Fly By Night, Fremantle, Australia, 26th January 2007.

Australia Day: 41 degrees in Forrestfield with a dry easterly breeze creeping in from the wasted bush. Being a national day of sloth-like sozzled indulgence and the Hottest 100 which having just announced that Australia's favorite song of 2006 is Augie March's One Crowded Hour; at last, a hottest 100 winner I can fully get behind, friends and I are happily frittering, bare feet thrust into a paddling pool - intermittent additions of icy esky water providing sensual relief. Strange forms of bonding and tetherball pervade as we clamber onto the roof and break out the fire hose.

Now it's dark, but still incoherently hot. Neko Case offers to play something cool for us. It has the crowd's support but I rebut; it's hot - so play it hot. I want to hear fingers slide from guitars in a shimmering wet haze. I want to hear that Cowgirl in the Sand sound. I want to hear sighs. I want to see sweat drip like lonely raindrops. Three blue lamps hang above the stage; no doubt there to augment the campaign for cool. Ironically for the band they're just pouring on thick waves of fever. Brows are mopped repetitively. Ms Case announces that she feels like she's wearing a dress made of Kraft cheese-slice wrappers. Hold on, Hold on could almost be anthem for perseverance in the face of dessert winds.

I'm not so sure what makes Neko Case alt country. I'm not sure what characteristics make up alt country. In fact I'm not sure what makes up alternative. There doesn't appear to be anything desperately radical here. No envelope pushing. She does have a unique voice. It could fill anything. There are an extra five musicians with her who are kept employed throughout the bulk of the performance, whether or not their contribution is required. Many moments would be better served without a full band sound, something a little more intimate. The banjo and slide guitar are turned way too up, trampling the lolling hazy tones of the ensemble instead of complimenting them. This isn't corrected until two thirds of the way through after suggestions from Neko. Nonetheless she receives superb empathic close harmony support. If her backing singer was stood in the wings I'd barely guess she was there at all. Regardless, Neko's cavernous voice overcomes all else. It's infinite. Like Spinal Tap it's got that one louder quality which carries it rolling out through dessert. Deep as the Deep Red Bells she sings of. Halfway through this song it occurs to me that I've no idea what this means. A notion falls: eardrums. Its like Emmylou Harris' Deeper Well; a hymn to the quest for higher inspiration, but I could be getting lost here. Maybe Sparrow judders to halt as Ms Case's singing continues to flow from the monitors long after she's ceased. See, like I said: infinite. She jokes about lip synching as they take another crack at the ending.

But ultimately a One Crowded Hour moment never comes. Maybe it was missing the start; a couple of songs maybe more, but of equal importance is that tense buildup prior to a note being played; anticipation. I hate waiting but maybe that's what was absent. There's still no bolt from the blue. No transcendental light to lead to my rack and ruin.

Maybe it's the heat.

Transcribed by Christopher Henry

PS: Stuey thought that Neko Case must be some pretentious wannabe Japanese as Neko is similar to the Japanese for cat. Obviously Cat Power has been taken and Cat Case is just ridiculous. I vote for Cat Basket. She's not as striking as the images of her publicity shots, she looks mainly pale and Canadian. Still she's a damn sight more attractive than her average WA fan; mongloids the lot of them.

PPS: Since I brought up the subject of epic Neil Young songs (Cowgirl in the Sand), Everyone Knows This Is Nowhere could be the definitive anthem for Forrestfield.

PPPS: In tandem with the comment concerning the three blue lamps, it should be also noted that the Fly By Night also features two risible moons with faces either side of the stage. It's like when you're at school and you draw a picture of landscape which looks all good and pretty but you mess it up by putting a smiley face on the sun. This is when you're nine. Senseless amateurs.