REVIEW: Ash Grunwald
- Posted on August 15, 2007 2:57 PM
- 0 comments
Ash Grunwald
Dingwalls
14th August 2007
Review by Katie Spain
Some people spin yarns for a living – I spin words. A mix of tight little bundles and long tangled nets of words… and it’s a rare thing to find myself short of them.
Today however, I find myself in a literary drought. Maybe it’s because the performance I saw last night jolted the musical stuffing out of me. Ash Grunwald unleashed his musical talent on London last night and the lucky few in his midst came out sweat-soaked, smiling and in my case, speechless.
How do you do justice to an awe-inspiring gig with words alone? How do you re-create the feeling of being lifted up and out of the streets of London – carried on a flurry of notes, the twang of fingers against guitar strings and a voice telling stories of home? You can’t. But hell, I’ll give it a try. Please join me on a trip down the not-so-distant memory lane…
Camden is the perfect place for an Ash Grunwald evening – it ain’t no beachside setting, but there is a canal, market stalls, a cobble-stoned alcove and a dread-locked community of music-loving Londoners nearby. The venue is Dingwalls and it’s hidden below the streets of North London – far enough to block out the sight of Starbucks and the sound of the weed pushers on Camden Bridge. The acoustics aren’t half bad either.
The venue is relatively small but the space between the bar at the back and the stage at the front leaves room for a few hundred people. It’s a haven for up and coming bands and the tiered floors provide an intimate environment (and ample viewing platforms for short little Aussies like me).
We’re here to see Ash but arrive early because any support act fit for the artist is worth a gander. A good thing we came early too – they’re worth the effort. The Tarka Groove Experiment is a mixed bunch of seven UK-based Funksters. By the time they swing into their second tune we’ve abandoned our stools and have cleared the aisle for some Roots and Blues fuelled grooving (do people even use that word any more). The mix of guitar, violin, bass, guitar, keyboard, drums and a smooth blend of male and female vocals hits the spot. When frontman James Fender calls for crowd participation, we deliver. He credits it to the Aussie in us but he’s mistaken. When the tunes are great, the crowd joins in – it’s as simple as that. Fender’s voice is a cocktail of John Butler, Tool’s Maynard James Keenan and originality. Desiree Thorpe’s backing vocals are the garnish on top. I’ll have another one of those please.
By the time Ash hits the stage, the crowd has increased but only a few brave souls have ventured to the open expanse at the front of the stage. The minute his fingers start weaving their magic on his guitar, the place starts pulsating. It starts with the bobbing of heads, the tapping of hands against railings and the moving of feet. Before long, a drunken reveller unleashes the Funk within and let’s loose on the ‘dance floor’. Ash acknowledges him like the polite, light-hearted gent he is. The dancing man ups the tempo and the crowd follow suit.
Ash begins with serious. How does he know the Australians in London need this song? We smile, nod, dance and remember a time back at home when things just weren’t taken so… well, serious. “Don’t take life too serious” will ring in my ears next time I board the tube or feel the urge to throw my computer out onto the briefcase-packed London streets.
Grunwald has an aura about him… something Triple J listeners picked up over the air waves during his presenter days. His knowledge of Roots and Blues is extensive, his passion for beats infectious and despite the awards behind him, it’s obvious that this is a man who lives for playing live. Thank the musical gods above he does… our soot-rimmed ears need it.
On stage, Ash cuts a mesmerising figure. He sits alone, head bent over his guitar, dreadlocks framing the concentration on his face. Who needs extravagant lighting, reams of equipment and a backing band when you’ve got raw talent behind you.
The remainder of the gig is a blur. Time stops, the crowd bonds in mass appreciation for the musical transfusion pumping through our veins. Ash gives us his all, he’s having fun and we’re invited along for the ride. Dolphin Song brings a smile to the lips of my New Zealand surf addict ‘Blues buddy’ – there’s nothing like a true shark story, told by the main character. Better still, when he tells it through song. Take The Drop gives feet new life and the rest is a glorious blur. I couldn’t regurgitate the rest of the set order if I tried – I’m too busy feeling the music and trying to keep up with my own set of feet to write in the little black book of set lists.
‘Walking Blues’ is fit for a finale and after one final dance-a-thon we know it’s time for farewells – but not before his dreads sway in genuine thanks to his support and sound guys and a nod of gratitude towards the crowd.
We in fact, owe him. Ash leaves us with memories… the memory of a faultless gig (the highlight of the year) and memories of the sun, surf, sand and land of easy-going attitudes back home. He’ll be back in November – I’m already wishing the months away. A dose of Ash Grunwald a day keeps the homesickness at bay.
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ash grunwald, dingwalls, review
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