Live Review: Yeasayer & Montero

Melbourne supergroup of sorts, Montero, begin their set slowly; the crowd seems half puzzled, half intrigued by frontman Bjenny Montero's glitter-covered face, hair and clothing, but soon enough warm to the band's glam/psychedelic/prog/soft-rock/pop ballads. Once you get past Montero's weirdness (yoga/interpretive dance moves, waving around a paintbrush like the air is a canvas), it's a lot easier to lose yourself in falsetto harmonies, Cameron Potts' gleeful, animalistic drumming, the wash of romantic synths and the theatrical, almost two- or three-act structure of their songs.

Performing a very satisfying combination of arguably their strongest songs from all three of their albums, Yeasayer take the most danceable aspects of their world-psych-pop and amp them up to suit a live setting. The dreamier, more introspective moments of the recorded versions of songs are still there, but just altered; bass is intensified, the band go heavy on the percussion (live and electronic), samples are rearranged, intoxicating three-part harmonies are nailed and it's difficult to tell who is having more fun – the band or the audience.

Drummer Cale Parks may be a bit hidden up the back but his contribution is consistently palpable and demanding, as is bassist Ira Wolf Tuton's masterful four-string fingering (particularly impressive is that high riff in Ambling Alp where he's working speedily at frets on the bass's body). Anand Wilder shines during the pronounced guitar riffs and solos (ONE, Madder Red). The star of the stage, however, is synth/sampleboard man Chris Keating, with his jittering legs, flirtation with the mic stand, intermittent slaps of Parks' cymbals and an array of moves (hand on hip, limp wrist, reaching to the sky and sassy shake of the index finger). Keating's teasing pushes of his pads preceding songs becomes a guessing game: Which Song's That Sound From?

Hold-your-breath moments during what is essentially a collection of crowd favourites include the outro in Henrietta; the verbal punch of the “yeah, yeah” chant-like bridge in 2080; the lurch into Longevity's chorus; the opening chords of ONE, then its disco breakdown and the crowd singing a hushed and almost reverent extended pre-chorus sans band vocals (“Hold me like before, hold me like you used to”) – look, just all of it, as well as its sneaky transition into Madder Red.

A well thought out setlist, impeccable musicianship, arresting stage presence and genuine joy emanating from the band make for a very happy bunch of punters indeed.