"These guys are pros."
It can be hard to get Sydneysiders to move their feet. That's not to say we don't turn up, or we're lazy, it's just that once we get to where we're going we just sort of sit there, sucking up the ambience, and wallowing in self-satisfaction as we look around and clock whoever else was clever enough to choose this spot, this cafe, this bar, this band. We're lounge lizards that love company. Dance-punk party animals Chk Chk Chk shimmied through Darlinghurst on Thursday and blew it all up with some weapons-grade funk, literally ringing the sweat out at the end of their set. We were sealed in a can, shaken up and shot-gunned. It was fun.
Rising stars Gauci opened up, their precoded rhythms lifted directly out of '80s new wave. Even though that particular trend feels dangerously overcooked, the group still found some nice details to toy with. Their vocals were rough but not without charm, which collided with the slick instrumentation for interesting results. David Gauci's emaciated guitar sound was particularly nice.
World Champion were an appropriate step forward, upping the tempo. Their bread and butter is vibrant guitar-driven synth pop, but where they really shone is when they dialled it back to settle into a steady Tropicana rhythm. Towards the end of their set, they found a deep groove to glide on with simple looping riffs and rocksteady kit work. Sublime.
Chk Chk Chk's Nic Offer is a mutant. In person, he's a schleppy white dude with a big smile and mess of hair. On stage, he's a force of nature, sweating it out in short shorts and wearing the same goddamn button-down shirt at every show. He writhed and bucked as his choreography got looser and looser, crawling, climbing, twerking, grinding, twisting and gurning his way through a strong set of volcanic funk. Air-tight arrangements built the pressure, and stellar vocals from the magnificent Lea Lea balanced out Offer's manic clowning. These guys are pros. We never stood a chance. It was good, clean, sweaty fun. Like, really fucking fun.
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