Live Review: The Peep Tempel, Mesa Cosa, Jackals, The Kremlins @ The Tote

The snap of noisy distortion pounds through the beer garden, signalling the arrival of heavy-rockers The Kremlings. With four acts on the bill, it's no wonder they kick off the Tote's Friday 13th celebration at the civil hour of 8.50pm. Lead singer Andre Merino is wildly animated as he swaggers, prances and frenetically attempts to jostle his static bandmates. With only a mic cord to fidget with, it's a shame the poor guy doesn't have a guitar to smash.

The Jackals thrill through dark and heavy reverb, with hints of Nick Cave/Tom Waits peppered throughout. Mesa Cosa however, continue to reign the support slots in Melbourne. Their exciting, demonic stage presence isn't lost on the growing crowd as they howl and tumble about the stage, coaxing the killjoys sitting on the floor to their feet.

Fists are pumped and jackets are peeled in the now-packed room for the headlining act The Peep Tempel. Originally forming as a two-piece in 2009, the band recorded two 7” vinyl singles before officially adding bass to the line-up. Released in February, their debut LP is packed with addictive, anthemic, grunge-rock tunes, earning them a fierce allegiance. Lance, a rock number rich in its hasty tempo, gets the crowd buzzing with feverish intensity. The pit momentarily slows down for Mission Floyd, a measured rock tune with an underlying funk flavour warranting the raised glasses exhibited. By default, singer/guitarist Blake Scott crowns 'Charlie' the night's mascot, continually wishing the merch-clad fan a happy birthday in-between songs.

The set continues to intensify as Thank You Machiavelli swells around a walloping beat and choppy vocals à la Chris Cheney before Scott provides a moment of relief with, “I can barely speak I'm so unfit!” Potent in its '90s pop-punk nostalgia, Do What You Want has the eager crowd charging their arms in the air in time with each chorus lyric, an act that has the band smiling in gratitude. The set propels beyond constraint with the crowd uniting to chant, “…you won't sleep at the Peep Temp-EL!” from Down At The Peep Tempel before ending the set. Despite previous releases, they prune their set of any old recordings until a throng of devotees scream for Boots On The Bed as an encore, to which they happily oblige. Is Friday 13th really a night of bad omens? I beg to differ.