Live Review: Violent Soho, The Smith Street Band, Malakyte - The Hi-Fi

Keeping perfectly in line with Violent Soho’s unrelenting ‘we do what we want’ policy, tonight’s proceedings are opened by the breakneck speed metal of Brisbane outfit Malakyte.

Despite having nothing in common with their bill-mates tonight – except perhaps the suburban pride displayed when they give a shout-out to their ‘burb of Spring Hill – the hairy five-piece hold nothing back with their intense live show, and while their unrelenting brutality leaves a few punters scratching their heads they elicit some headbanging and devil horns from front of stage which is surely half the battle. Towards the end of the set firebrand vocalist Tommy Muz pulls out some mean air guitar and then dives into the crowd and is held victoriously aloft, tonight’s fun having well-and-truly commenced.

The amp head of The Smith Street Band has 3051 clearly gaffer taped across it – the postcode of the North Melbourne area – so hometown pride is clearly alive and well down south, and they begin their set firing on all cylinders as they smash into Sunshine & Technology which segues directly into the epic and anthemic Don’t Fuck With Our Dreams, the entire opening gambit proving propulsive, wordy and inspiring. Charismatic frontman Wil Wagner is as outwardly unprepossessing as ever in his footy shorts and T-shirt, but as he sings the narrative to Ducks Fly Together the crowd belts the lyrics back en masse – not just the chorus but the verses as well – and the sense of camaraderie and community they conjure is intense, quite remarkably so for a support band.

They throw in new song Surrender from the album they’re currently working on and it’s massive and catchy, but when they move onto Get High, See Mice (“a song about weed and girls” according to Wagner) the instant familiarity takes things to the next level. The band themselves are tight and play resolutely as a unit – this gang mentality working clearly in their favour – and another promising new track I Don’t Want To Die Anymore is thrown into the mix before the capacity crowd goes crazy for I Can’t Feel My Face, the arrangement strange but joyous.

This is the last night that The Smith Street Band share on this tour and they offer an impassioned thanks to their touring mates before belting into Sigourney Weaver – like so many of their songs a treatise on overcoming adversity – and then finish a brilliant set with the tour de force Young Drunk, the vociferous swarm before them lapping it up and finally coming to the table with some crowd-surfing at the very tail-end of proceedings.

By now the crowd at The Hi-Fi has swelled to saturation point and there’s a tangible sense of hometown pride and excitement as the now familiar Hungry Ghost banner stares witheringly down from the backdrop behind the stage. Before long the four clearly chuffed members of Violent Soho enter the fray to a heroes’ reception and begin in a somewhat subdued manner before kicking into the heart of Dope Calypso and the place explodes, the huge light show adding to the spectacle as detritus such as shoes and empty cups fly through the air, cutting through the undiluted adulation.

Frontman Luke Boerdam is proudly sporting a Smith Street Band T-shirt and uber-hirsute guitarist James Tidswell is snapping his neck and flailing his hair like his life depends on it as they power into Lowbrow, the crowd reacting fervently to instant recognition of every song as they move through Neighbour Neighbour and Love Is a Heavy Word which has the whole venue clapping in unison during the immense breakdown.

The cruisy Fur Eyes offers a more restrained side to the four-piece and their fans lap it up, a few minutes of respite offered as they continue with the nuanced ease of Saramona Says. The Soho boys are animated and deliver the goods without appearing even slightly ahead of themselves, and when Wagner joins them onstage to add backing vocals to the powerful In The Aisle there’s so much love in the room you could just about bottle it. The rest of the Smith Street contingent then also crowd the stage for a tour photo before the show continues with the cutting one-two punch of OK Cathedral and Jesus Stole My Girlfriend, the sound immense and pristine and perfect.

Tinderbox sounds driving and vital in these surrounds but shrinks in comparison to Covered In Chrome. which sends the place into paroxysms of delight, seeming to capture the zeitgeist even as the Smith Street crew return to prank by throwing toilet paper and liquids everywhere but ultimately just adding to the mayhem rather than detracting from the fun. A riotous version of Eightfold completes the set proper, but they aren’t going to leave their braying Brisbane followers without a farewell and return to the stage to power through Liars and the ever-defiant Muscle Junkie.

The by now exhausted throng is spent but jubilant as they file into the streets of West End having witnessed a show that would have been incredible coming from any band on the planet, but which seems even more special having been delivered by our much-loved sons of Mansfield. Onwards and upwards.