The Art of Escapism

Friday nights hold a special place in capitalistic society. They spell the end of the traditional workweek and give the general populace the heady promise of having a solid two days away from the corporate overloads who only see their workers as serfs to be exploited.

But I digress, this isn’t a political manifesto, rather Fridays are a promise, they are untapped potential, they are a blank slate that can be filled with a myriad of activities where the repercussions and consequences of our actions seem so far away, be they a hungover from drinking too much (or just enough to forget), poor life choices from going home with the wrong person or the ignoring of that afterhours work email that you just know is going to ruin Monday.

The problem with potential is that it needs to be seized (much like the means of production) otherwise its just going to be wasted. The potential of a Friday night, whilst a renewable resource, can’t be banked or saved, once its gone and the cold harsh light hits the pretentious sourdough loaves being sold at the local farmers’ market on a Saturday morning any unused potential is forever lost.

It was refreshing to escape a night of doomscrolling, televised sports and general life wasting, via attending the ethereal concert performed by Phoebe Go and supported by Vincent. The setting was fitting, being held in the sold out Skukum Lounge at Junk Bar. The venue holds a cosy old fashioned feel with the building originally being constructed in 1889 and is now clearly heritage listed.

As an aside, you can tell it is heritage listed because there are clear limitations in how the place has been renovated, from the illogically place brick column that does absolutely nothing in terms of structural support (the real support is discretely placed behind the column and consists of a modern steel column) but which since it was original obviously must be kept. It doesn’t matter that the column isn’t needed and is positioned to block the view of the stage for about 40% of the room. It doesn’t even really add character to the room, the building already has that in spades. But such is the bullshit of our elected governments and the bureaucracies that exist just to tell people no.

Aside from the column, the Skukum Lounge is a great venue for artists with a maximum capacity of 100 people standing, and an what can only be described as an eclectic taste in decorations and seating options, from the galloping horse painting at the back of the stage, through to the disco ball (that doesn’t spin), to the, frankly, stage, collection of seats which appear to have been collected by university students during a free council pick up. The range of chairs, whilst undoubtedly adding character to the venue and evoking that sense of bohemian where you know in reality a large amount of money has actually been invested, are nearly universally uncomfortable and are the ultimate expression of form over function (much like that stupid column).

In any event the venue invokes that feeling of entering a prohibition era basement located speakeasy and in many ways is perfect for generating the whimsy and kick starting the transportation of the patrons into a wholly different world.

The escapism would not be complete without a soundtrack, the doppelgangers of Phoebe Go and Vincent provided this in spades.

The night started with Vincent, who started with the statement that she was not, in fact, Phoebe Go and that set the scene for a magical 40 minute set where Vincent played a collection of original songs and covers which instantly enraptured the crowd and perfectly set the stage for her return to the stage for the second act, under the name of Phoebe Go.

Vincent is tall and willowy which with her carefree and charismatic small talk to the crowd easily relocates the listener to a wild woodland dreamscape straight out of Greek mythology and asking the important philosophical questions like what is time? and expressing her eternal regret at leaving a piece of her haloumi burger that morning uneaten.

In a way, Vincent encapsulates the potential of a Friday night. Her set could have gone in any number of directions and if she was playing football would have broken ankles of the opposition as she deftly changed direction. There is an important distinction between a person who is singing a song on a stage and the authenticity of a musician performing that same song. Vincent is well and truly in the later group, where she invests herself into the songs being sung and not being afraid to get things right like when she stopped mid song, apologised and then changed the key in which she was playing.

Vincent is also lyrically gifted, with her original music, whilst being primarily focused on grief and the feelings that that evokes, also weaves objectively funny themes into her songs.

An interesting example of this and an apt window into her performance style is her breakout single Vincent Vol. 1 and the reasoning behind her stage name. The song deals with the grief of her best friend moving to Canada and buying a van. The Van is called Vincent, since the van is operational and therefore the van goes, leading to the pun van Gogh and hence in true Australian fashion; Vincent. The fact that she has then chosen the stage name Vincent is a glimpse of true authenticity and the emotional connection that forms the foundations of her songs.

The main act of Vincent in a wig, that being Phoebe Go, was similarly stunning. The comparisons between Vincent and Phoebe Go don’t stop at appearance. Phoebe shares the same carefree charismatic performing style with easy crowd engagement. Some differences are apparent, Phoebe Go for instance, has greater experience to the extent that she can both talk and tune a guitar at the same time (the mark of a true experienced professional, which Vincent will get to in time).

Phoebe, even when blatantly ignoring her set list, effortlessly entranced the audience with a mixture of new and old songs and an acoustic cover of Wheatus’ Teenage Dirtbag that captured the emotions of that classic song about infatuation and being seen and amplified them to a thousand.

The ability to take crowd requests and performing those songs on the fly made the concert feel like a Sunday afternoon pub session with desperately trying to ignore the bullshit that comes with Monday morning. Between the songs, Phoebe dropped little anecdotes that humanised her and gave us rare insights into the life of a musician, from the pleasure of playing with her own guitars (as opposed to borrowed guitars the night before when the airline misplaced her bags) and how minor differences in guitar construction such as body width and neck length can have a material impact on the shape and feel of the music being played or how the atmosphere of a concert can vary based on whether it is indoors in a basement or outside in the elements.

It is telling that this tour was a new experience for Phoebe with her normally performing in front of a band. I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing Phoebe in that context yet, however it is easy to imagine how the presence of supporting band members would vary the feel of the performance. In any event, the absence of a band allowed Phoebe to fully showcase her vocal mastery and clear talent in playing both the electric and acoustic guitars.

Phoebe’s final song, 7 Up, was a fitting end to a night of escapism with the grief of having to return to reality and face the truth of whether the potential of your Friday night was fully being tapped.

In this case, I am certain that attending the Phoebe Go concert was absolutely the best way to capitalised on the potential of my Friday night.