Live Review: The Smith Street Band, The Front Bottoms, Apologies, I Have None, Flower-Mouth

4 December 2014 | 9:59 am | Kane Sutton

A rowdy crowd only added to the atmosphere of another killer Smith Street Band gig.

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The penultimate show of The Smith Street Band’s sold-out national tour took place at the Rosemount Hotel on Saturday night.

Locals Flowermouth have a tendency to feature on a lot of high profile punk-rock bills and for good reason – the already swelling crowd were taken by the band’s surging, grungy guitar hooks and thumping vocals, and it proved a more than appropriate warm-up for what was to follow.

Beer was already being thrown into the air within five minutes of Apologies, I Have None beginning their set. There’s something instantly enjoyable about seeing a punk band in Australia fronted by a man with a London drawl, and everyone lapped it up.

New Jersey’s The Front Bottoms were greeted by a heavy roar from the packed-out venue, and they worked the crowd with a number of catchy skate-rock tracks. Au Revoir (Adios) was a huge highlight, as were Skeleton and Swimming Pool, with practically the entire building singing the lyrics right back at frontman Brian Sella. Given the reception they received, they should definitely be considering making their way back to our shores soon.

Even when you thought the venue had reached capacity, a herd of people seemed to make their way into the venue in the 15 minutes between The Front Bottoms finishing and The Smith Street Band beginning. It was bumper to bumper, and the crowd demographic was all over the place, but everyone was in such good spirits. The stirring chant of “Smiiiiiiith Streeeeeet” was coursing through the crowd before Wil Wager and co launched into Something I Can Hold In My Hands, and suddenly it was on.

Hands in the air, beer flying everywhere, the tempo was through the roof from the get-go. The guitar hook for Surrender came in without warning, prompting crowd-surfer after crowd-surfer to get up and do their thing. The security had little hope; there was simply too much energy in the room to try and keep order. Wagner may have been aware, as he dedicated Sigourney Weaver to petite-looking women in the front row and asked they be looked out for. Don’t Fuck With Our Dreams produced a rousing sing-along and the most crowd-surfing of the night, and another chant rang through the venue as the band left the stage, prompting them to come back and perform Young Drunk to roars of appreciation from the crowd.

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Wagner has stated on a number of occasions that the band seems to have no shortage of haters for whatever reason, but this scribe urges you – see the Smith Street Band at least once; you won’t regret it.