Live Review: Ball Park Music, Eagle & The Worm, Jeremy Neale

Pop with a grunge edge kicked off the final date on the Thanks Ewes Tour, as Brisbane indie pop frontman Jeremy Neale put his vocal cords to the test. Every time Neale pushed his smooth melodic voice to an aggressive, scream-like yell, he commanded more attention from the room.

The Fat Wreck sticker plastered front and centre on Richard Bradbeer's bass was the first clue in figuring out Eagle & The Worm's origins. With a horn section supplying a ska vibe and the rest of the band throwing in elements of pop and rock, it's a difficult task to describe their sound. Whatever category they fall under, they do it loud and well. A five-part harmony to finish out their set left audience members in silent awe.

No sooner had Ball Park Music surfaced amidst a medley of '80s pop classics than people ties their shoes, secured the contents of their pockets and erupted into a dancing fit. iFly saw frontman Sam Cromack discard his guitar and run in circles around the stage, throwing his microphone frantically between hands whilst rolling out every hand gesture known to man. Without a guitar to anchor him down, Cromack has the charisma and energy that few other frontmen possess.

Halfway into their set, a bra made its way onto the stage. After a brief discussion on Cromack's “tiny hairy nipples”, the rest of the band vacated the stage leaving the vocalist in front of a keyboard and under the spotlight for Coming Down. While the intimate performance was a good way to break up the set, it would have greatly benefited from bassist Jennifer Boyce's harmonies.

Despite the serious nature of the few songs that followed, more underwear was tossed onstage. It was clear the audience wanted more party tunes, and that's exactly what was delivered in the form of Sad Rude Future Dude and Literally Baby.

The Next Life Already, “a fun but a bit depressing” new song, revealed they've got plenty of hits left up their collective sleeve, and old fans were treated to a one-off performance (or so they said) of Sea Strangers.

It was the upbeat, keys-driven songs that were the real dance numbers, and after a concise encore that ended with The Beatles' Eight Days A Week, there was not a Fence Sitter in sight.