Live Review: Clairy Browne & The Bangin' Rackettes

Front to back this show was full of energy, flair and toe-tapping goodness. It started off with the two-piece Chris Russell's Chicken Walk made up of the lightning bolt Russell on guitar and vocals and Dean Muller on drums playing “a bunch of songs about girls”. Their sound was rock'n'roll mixed with the dirty blues of the Mississippi Delta and Russell's screaming vocals were pitch perfect and gritty on tracks like Somebody (Call The Po Po) and set highlight the sexy Bad Motherfucker.

Soul revivalists The Bangin' Rackettes made a staggered entrance – the band followed by the three integral Rackette back-up singers and finally Clairy Browne herself, tasselled and bejewelled in a corseted leotard. Together they were jazzy, sensual and smoldering. They put on a show replete with choreographed dance moves and harmonies from the Rackettes and complex, polished solos, especially from baritone saxophonist Darcy McNulty. Most importantly, they became more than the show - they were personable and real - and Browne's vocals were breathtakingly powerful and husky.

They played Walk Of Shame, a ballad for the morning after, before a quirky dance interlude where Browne left the stage and her Rackettes served up some classic moves.

Perhaps a tribute to obvious inspiration the late Amy Winehouse, Browne gave an emotional yet fierce warning about fame and the media. “Be gentle with their stories and gentle with their exposure… so we don't kill our idols. Got it Sydney?” she cried before launching into Vicious Cycle.

Browne implored the crowd to dance and they responded, with hands clapping in the air all the way to the back, and with a rollicking cover of Salt N Pepa's Whatta Man and the promise that'd they'd be up the back after the show signing boobs, the collective sashayed off.

Clairy Browne & The Bangin' Rackettes came with a whole heap of punch. Nostalgic yet squarely planted in the 21^st century, these kids really do bring more smooth and original bang for your buck.