Live Review: Last Dinosaurs - Phoenix Public House

At 7.30pm, the Phoenix Public House is far from a desolate pre-gig band room. Instead, the venue is alive and brimming with packs of jovial indie kids hankering for tonight's headliners. Ever since the March release of their debut album In A Million Years, the Brisbane boys have garnered a substantial amount of national hype, resulting in tonight's speedy sell-out. The evident parallels between the Brisbane support acts and Last Dinosaurs ensure a solid prelim. Amazingly, the arrival of Gung Ho completely mutes the excitable crowd, with each group flocking together to form one. The three-piece are extremely fun to watch as they churn through their indie-pop tunes, with a bout of strobe lighting thrown in for good measure. Despite a brief sound glitch, all is forgiven as Millions turn it up a few decibels to include a funky rendition of Be My Baby by The Ronettes, a brilliant cover that is unfortunately lost on the predominantly dewy-eyed crowd.

At 10pm, the lights are cut as the sound of muffled radio presenters is transmitted through the venue, preluding the beaming Last Dinosaurs bouncing onstage. Bassist Sam Gethin-Jones dons a Millions t-shirt, whilst lead singer/guitarist Sean Caskey plugs both supports before announcing Time & Place to a room of contented sighs. Performing tunes from their debut LP, Last Dinosaurs engineer a sound so unique and infectious, propelling far beyond the conventional constraints of recent disco-rock releases. Not to mention that they're so damn likable. Caskey charms, asking the sold-out crowd, “So has anyone got the album yet?” before singing his favourite, Weekend. The standout Sunday Night makes for a peerless performance, seducing just about everyone to the dancefloor with its Spanish flavour and swivelling beat.

“The next song is a heavier song but like dancey-heavy you know what I mean?”  Following the “dancey-heavy” I Can't Help You is a cover of Modjo's Lady (Hear Me Tonight), turning the room into a disco. At this point, you'd be hard pressed to wipe the look of ecstasy off anyone's face. Zoom shreds the room with its euphoric and epic indie-dance layers, rousing their rampant (and somewhat delirious) fans. A stage-diver is carried through the closing song Honolulu as the crowd band together, cranking out each lyric with feverish intent. Unrivalled and fresh, Last Dinosaurs leave behind a sweaty and exalted crowd who opt not to surrender to the streets, but instead to linger in awe.