Live Review: Future Of The Left, Turnpike, Hound

A solid crowd has gathered early to catch young local rock dogs Hound tearing through a set of urgent, punk-tinged rock, heavily favouring tracks from their recent debut album Drown With The Lot. The four-piece attack everything at breakneck pace but they churn out plenty of hooks and melodies in the process, the end result as accessible as it is propulsive.

Veteran Brisbane post-hardcore outfit Turnpike have become something of a default cohort for tonight's headliners in the last few years - this being their third time holding down the main support slot for the Welsh band - which is in itself great just because the trio's live appearances have become few and far between in recent times. They've lost none of the visceral potency that's long held them in good stead as scenes have risen then crumbled around them, nor the innate chemistry that invariably makes them so compelling. Guitarist Adam King barks lyrics with a harried conviction - his voice almost used as another instrument rather than a means to convey an actual message - while lanky bassist Tim Evans writhes and contorts as he strangles out bottom end, Chris Bryant holding everything down behind them with the detached power of his drum work. There's plenty of sonic diversity as they flit seamlessly between doomy soundscapes and more uptempo tracks, proving effortlessly intricate as well as intense when the mood requires.

The Foundry's grungy interior is packed by the time Future Of The Left take the stage, the first time in numerous trips to Brisbane (including with their precedent band Mclusky) that they've played anywhere other than The Zoo. They open with the scabrous The Lord Hates A Coward, which finds frontman Andrew 'Falco' Falkous in acerbic form from the get-go, the crowd going ballistic early as they follow this with unmitigated live banger Arming Eritrea. They move quickly onto Small Bones Small Bodies, drummer Jack Egglestone providing the trademark solid groove under the guitar mayhem, teaming with bassist Julia Ruzicka to provide fearsome rhythms as touring band member Ian Wilson (of English indie rockers Art Brut) adds heft on the six-string front. Things take a strange turn amid the almost-spoken-word verbiage of the weird and twisted Miner's Gruel from most recent album The Peace & Truce Of Future Of The Left, the quartet sliding in another old favourite Adeadenemyalwayssmellsgood before moving onto another new one in the form of The Limits Of Battleships, Falco spitting out the twisted polemic as if possessed. After a stinging run through Beneath The Waves An Ocean, another old fave in the form of Manchasm is tossed into the mix - the band pared down to essentially drums, keys and vocals, and staying in stripped-back mode for the industrial burst of You Need Satan More Than He Needs You. They nod to the past once more with a frenetic take on Mclusky classic To Hell With Good Intentions - sending the packed room into ecstatic convulsions - before they keep energy levels in the red with Robocop 4 - Fuck Off Robocop, the veins on Falco's neck bulging as if to burst as he gives everything at his disposal. Scathing renditions of new tracks Eating For None and If AT&T Drank Tea What Would BP Do? are so well-received that Falco deadpans, "You guys have reached crowd level optimum six so you get an extra song," before deviating from the setlist with another Mclusky fave Gareth Brown Says (with its immortally jovial opening line, "All of your friends are cunts/Your mother is a ballpoint pen thief").

It's a stinking hot night and the band seem nearing exhaustion point but battle on, the hilarious sentiment of How To Spot A Record Company perfectly mixing hilarity and brutality before they close the set with a medley that starts with the quiet poignancy of French Lessons then erupts into snatches of Singing Of The Bonesaws and Lapsed Catholics before one final segue into the immortal Mclusky tune Lightsabre Cocksucking Blues. At this juncture a fine night of rock'n'roll once more descends into mayhem, Falco systematically dismantling Egglestone's kit while he's still playing as first Ruzicka and then Wilson are passed joyfully over the crowd: this is a band who not only know how to put on a brilliant rock show but also how to end one properly. Once again Future Of The Left provide a wonderful, immersive amalgam of gloriously lowbrow rock'n'roll and highbrow humour, providing us with an endlessly entertaining and utterly unique spectacle in the process.