LAST week I went down to the Whanganui Musicians Club to see Anika Moa perform. The Muso Club has a solid reputation among New Zealand and overseas musicians as one of the country's great venues, famous for its enthusiastic audiences and brilliant atmosphere. The Savage Club Hall has character, good acoustics and a decent stage. The club is propelled by the energy of the Musicians Club committee, all volunteers who work hard to make it all happen on the night, harnessed to the collective enthusiasm of Wanganui people for great music.
Having followed their fortunes over the past few years and enjoyed the atmosphere, as a performer on stage and as a punter in the crowd, it was good to see someone of Anika's musical stature swing her tour our way. The crowd were a boisterous lot. They talked at the top of their voices throughout the opening set by SJD. I started to feel uncomfortable as the crowd noise went up, drowning out much of the actual music. Admittedly, I found his set represented mediocrity at its best. There was little evidence of the much talked-up talent. His performance was like an amateur night showing with stray flat notes and beginner guitar. Nevertheless, I found myself feeling embarrassed as the audience continued to yahoo.
Then Anika came on together with Jol Mulholland on assorted keyboards and guitars and the evening caught alight. Anika does rugged charm with great confidence. She has a stunning voice, is a good guitar player and writes great material. The crowd talked on. They got louder and, as the audience noise escalated, it became obvious she was getting peeved. She tried polite and asked nicely. She tried the more blunt approach of telling people to shut up - all to no avail.
The loud talking from large sections of the crowd continued. At one point, she began introducing a song about her father passing away. This should have brought some respect for the song and the context. She again asked that she be heard but a large proportion of the audience ignored her and continued their strident conversations. She quite rightly got bolshie and demanded quiet but there was no stopping some in the hall from talking. In the end, driven by a collective sense of embarrassment in some quarters, some people began a call for hush. It took a minute or two for the idea to sink in but gradually the crowd noise subsided. The occasional loud conversation still sparked up in the relative silence but was quickly doused with a dose of shushing from sections of the audience.
Anika told the story behind the song and sang it with a passion that shook the room. By the next song those who had paid to get in and talk all night had reasserted themselves and the crowd noise went up again.
