Live Review: The Bronx, High Tension, Private Function

Having the night open with corner pub punks Private Function was a smart move and their set is probably best summarised by a later rhetorical from High Tension's Karina Utomo, “Who had fun during Private Function? They are so fucking good!”

You can’t deny that they noticeably divide the audience throughout the set, bury themselves in Australiana RSL shit talk banter, and would likely enjoy nothing more than to be able to stoke a bucket atop the foldbacks. The band's ‘don’t give a fuck, just party with us’ attitude is a pretty perfect approach to allow being as stupid onstage as they’d like. No matter what the folks thought (and it was definitely mixed reaction), it's fucking grand to see the likes of Private Function keep the Cosmic Psychos flame well-lit and with a grin.

In complete contrast, High Tension arrived with zero care for banter, leaving their onstage delivery to do the talking through their most recent LP opener Red White Shame. Impressively negating the standard double kick and blast beats template of their contemporaries, they go about pacing the crowd with a slow churning aggression, almost challenging the punters to step up to them and match the band's own attack.

Utomo knows better than most that she has to light the wick to be ready for the main act, and she’s hostile in taking it too. Crouching over the stage edge and smashing banshee screams at the barrier with the ruthless High Risk, High Rewards, even her small stature leaves no doubt that she’d still kick the ass of any person who even thought to take her microphone.

Having Capitol at middling capacity admittedly felt strange at first compared to previous tours, it all quickly fell into place however when The Bronx turned up, again throwing down the energy like it was the most important gig of their career. Hauling a sweaty mass through the set-opening trio with a full stop of Shitty Future, it was impossible not to be swept up by the party starting antics of Matt Caughthran or the group's high octane punk ruthlessness. Every track lands perfectly on the chin of the room and sends an endless stream of bodies flying over the barrier, it’s a constantly building set that quickly hits a feverish peak in a way that surely only The Bronx can do. The LA outfit may have a slightly refreshed line-up with the beastly Joey Castillo taking the skins, but make no mistake, this is still that much craved and unmissable set that you’ll be raving about to your friends for weeks after they’ve left our shores.