilbey and All India Radio’s Martin Kennedy.

A lucky few got seated at jazz club-esque candlelit tables near the curtained stage. They must have been very early to nab a seat because by the time support act The Coralinas took to the stage (at the low-key start time of 8.30pm), the venue was elbow to elbow. It’s somewhat hard to appear glamorous, or appropriately toff-ish, when you make an effort to scrounge some coin together only to get the most inexpensive drink splashed on your shirt and shoes. And it wasn’t even old-world wine. Spills aside, all the standing was worth it.

While they could hardly be described as a noise band, or psychedelic for that matter, The Coralinas – Cam Butler (Silver Ray) and Mark Dawson (of Ed Kuepper fame) – have been known to pull out mallets among other miscellanea to make a racket. Their lack of clear musical definition is only a small part of their appeal. Surreal, hypnotic and Roger Waters dark, this is music for sleepwalking with all the gradations and shades of a lucid dream. The pair explore muted sounds with soft intuitive drumming and guitar played with all manner of implements including paintbrushes. By the end, I was hoping for them to bring out at a hacksaw, but there simply wasn’t enough time. Their songs may be long, but the quiet intensity and synergy between the duo is just enough to keep our attention sustained.

They’re filming the set tonight, so Kilbey instructs the crowd to inject a little more enthusiasm into their applause. The pair are dressed in tuxedos, and with a psychedelic reel in the backdrop, the evening’s Lynchian atmosphere deepens. When Kilbey begins a chain of finger clicking, I start looking around for Dale Cooper to emerge looking for the giant.

Kilbey is a man who needs no introduction, but according to his website, the visual artist, poet and singer-songwriter was “born a genius in 1954 and after many trials and tribulations … founded the best rock band in this universe called The Church”. By contrast, All India Radio’s Martin Kennedy seems to play the straight, or at least silent man to Kilbey’s acerbic, self-deprecating persona. Kilbey’s commentary has the audience genuinely chuckling: the man sure knows his crowds and his theatre.

The haunting sounds of pedal steel courtesy of The Triffids’ “Evil” Graham Lee, along with some skillfully restrained percussion, add to the ambient gloom tonight. Meanwhile, Kilbey’s croon is still exquisite – even if his voice sounds a little strained at the start of the set. In addition to the savage wit, intelligence and ingenuity of his songwriting, we get a rock’n’roll scissor kick to the air if you don’t mind.

After a solid and skillful set of songs from Unseen Music Unheard Works and Kilbey’s own back catalogue, our hosts arrive back on stage to a thunderous, foot-stomping call for an encore. And while Kilbey accuses the crowd of the outrageous crime of “faking an encore”, the applause is bona fide.

When Kilbey strums the opening bars of the next song on acoustic guitar, a guilty, adolescent pleasure rushes over me. I don’t want to be so predictable, but I so wanted to hear The Church’s ‘Under The Milky Way’ above all others. So does the rest of the room apparently, who fall into an awed hush as the wistful ballad is delivered with an intonation that changes with each verse. It gives me the kind of head rush akin to my first taste of nicotine.

They finish up with ‘Providence’ – another Kilbey classic – but I’m still reeling so much so that I barely notice the thunder of applause I’m taking part in.

by Ruth McIver