Live Review: Bahamas, Fraser A Gorman

It is a mild Tuesday evening in Adelaide. The Grace Emily barman hasn't even bothered lighting the fireplace. A few punters hover around the beer taps and a retro telly flickers with obscure B-grade cinema. There's absolutely no hint of the genuinely stunning gig about to go down in the pub's cosy band room.

Fraser A Gorman was here a few months ago, and he seems glad to be back. He's got a few new songs and a new bass player. His three-piece ensemble sketches out subdued rock'n'roll at a volume perfect for the tiny Grace stage: muted bass bounces alongside vintage Ludwig drums, and Gorman occasionally augments the arrangements with a late '50s-style guitar solo or a few breaths of harmonica. "People sometimes say I look a bit like Bob Dylan," he wryly acknowledges, running a hand through the untamed frizz on his head. "But I've always thought I'm more of a Leo Sayer."

Such is the disarming charm of Fraser A Gorman — his affable onstage nature extends to lyrical motifs concerning bringing in a load of washing on time, and the way high-rise window washers surely have balls of solid steel. At its poppiest, the band is reminiscent of a sedated Teenage Fanclub, or perhaps even Lemonheads (and by extension, Smudge). Gorman flies solo for a Wilco cover — a further clue to possible influences of this endearing young performer.

Bahamas' latest record Bahamas Is Afie is helpfully titled. Afie Jurvanen is a 34-year-old Canadian whose confident delivery sweeps from breathy baritone to soulful falsetto in a split second, mesmerising and affecting and free of melismas. Like Gorman, he's sort of lumped into the 'folk' basket, but it's an inadequate label. What Bahamas really sounds like is a soulful slow-jam band that has pinched St Vincent's effects pedals. There's lots of layered melody going on courtesy of a tasteful and laser-precise backing band — backing vocalist Felicity Williams often doubles or harmonises with the muted, staccato licks delivered by Jurvanen.

These appreciably modern textures work devastatingly well with Jurvanen's voice, his songwriting, and indeed the entire Bahamas package. As good as Bahamas' recorded output is, tonight's live interpretations are transcendent. This reviewer can't remember the last gig at which they blissed out to a moment of pure music — no vocal, no technically astounding soloist, no noisy crowd, no preconceptions — just a drummer, bassist, and guitarist gently rocking between three or four well-chosen chords for as long as necessary. Bahamas is fucking sublime.