2nd August, 2006. Metro City, Perth, Australia.

Cats. I like cats. I've owned a couple in my lifetime, marvelled at their frolicsome ways, their charming spontenaity, lounged out on the sofa after yet another hard, futile day with nothing to cling to but for a warm, purring ball. And having co-existed with cats I know their nature pretty well, well enough to be able to state without any fear of ensuing controversey, that DJ Shadow is one attention loving pussy. He stands there, arms folded, not saying a word, lapping up the praise with a barely supressed grin, like receiving the mob equivalent of getting a playful back stroke. He did this at Splendour in the Grass and no doubt every place he goes. How many acts do you know get you to cheer for every record in their back catalogue, before they've even played a note. Nonetheless we do cheer, like the rabid, braindead bunnies we are.

He takes sometime with the introduction, sussing us out, absorbing us all. I almost feels like a gospel church environment with James Brown at the altar,as the calls, responses and frequent hollers of hearty agreement. Its kinda like playing in the Thunderdome he notes, probably a reference to the close to vertically stacked balconies that rise up, maximum gladitorial style. Apparently Moby made just the same analogy last time he was down here. Not that I'm remotely a fan of this venue. Anywhere that has the unmitigated bad taste to throw Leon Lima out twice deserves a damn good thrashing. The deathly piano chhhhhoooonnnnngggs of Building Steam with a Grain of Salt, the exquisite balance of heavy and floating, unfurl and the spell begins. Give this crowd some credit; they even sing along to the "What you going to play noooooooooooooooow", snippets from Monosylabic that get happily scratched in with sublime dexterity.

Like some kind of a man who might've given advance consideration to the needs and desires of his thirsty disciples, we get a golden swell of Shadow-y nectar; the new material only creeping in after all-over satisfaction has been accomplished, with much Endtroducting... material to warm our expectant cockles. It's a less busy performance than that of his live DVD, splendour too, less frantic, less scratching. This must be Shadow in chill mode. But that's ok. Perth does that to people. He's a loquacious gent, too loquacious according to some Melbourne reportage I heard where he was up for talking the hind legs off a kangaroo (*), as he informs us of his time checking out the Swan river. Maybe its some kind mutual West Coast appreciation thing going on here. I checked out San Fransisco and had an awesome time. Nevertheless, back to reality as the new choons starts to drop. A whalloping big contender for the strongest of the new batch is a dynamo instrumental with gun fire for snare drums. It's accompanied by video showing radiation orange showroom dummy heads being blasted like shooting ducks. I hypothesise that it would be even greater if Shadow actually took to firing a gun into the audience, preferably loaded with blanks, or better yet, little sticks with a suction cup that would stick to the victim's forehead and unveil a flag declaring: "You've been Shadowed!"

Another strong newbie is laid upon us before JD asks our permission introduce his English friend Chris James. My aprehensions towards this blunder-chump are well known, and tonight he embodies all of them. Maybe he can cut it in the studio, but out here he looks awkward, strutting around and warbling, like an inadvisible David Gahan. The ooohs might've sounded dope on plastic but onstage it seems he hasn't worked out what he's here for. The second song fairs a little better but its still a relief to see Lateef who's infectios energy whips the crowd to its most tumultous condition. Commanding renditions of some more new material, a tantalising slice of Lady don't Tek No and more whacky tales of Mashin' on the Motorway all achieve maximum rump shakage, the only moment of wobble manifesting in the mixed response that greets him when demanding that we give it up like "the West Coast Eagles just won the Premiership". I've seen other international bands make this mistake before. One third of this room is going to be Eagles, another third Dockers supporters, who naturally hate the Eagles, and another third, who don't care about football and hate Dockers and Eagles in equal amounts. Regardless, its a much needed kick in the butt, and it all comes to juddering release when having led us in requesting that Shadow might"break it down", he does so. With The Number Song; its amorphous bassline playing havoc with the very fabric of civilised society as we know it. There should be a law against this sort of thing. Just to rub it in JD takes out his organ, Organ Donor that is, torments us with repeatedly with the intro, lays it on us, four and half minutes of full bodied funk precision, and leaves.

Hot cries of "Shadow, Shadow" circulate in a fever as waves of stamping feet break out across the auditorium. It seems to me, despite not knowing the guy personally, that JD is quite the sincere fellow, so when he returns to tell us that was a great response, I believe it entirely. So much for my misplaced fears of the goldfish bowl half-activity you'd expect at a crappy venue like this. As a reward we get plunged into the turbulent finish, Celestial Annihilation in all its charged beauty ceding to a turbo rock Nursery Rhyme. I have strong expectations for this encore, UNKLE heavy as it turns out, with the dawn of Rabbit in Your headlights. I always had trouble watching the video to this, and here it is, trapped once more in this automotive catacomb as a homeless man is repeatedly run over. My discomfort emanates from the fact that a mere couple of months before its release I ran over and killed a man myself. I can assure you, its pretty accurate. The turning motion of the body is entirely authentic, even if the would-be crumple looks stiff. And then the most agonizing tease, the introduction to You Can't Go Home Again, I've had this running through my mind incessantly these past fews days in burning anticipation of what is to transpire here tonight. What is it that makes that sound, so extra-terrestrial, some sort of trembling space banjo. Then no more. The intro is all we get. I console myself with , played almost at midnight ironically enough. Ahh, I'm sure he does this all the time. A swathe of gloopy orange undulates across the screens. It's an unexpected lazybeat ending (no High Noon?) even if it is one of his better known creations, to send everyone home with a weary, satisfied glimmer. Much respec'.

Transcripted by ReverendChris

A note on the supporting act:
Car Crash by name... bandicoots of that ill-fated trip hop genre Shadow in equal measures spawned and detested, by nature. Nonetheless, in the Dave Lima school of Bigging Up those who shall proceed you, they give massive props out to Shadow, informing how they have experienced a Shadow soundcheck and it was "off the hook". Damn, now I want to hear a Shadow soundcheck too. Still its a bitter pill to swallow given that Melbourne and Sydney got Mos Def as support.

This review can not be completed without major props going out to the resolute support of Ersko, a fine testement to all one man can be underneath a baseball cap - who saw Shadow here as a comparitive nobody, all the way back in '95, Goddamnit, as part of the Mo' Wax Headz tour. Incidentally was suprised to see a derth of baseball caps out on the floor - where all the real headz at? Must've been the reason Shadow high fived the front row at Splendour but not here, you gotta earnt it baby. No matter, having returned to chez Ersko for a nightcap, some In tune and on time (Shadow's live DVD) action, and ambling discussion. Ersko raises the point that although other chumps / chumpettes have used similar sounding drums and beats, at that time in history, whilst time has turned their sonic wine to vinegar, Midnight in a Perfect World and in turn the terrain breaking album that birthed it Endtroducing... remain as alluringly vital today.

Timeless.

(*): a note for our American chums. Kangaroos do not roam the streets of Australia, as I've heard you've been asking some of my homies. Also we do have streets. Australia is not all dessert. Occassionally, about once a year in fact, we have winter, and it gets a bit parky, so please bring some warm clothes if visiting us between June and August. Although we both have a shithead for a premier, so I guess we're even on that one.