Wednesday's singer lets it all come out.
Wednesday's singer lets it all come out.
How one song at Whammy Bar changed everything.
Karly Hartzman sings a song that strains her vocal cords so badly she has to end any show she’s playing once it’s over.
Last night, when her band Wednesday performed a rammed and rowdy sold out show at Auckland’s Whammy Bar, she gave the crowd plenty of warning before it happened.
“After this, the show’s over,” she told them. “I can’t play anymore.”
That song is called ‘Bull Believer’ and on record it is a blitzkrieg maelstrom that sounds like Adrianne Lenker attempting to condense the entirety of Band of Horses’ Cease to Begin and Pearl Jam’s Vs into a bruising eight minutes and 40 seconds.
“It’s a crazy song,” Hartzman warned again last night.
She’s right.
When performed live, ‘Bull Believer’ is an absolute monster.
It is tumultuous.
It is hectic.
It wriggles and writhes like a distressed toddler, kicking and screaming into the abyss.
Last night, that song forced someone with their arm wrapped in a sling to jump into the moshpit.
It made such an impression on Whammy’s bartender that, using a series of pulleys attached to a basket, he sent a collection of cold beers over the heads of moshers and into the hands of the band to congratulate them.
Nearby, someone began burning incense.
Over all of this is Hartzman’s bloodletting, a howl that expresses her ecstatic agony. It’s a song on which she lets it all come out. God damn it was good, one of those moments that live music fiends like me can’t stop chasing.
With their countrified take on grunge, Nashville’s Wednesday are riding the crest of the current 90s revival. They’ve been in New Zealand for a while now, performing Wellington and Auckland sideshows on the back of their dual appearances at Camp a Low Hum.
As good as last night’s performance was, and as much as I was looking forward to it, I wasn’t going to write about it.
I just wanted to enjoy it, soak it up and sink into it.
As proof, I only took one photo and that photo came out like this…
Then ‘Bull Believer’ happened, and it changed my mind.
There were hints through the show they were building to something special. Like the buzzsaw guitar riffs of ‘Hot Rotten Grass Smell’. Or the chugging anthem ‘Bath County’ that included another excellent Hartzman howl as her bandmate and partner, MJ Lenderman, hunched over his guitar next to her.
Much of the setlist was cherry-picked from last year’s excellent Rat Saw God, one of my favourite albums of 2023 and one that I used to soundtrack my cursed year.
Then came the moment.
Hartzman introduced the night’s final song by getting political. She commiserated with our “fucked up” government, compared the situation to her own back to America, then turned her attention to Gaza.
She apologised for getting serious, but cautioned: “If you’re given a microphone, you’ve got to say something.”
It set the tone for the following eight minutes, a song that ended with Hartzman straining her neck back, gazing up at Whammy Bar’s low ceiling and howling “Finish him” over and over into her microphone.
“Finish him.”
“FINISH HIM.”
Finish him.
Right now, those two words can mean so much.
You could aim them at so many people. Vladimir Putin. Christopher Luxon. Brian Houston. Donald Trump. Russell Brand. Mike Hosking. Andrew Tate. Joe Rogan.
David fucking Seymour.
I don’t know who Hartzman was thinking of when she wrote that song and chose to end it with a classic line from Mortal Kombat.
But the catharsis it gave last night’s crowd was worth the pain – and the scorched vocal cords.
I just hope Karly’s voice is OK this morning.
Perhaps some Lemsip would help?
Thanks for being here and for reading Boiler Room. I mean that sincerely: things are getting bleaker for media week by week. These headlines are just from today:
It isn’t lost on me that going to Whammy Bar on a Thursday night to see a band perform then staying up late to write about it afterwards and then having a collection of awesome people read and comment on it the next day is a privilege.
So, once again, thank you. I mean that.
Speaking about grunge throwbacks…
If you’re a Pearl Jam fan, today’s a big day.
Tickets for the grunge titans’ first show here in 10 years go on sale at midday.
I’ve already expressed how I feel about the band’s pre-sale registration process, so I don’t need to say any more about that.
If you entered the draw, last night you should have received an email about whether or not you can take part in today’s dumb ticket lottery.
I’m one of the lucky ones: I get to try and buy tickets....
I don’t feel good about it.
Me getting that chance means there’s a Pearl Jam fan somewhere out there who has to sit in a waiting room with their fingers crossed.
For that, I’m sorry. That’s not a good experience.
Good luck out there everyone.
See you in the Ticketmaster queues.
And let’s talk about it on Monday.
-Chris.
Have you seen today's Sydney Herald article Music festivals in crisis- where have all the young people gone? Can post if you don't have access
Nice picture!