Live Review: Mt Cleverest, Death By Denim, Boykie

As the first punters started to trickle into Jack Rabbit Slim's on a cold, wet May night, local boys Boykie mounted the stage early on to deliver their unique punk-influenced blues-rock with smatterings of reggae. A modest crowd watched intently as frontman Sam Stepforth, perched on a stool on account of an injured foot, spat and crooned out recent singles Still Hiding, Jet-Lagged and Mixed Up before a whimsical jazzy interlude. The guys thanked the early-birds for their support, winding down to the soothing post-night out feel of I Didn't Have A Shower Today before winding right back up with a brief cover of Rage Against The Machine's Killing in The Name, which seemed to catch Stepforth off guard as he attempted to hobble along.

A swift break allowed local rockers Death By Denim, wearing disappointingly little of denim, to take the stage and have a decent crack at stealing the show from the headline. Denim's chilled out reggae-inspired vibe seemed to produce a crowd out of nowhere in no time at all with charismatic, floppy-haired frontman Nik Iliadis prowling the stage. Sexy rock ballad Smoke Screen proved a big hit with the punters as hips and bodies swayed rhythmically. Denim also proved they had a surprise in their locker with a slick cover of Harry Styles' hit Sign Of The Times. The quartet finished their set with Perth's Golden Triangle ode Suburban Royalty before leaving punters hungry for just that bit more.

There was no mistaking who the headline was if the sardine-packed venue was anything to go by. Shouts to the bass player Tom Beech by punters on a first name basis signalled a large contingent of the 'friends and family' brigade but nevertheless added to the excitable atmosphere. Mt Cleverest's style is hard to pin down with the exception of the lazy, blanket term 'indie-rock'. Comparisons to UK rockers Arctic Monkeys are laboured as Mt Cleverest exude something too quintessentially Australian for that comparison to hold true. The band fed off the hometown crowd and consistently gave back what they took in with tight melodies and frontman Christian Mechler's half yelled, half growled Aussie drawl. As the set came to an end, the now rabid crowd had swelled to capacity and some of the more daring punters began mounting shoulders — much to the chagrin of security but to the delight and excitement of all others.