It's fair to say Sydney's premier indie venue, the Hopetoun, was filled tonight with people from one of two camps: those fanatical fans of the Bats and those who, perhaps not entirely acquainted with The Bats' music, were attracted by two words attached to the New Zealand band: Flying Nun.
Formed in 1981, Flying Nun Records championed the "Dunedin sound" and is home to some of New Zealand's finest acts: bands like The Clean, Bailter Space, The Chills, Straitjacket Fits and many more, including of course, The Bats, here in Australia for the first time in six years to support their new album, The Guilty Office.
Opening acts Songs and Crayon Fields couldn't have been more perfect an accompaniment. I arrived just as the last chords of Songs' set were ringing out (thankfully I've seen them before, and they are great) and Crayon Fields were taking to the stage in some of the most adorably ugly jumpers I've ever seen. With their introspective twee pop and shy, nervous demeanours, Crayon Fields give off the impression it wouldn't make a difference to them if there were one person in the room or 500. The foursome seemed truly lost in their own world of rolling green hills and falling autumn leaves; the faint natter of picnicking revellers blowing in from yonder fields. I for one thank them for allowing us to peep in on their quaint existence but feel certain we mustn't disturb them; letting them play and watching in quiet anticipation.
After a short wait The Bats began their one-and-a-half-hour long set, and by this time the Hopetoun was packed to a cosy get-to-know-your-neighbour brim. It might sound uncomfortable, but it actually provided the perfect setting to be witnessing the gorgeous, perfectly executed delirious pop emanating off stage.
Like many of their fellow Flying Nun label-mates, The Bats are purveyors of bright melodies performed in an understated fashion. Singer Robert Scott possess a voice drenched in the warm familiarity of an old friend, and while the Crayon Fields ask us to keep a respectable distance, The Bats want you to kick off your boots, pour a drink and listen to their dreamy tales of the sorrowful things in life that, once reflected upon, actually make you pretty happy.
An adoring crowd lapped up every moment of the warm interaction between band members, whose homely three-part harmonies still echo in this reviewer's ears the morning after. Yes, The Bats truly are the mature pinnacle of indie-pop, the forever young-at-heart forefathers of bands such as Songs and Crayon Fields, and it was a pure delight to be able to see them in such an intimate setting on a cold winter's night in Dunedin... uh, Sydney, I mean.
Aimee-Lee Curran
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