Live Review: West Thebarton, A Swayze & The Ghosts, Being Jane Lane

The Triffid isn't the sweaty bar you usually find the West Thebarton crew splitting in half. But with such a stellar reception at Beer Incider where they literally got the entire crowd to jump in sync with them, the Adelaide punk orchestra have decided to give Queensland a special treat.

Local femme punk legends Being Jane Lane open the night, far from their usual stomping ground of West End. Their fanclub have shown out in full force, with the barrier stacked with fans hoping to get some skin on skin contact. There's a certain seriousness and professionalism that all punk bands seem to unknowingly take on, but Being Jane Lane are just here to have fun. It shows tenfold at all their shows, with the band running all over the stage like a dog let loose in the park. The lighting teams decision to turn the lights to black between songs makes for a constant source of entertainment as lead singer Teigan runs through scenario after scenario of how to capitalise on the switch up. As the band come to a close with Be OK, the crowd has swelled dramatically and even some forms of hardcore dance circles have started for the CHUNKY riffs of their latest single.

The influence of iconic Aussie punk act Eddy Current Suppression Ring is overt for A Swayze & The Ghosts but that's not a problem. Set highlight Reciprocation sees lead singer Andrew addressing the crowd to "hang in there, this song's long" before jumping off stage and running to the back of the venue whilst shaking a tambourine in all manner of time signatures. Minutes later, he has arisen from the sweaty pits of The Triffid with a fresh beer in hand and a renewed passion to make the crowd lose their minds. Soon after, the in-your-face energy of Suddenly opens up the first faux-mosh-pit of the night, thankfully. Constant spewing of "shooey" from the crowd between songs wears down the act before they finally cave. Only to have a young punter come on stage and be doused in the singers beer instead of the lukewarm VB from his indie Vans shoe. Iconic. West Thebarton obviously think highly of the Tasmanian punk thinkers and justifiably so with their show being a spectacular mix of long-form jams and frontman buffoonery. A bit of Parquet Courts, a bit of classic Aussie punk, all over supreme.

As the climax of Sabotage by the Beastie Boys blasts through the PA, the seven-strong gang of West Thebarton equip themselves with their choice of on-stage weapon. The pits which managed to erupt during the previous set have left a thin musk of BO in the air and for some reason the floor is stickier than usual. This sets the ideal battlefield for a West Thebarton set, as lead singer Rev outlines “there are two rules for tonight, enjoy yourself and have a good time, oh and don’t be a dick!” What follows is the quickest sea of crowd surfers we’ve seen, a record six crowd surfers in the set opener alone. When the undeniable energy of Moving Out makes an appearance the crowd surfers soon turn to rugby tackles in the pit. The pit for a West Thebarton show is more of a scrum than a dance floor in all honesty. There’s guys left and right acting as ladders to get gladiators onto the shoulders of their fellow man, all in the hope of an embrace from Rev before being sent to valhalla by security. Set highlight Glenn McGrath sees a tour debut having "not been played for six months" and justifiably so with the overbearing cricket references going down better than a XXXX Gold during a summer storm. Lucky Brisbanites get two new tracks thrown into the mix with each presenting a progression on the tride and true West Thebby sound. One going down a much faster and louder route than the band is known for, as hard as that may be to imagine. While the other has an incredible soft/loud progression which jams as more of a Nirvana song with those classic vocal pipes of Rev over the top, sublime. Ending the night with the soul spin of Bible Camp, percussionist extraordinaire and guitarist Brian takes it on himself to just go ahead and climb the stage and bang his tambourine on the roof. Just to one up Andrew from A Swayze & The Ghosts, of course. Yet this mayhem on stage is nothing compared to what erupts in the pit as news of “one last song” sends punters from rugby tackles into full-scale war. Punters square off in duels in circle pits, shoes fly, some boys start line dancing for some reason, The Triffid gets real messy real fast. At the end all that is left is an especially pungent mist that can’t be explained and an empty bottle of Jameson on stage.