Live Review: Release The Bats

The Palais staff look bemused. Racing inside the theatre, it's immediately obvious The Twerps finished early. So it's back out into the foyer. An usher informs, “You can bring any drinks back in with you except alcohol.” There are different coloured wristbands that determine where one can sit, which makes it difficult to hang with your homies.

The theatre is well populated for Pop Crimes: The Songs Of Rowland S Howard. Conrad Standish opens, singing The King Of Kalifornia backed by original These Immortal Souls members Genevieve McGuckin, Harry Howard and Craig Williamson plus JP Shilo (who not only admirably channels Rowland S Howard's distinctive guitar wail but has also somehow magically transformed to resemble his late, great idol today). When it's his turn to take the mic, Mick Harvey requests that “the lighting person” keep the lyric sheet on his music stand illuminated, confessing “I don't know the words” to So The Story Goes. The first half of this tribute set is devoted to These Immortal Souls material, the latter, songs from Rowland S Howard's solo albums. A particularly moving rendition transpires when Shilo tries on Crowned to spectacular effect. During the second half, Brian Hooper's bass is breathtaking and Jonnine Standish demonstrates her formidable stage presence. This perfect means for performing Howard's legacy live needs to evolve way beyond a one-off.

The Halloween dress-up theme associated with Release The Bats is a flop. The only evidence being a few cobwebs stretched across Palais Theatre's bars, a couple of random jack o'lanterns and flashing white skulls placed on the theatre box barriers plus a handful of punters wearing creative makeup.

Back inside the theatre, cheers punctuate Television's “live sound check”. The band play Marquee Moon, but not in tracklisted order. A disgruntled member of the stalls yells out, “They won't let us dance!” – a cross between a town crier and a snitch. Frontman Tom Verlaine points out that a guy in the stalls obviously arrived late because he keeps calling out for songs they've already played. Television play with spontaneity, but they are pedantic about tuning their instruments in between songs and the peanut gallery get restless: “Tell a story!” All musicians onstage kick serious ass, but particularly drummer Billy Ficca. Experiencing Television's extended live version of Marquee Moon's title track alone makes attending this event worthwhile.

Time to catch the tram up (two stops) to clap eyes on Pricasso in action at The Prince. He's just starting one of his portraits and, as well as his “special brushes”, the artist also utilises his bare buttocks to smudge out the paint that will become the face shape. Prince Rama (standing in for Forest Swords, who cancelled yesterday “due to unforeseen health issues”) provide the sounds onstage and it's immediately clear this duo are more about the party than technique, which is hard to appreciate after Television's virtuosity.

After a quick meal break (the only onsite eating options being sandwiches or crisps), it's back to Palais Theatre for Fuck Buttons. Who knew some of those sounds originated from the human voice? It's penetratingly loud, but also penetratingly awesome. You can also tell these boys would be guns in the sack, Benjamin Power and Andrew Hung soundtrack the sex of your wildest fantasies. Fuck Buttons' manipulated live visuals are next level. Scattered people dance in the stalls, but when the houselights go up amidst generous applause not enough people in the upper sections chose to watch this startling band own it this evening.

The foyer is packed as audience members fuel up before our final ATP treat. After discovering his friend didn't make it into the theatre for FB, an old timer extols, “You should've seen the lighting show!” As the warning bell chimes for the last time, people quickly scull drinks. A dude gestures toward half-full wine glasses and points out to his companion: “What's that, 20 bucks? And it's The Breeders, man!” They plonk the booze on a baluster and bolt up the stairs. Unexpectedly, the band play a cover before their advertised Last Splash album is delivered in full, tracklisted order. The megawattage of Kim Deal's smile beams right up to the pink (upper circle) section. “Did you guys just get back from Sleep? Yah! They were heavy,” she shares, referring to the trio that closed The Prince stage this evening. The whole floor section is standing and rocking out, so it's frustrating to be in the silver section where dancing is deemed a safety hazard. Lots of jobsworths keep everything 'as per regulation', to a ridiculous degree, which is comical later on when Deal delivers the sentiment that closes side one of the album: “I just wanna get along.” Jim Macpherson's powerful drumming drowns out Josephine Wiggs' tambourine and Kelley Deal's self-confessed shyness is beyond endearing. The feel the Deals have for their axes is not often seen these days – it's the substance that seals The Breeders' sound. Alternating guitar riff with the same melody plucked on violin during Drivin' On 9 is a whisper of reassurance to our souls.

Wristbanded festivalgoers score a free ride at Luna Park, so a decision is made to cash this in. After managing to squeeze onto the last hoon around The Scenic Railway, a bruised elbow is secured by way of souvenir.