Live Review: The Black Keys, Royal Headache

It's a shame the BEC isn't even at quarter capacity when Sydney's Royal Headache meander on stage. Judging by their simple set up – no risers, no lights – and their no-fuss blue-collar get up, it's pretty evident they don't really care. Making pocket-rocket old-school organic punk is the foursome's bag, coming a long way in a short time from Sydney's underground to sold-out arena spectaculars like tonight. The lads unleash Girls, frontman Shogun seeming a tad caged as he stalks either end of the stage, then belting out Really In Love and Psychotic Episode with his rough-around-the-edges but pleasing vocals. He plays the part well, shoving his mic into the amp to slap the unsuspecting in the face with jarring feedback. Cheeky digs at Melbourne make newbie Garbage one to keep an ear out for, and the familiar punk brusqueness of Pity closes the set. It's tight, it's playful, surprisingly melodic and it's easy to gush – Royal Headache are one of the most exciting bands to arrive on the scene in years.

The Black Keys announce their arrival via the silhouetted figures of Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney before stepping on stage. Auerbach gives Brisbane a shout out before plunging into Howlin' For You. Some initial reserve hovers around the sound being too stripped back or overshooting the mark completely to nail the BEC's tricky acoustics, but Auerbach's dirty guitar line and cutting croon sit pretty nice beside the others. Ungainly as always, Carney ditches the specs for Run Right Back and fists get pumping as they step back to Same Old Things. Dead And Gone is a highlight but Gold On The Ceiling is slightly messy. The conversation is dry but no one seems overly bothered. The support musos depart and the duo reach back to their 2003 debut to deliver Thickfreakness. They give so much with so little, Carney watching Auerbach like a hawk as he busts out bluesy guitar wails and jumps onto the speakers. Your Touch and Strange Times are sublime, as is Little Black Submarines in acoustic glory. Lonely Boy closes the set and it's suitably loud and fun but not tediously drawn out. Everlasting Light is the first of the encores and it's armed with two giant disco balls, making for a breathtaking display. I Got Mine is the finale and it's made all the more memorable for the giant lit-up namesake sign now haloing the group, flickering in time with the raucous, bluesy garage rock. The sleuth twosome leave a grateful crowd in their wake, reinforcing the ideal that a guitar, some drums and a pretty good voice can achieve amazing things.