Live Review: Supersuckers, Walken, The Dead Ringers

The dim interior of Crowbar always seems enticing when there's a rock feast on offer, and we descend into its dingy embrace to find locals The Dead Ringers belting out a rough-and-tumble amalgam of punk and country rock that hits like a rabbit punch to the back of the neck. Everything they do rushes by at a frenetic pace, laced with harmonica and fiery energy. They're reminiscent of top-notch southern rockers like Lucero and Slobberbone (especially when enigmatic frontman Justin Smith goes into firebrand mode, the singer pummelling his acoustic guitar like it badly offended him in a former life).

Next up is another strong Brisbane offering in the form of Walken, who've expanded from a duo to a trio in recent times, which only enlarges the palette of their catchy, grunge-punk aesthetic. They're still sans bass, but the twin-guitar attack works nicely, tunes like opener Eagle Eye and the punchy This One's Like A Summer Guy taut, powerful and laden with grimly indelible melody. Rugged frontman Matt Cochran remains stoic in the eye of the hurricane and the trio finish an accomplished set by burning through the propulsive Even If It Kills Me with ferocious intensity.

Arizona-bred rockers Supersuckers have been coming to Brisbane for nearly a quarter of a century now - their inaugural gig just across the road back in 1994 at the now-defunct Roxy, supporting US grindcore outfit Killdozer with a fresh-faced Front End Loader opening - so we know by now what to expect, although there's a massive change-up from the outset when they emerge as a trio, having always been a four-piece in the past. The absence of rhythm guitar off-puts slightly at first, because it changes the usual dynamic of these songs the crowd know so well, although sole remaining guitarist "Metal" Marty Chandler displays pretty impressive chops as he wails away to pick up the slack. Bassist/frontman Eddie Spaghetti is sporting his trademark cowboy hat and sunglasses look and although his voice sounds a bit shot at times he's in typical blustering fettle, throwing up copious devil's horns as he proclaims Suckersuckers to be "the greatest rock'n'roll band in the world" at regular intervals (we, the fans, are in turn labelled "the people of impeccable taste" for recognising this awesomeness). It's all a joke, of course, but on their day Supersuckers really are one of the best rock bands in the business, a grinning hurricane of hedonism and debauchery that takes no prisoners.

They're in full rock mode tonight - as distinct from the occasional foray into country rock that they embark on to mix things up - and the setlist is impeccable from the perspective of a long-term fan, consisting mainly of their '90s canon and containing plenty of really early material such as Luck, Coattail Rider, Sugie and Creepy Jackalope Eye, which still sound as vital (and extreme) as ever. They attack everything at full tilt but there's so much innate melody to tracks like Cool Manchu, I Want The Drugs, Fisticuffs and Doublewide, plus plenty of meta references to the rock oeuvre itself in tracks like Rock-N-Roll Records (Ain't Selling This Year), The Evil Powers Of Rock N' Roll and Rock Your Ass. They raise their guitars in mock triumph at the end of the blistering Goodbye as if that's the end of proceedings, but Supersuckers don't do encores - never have, never will - and quickly rally to bring things home in a crescendo of adulation with glorious downward spiral anthem Pretty Fucked Up, a glorious take on Thin Lizzy's Cowboy Song and then the obligatory tear through of Supersuckers' one mainstream dalliance Born With A Tail to bring it all home. It's awesome that this killer rock band remains at the coalface after all these years and, even if they're mainly preaching to the converted these days, long may they continue to reign.