Review: TUCK SHOP LADIES WITH LITTLE WISE AND SPECIAL GUEST SUSIE KEYNES – THE TRINITY SESSIONS at Church Of The Trinity

Reviewed by Ray Smith, Friday 17th June 2022

In 2002 the first Trinity Sessions show was held, and tonight's show, with The Tuckshop Ladies, Little Wise, and special guest, Susie Keynes, was a celebration of the auspicious event that launched one of Adelaide's most beloved venues. It's an intimate, yet open performance space, with zero glitz and a superbly welcoming atmosphere, that offers world-class original music month after month to eager and loyal patrons.

That first show featured the music of Fruit, a band that originally formed in 1995 in Adelaide, and went on to make nine albums and gather a host of awards and nominations along the way during their regular worldwide tours over ten years. Two members of that band were playing tonight.

My companion and I managed to snaffle comfortable front row seats alongside some dear friends, and, as the audience filed in and filled the seats around us, there was a distinct feeling of celebration and anticipation in the air.

Sophie Klein, aka Little Wise, took to the stage, armed with two electric guitars, one of which was a baritone, an acoustic guitar, and a hatstand. I had heard a great deal about this singer/songwriter, but, even though we had played at the same festivals, I somehow never managed to hear her live.

A whisper from Rosie Burgess, earlier, had urged me to concentrate on the lyrics, and I tried to do exactly that but, when Little Wise started to play, I was taken by the superb tone she was pulling out of a Danelectro guitar and a little Roland amp, and the cleanness and crispness of her playing.

Her relaxed and personable openness, her brilliantly clear writing, and her autobiographical and intelligent storytelling had the audience nestled comfortably in the palm of her hand before the second song, and had us all singing along. She sings with a clear, open voice that can go from angelic to quite gritty, and floats over the insistent tones of her guitar work, with an unhurried but forceful delivery. It was a master class in the songwriting craft and, when Rosie Burgess and Sam Lohs joined her on stage for her final song, it became a master class in vocal harmonies. Real goosebump material.

After a minute's changeover, Susie Keynes and Sam Lohs entered the stage, to thunderous applause and delighted whoops from the Trinity Sessions crowd, who had waited for years to see these two extraordinary performers play together again. It had been five years, Keynes reminded us, since the Church of the Trinity had hosted the Fruit reunion gig, marking the venue's fifteenth anniversary.

We all knew what to expect from these two brilliant players, but I don't think that we were ready. When they threw themselves into some of the Fruit repertoire, we were pushed back into our seats by the energy of it, by the beauty of it, by the memories of it. It was utterly joyous. The improvised banter, the one-liners, the physical humour juxtaposed with fabulous songwriting, subtle and engaging arrangements, harmonies to die for, and understated and egoless guitar solos from both players, make for a mesmerising and totally satisfying show.

When Burgess added a third harmony the sound became thick and lush, as the three voices rose and intertwined before fading into the pulse of the two guitars, the song washing over us in wave upon beautiful wave, until Sam Lohs morphed it into Walk on the Wild Side, complete with "do di do"s that she encouraged from the audience, and then morphed it again into Son of a Preacher Man. We howled with laughter and delight, and joined in the choruses no matter which one it was going to be this time.

After a short intermission, the Tuckshop Ladies, Sam Lohs and Rosie Burgess, were ready to begin, and, with all due respect and humility, we greeted the headline act with window-rattling applause, shouts, and cheers.

Lohs was playing ukulele, an instrument that I personally dislike, and Burgess was playing a bass ukulele, which looked just like a normal ukulele except that the strings are very thick and black.
I was more than prepared to dislike the bass version as well. It is, however, quite difficult to dislike anything at all, or indeed to jot down review notes in one's journal when one is laughing so much that one's body shakes and there are tears streaming down one's cheeks.

In the main the songs were short, and a bit silly. Well very, very silly really, to the point of being completely absurd, and could well be symptoms of some sort of problem, or syndrome, or something. The songs were written in a moving vehicle, as Burgess and Lohs travelled across the country from show to show, cities to festivals.

When two brilliant musicians are trapped in a touring van for kilometre upon kilometre, hour upon hour, for days or weeks of travelling to performances, they can really only do one of two things; write new songs, or go completely bonkers. Lohs and Burgess chose to do both, and the audience embraced the madness with a will.

One of the more serious songs was I Really Like Eating Cheese, which I could identify with, as opposed to the lunacy of a song about a bucket list with such items as telling someone, "I'm Nicole Kidman's niece". The most serious song of them all, though, was the classic, Why Are There No Baby Pigeons?

The total craziness of a Tuckshop Ladies show is not just in the short, silly songs, though, it's all the improvised stuff that these two women bring to a show. Their love for their audience, their craft, and each other is palpable, infectious, and deeply intimate as if we were all at a party enjoying the craic and a laugh.

It was a party, really, a celebration of the anniversary of a great venue, a welcome for some of Australia's best songwriters, and a chance to laugh and cry together while singing, Hot Chips in the Back of the Van.

Of course, I bought some CDs, and a rather splendid Tuckshop Ladies tea towel.