All Our Exes Live In Texas

Sometimes it's easy to forget the true communal importance of music within a culture. It's far too easy to simply think of it as a luxury, instead of an essential component of societal growth and reflection. As highfalutin or hyperbolic as it may sound, tonight's proceedings were a truly heartwarming and genuine reminder of everything music can be and bring to a people.

The headline performance, however, was something truly remarkable - and what truly bore out the central hypothesis of the evening's proceedings. Unless you saw it for yourself, you'd have difficulty believing just how many different feelings and experiences were bundled up in the performance of All Our Exes Live In Texas. This is a group who openly admit they specialise in chronicling heartache that, in between songs of almost overwhelming beauty and faultless technique, are so gutbustingly hilarious that laughter risks becoming physically painful.

It's genuinely difficult to sum up the experience. In one instant, it's being caught up in the four-part vocal harmonies and crushingly honest lyrics of a song like Sailboat. In another, it's listening to Elana Stone and Katie Wighton ruminate on stabbing one another for publicity while Georgia Mooney struggles to contain her disgust. It's feeling delight and connection with an entire venue of people - and struggling with some of the most beautiful and sad music you've ever heard. It's joy, pain and humour. Solitude, connection, stupidity and genius.

Seriously, it'll make you believe again. Don't ever miss this band. - The Music

All Our Exes Live in Texas mixed banter with their honeyed harmonies and felt like a trip to Nashville's Grand Ole Opry. But as one in the female quartet said, when you're from Brisbane, "all my exes are here in Woodford". - Sydney Morning Herald

Leading the night’s colourful charge was the delightful Miss Eileen & King Lear, a brother-sister duo plucked from their own more expansive family group, Perch Creek. The latter are a well-established presence on the festival scene these days, and while Eileen and Lear don’t deviate too far from what makes Perch Creek so engrossing, they do manage to carve their own identity with numbers like ‘Sunday’ and ‘Last Song’, and their voices sure are something special.

Next up was ARIA-courtin’ Fanny Lumsden and The Thrillseekers. If Eileen and Lear brought the indie folk, Lumsden sure brought the country. It was a well-crafted set, with ‘Land Of Gold’ a fun standout with strong lyrics and some splendid guitar. That said, Lumsden herself seemed a touch out of sorts, and on a handful of occasions grew a little lost up there. She never let it get the best of her, though, and the performance rarely wavered.

And then, bam! With suitably extravagant shoes, All Our Exes Live In Texas took the stage. You feel pity for whoever finds themselves doing sound at one of these gigs, since the band has such an array of tones it must be like working at air traffic control (either that, or they’re harbouring a crush for Katie Wighton and deliberately gave her the lion’s share of volume). Given the amount of heartache and nostalgia woven through their lyrics, you also pity the mounds of ex-boyfriends that must surely litter the Texan arroyos these days; love and music make tragic bedfellows.

I’ve caught Exes many times now, and familiar as their songs have become, each gig manages to attain something unique thanks in large part to their comic banter. They wear the stage like an old, comfortable dressing gown and swap stories and anecdotes with unconcerned ease. There’s also a strong educational element to their insights. I never knew killer vending machines could follow me unawares down dark alleys – I’ll never buy snacks the same way again.

It also means their songs can go happily off the rails, as occurred when Tame Impala cover ‘Eventually’ was interrupted while they got their laughter under control. Exes share primary vocal duties fairly evenly, so it’s unsurprising they each have a highlight; ‘I’m Gonna Get My Heart Cut Out’ (Elana Stone), ‘The Devil’s Part’ (Hannah Crofts, absolutely nailing the eponymous single release), ‘Childhood Home’ (Georgia Mooney) and ‘Our Love Won’t Die’ (Wighton, and a song I’ll never tire of hearing).

The night ended in full and raucous fashion, as supports and headliners alike took the stage to bring The White Stripes’ ‘Hotel Yorba’ to colourful, shambling life (and while the audience kept shushing the bar staff for making noise, like nannas scolding misbehaving children). Grand times. - The Brag