"The audience hardly seem satiated and cheer out again for 'Carol' even after it's been played (and played bloody well, too)."
One-man shred army Pselodux kicks things off for the smattering of people who've arrived early. Pselodux wails on a headless guitar to a backing track of '80s MIDI drums and bass, his tunes boasting an impressive catalogue of riffs, guitarmonies and time signature changes. Despite the thinly scattered crowd, he performs as if he's having some kind of awakening; but the schlock isn't over-the-top, even if it does make for an unconventional opening act.
Up next are the reliable East Brunswick All Girls Choir, whose singer Marcus Hobbs complains of a hangover that's been bothering him all day. Thankfully, his band's woozy, blues-tinged songs are a pretty comfortable fit for a slightly dusty Sunday evening and the band's energy doesn't appear to suffer. Shuffling drums and wails of dramatic feedback cut through the slackerish slump of single West Brunswick beautifully, and Hobbs' distinctive voice sounds as pure as ever. We'll forgive the sunglasses, but not the sooking!
As the sun sets, Cash Savage & The Last Drinks take the stage and rip into a set of evocative Americana, which builds in intensity. While much of the momentum can be put down to The Bad Seeds-like backing band — who add colour with banjo, violin and four-part harmonies — the real highlight is Savage's inimitable presence and charisma, commandeering the space with menacing-but-mesmerising authority. Dropping the guitar and seizing the mic for Hypnotiser, Savage grabs the crowd's attention, prowling the stage while spitting acidic lyrics and, before long, the audience has been well and truly whipped into a frenzy.
There's a bit of a wait in the unseasonable cold before The Peep Tempel arrive on stage and there's a twinkle in frontman Blake Scott's eye as he asks the crowd, "You guys wanna warm up?" We You Forgot provides ample opportunity to get bodies moving, as does the faster and more frantic Rayguns, which follows. Bathed in red light, Scott flails around on his guitar and barks into the mic in moments of controlled chaos, as bass and drums maintain a steady, imposing pulse.
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During Totality, the cathartic atmosphere starts to really get blood boiling; acting as an inferred permission slip for some macho aggression in the moshpit. The band endeavour to foster peace with their surprisingly unruly crowd: a request for breakout hit Carol is met with a reminder that "patience is all we've got... until we're dead". The more upbeat Constable provides a welcome change in tone, before Scott dramatically detunes his guitar for the song's moody outro. Despite a rip-roaring headline set, the audience hardly seem satiated and cheer out again for Carol even after it's been played (and played bloody well, too).