Live Review: RACKETT

It can be easy to forget that live music is an inherently physical thing - that the people on stage are not only giving you their music and their feelings for a few hours, but ALSO their bodies too.

If you feel like you need reminding of this, then this scribe recommends attending a RACKETT show. Performance takes on a whole new meaning in the hands of Bec Callander and company. It's a full body experience for all involved as Callander flips the bird at every boundary that might appear to be in her way. The stage too small? No problem - join the mosh. Too hot? Take your clothes off. Eyeliner running? All the better.

She spent the set leaping into the crowd, climbing atop amps and screaming in the faces of her audience members - all while (for the most part) sporting the band's signature white skivvies and thigh-high stockings. It's sweaty business being in RACKETT and, as their clothes came off, they demanded the same of their audience; without a moment's hesitation, a wave of shirts were doffed. After all, "We are only in this sweaty shit-box once", as Callander said. By the end of the show, three pairs of shoes were off, a few shirts were flung to the side and Callander was shredding in her undies for the night's final track.

It should be said that Callander managed to do all of these things while nailing each and every lyric in the band's demanding repertoire. The songs require not only strength, but also a hefty vocal range and commitment to character: sometimes that's a bratty teenager, other times it's full punk bravado. This kind of precision is only possible with the help of the talent that joins her on stage, specifically the stellar, absolutely mental drumming that comes out of Astrid Holz.