Live Review: Cloud Nothings, Bugs, Electric Zebra

Balmy Brisbane summer Tuesday nights aren't usually the most conducive settings for immersive rock'n'roll gatherings. Nonetheless, a solid crowd turns out and snatches up vantage points to kick things off early with local four-piece Electric Zebra.

The youngsters lead with a swift punch in the form of robust new single Serpico, the song's grittily melodic core draped with plenty of harmonies over the abundant hooks. These guys seem to have been raised on a steady diet of '90s indie and alt-rock, their guitars often veering into big-riffage grunge territory while the astute use of the quiet/loud dynamic returns them deftly to more restrained and intricate terrains, tracks like Ambition and Rum Ham showcasing a stirring duality. They finish a strong set with the rousing I Blink, setting the bar high for the acts to follow.

Fortunately, fellow locals Bugs are more than up to the task. The trio's catchy brand of upbeat irreverence hits the mark from the get-go, feel-good opener When I Know betraying their template of fuzzed-out, punk-tinged bangers delivered with a knowing glint in the eye. Frontman Connor Brooker brings the swagger and seems to be having the most fun in the room as they burst through Hoodoo Gurus NRL revamp That's My Team, his obvious enjoyment proving infectious and lifting the room's mood visibly. Fuzz-laden song structures burst into catchy choruses with disarming regularity, the hints of vulnerability that peer around the edges of the tunes like Stutter and Best Friend bashed into subservience by the unabashed pop-punk abandon of siblings like Tinnies and set closer Neighbourhood. These guys have been flying under the radar to a degree, but their effortless feel-good vibe should deliver a breakthrough moment sooner rather than later.

Having been laid down the gauntlet by the local contingent, Cleveland quartet Cloud Nothings step up to the plate and prove immediately unawed, the rousing rallying cry of Now Hear In whipping up the crowd from its opening salvo.

After kicking life off as a trio, it's hard to imagine them now without the guitars of frontman Dylan Baldi and lead axeman Chris Brown interweaving and playing off each other throughout tunes like Stay Useless and the propulsive Psychic Trauma, their chemistry now imperative to the band's considerable charm. The rhythm section more than carry their weight as well, drummer Jayson Gerycz pounding his kit tirelessly as if piston-driven while stoic bassist TJ Duke drives the rumbling bottom end, but it's Baldi's jaded worldview that dominates the vistas painted in numbers like Pattern Walks and the anguished Realize My Fate (his howls of "I believe in something bigger/But what I can't articulate" perfectly encapsulating the crippling confusion of modern malaise).

There's a powerful pop heart beating within crowd fave I'm Not Part Of Me and the delighted throng up front cut loose accordingly while the band remain nonchalantly disaffected before them, their demeanour betraying none of the angst coursing like lifeblood through their music. But at their best Cloud Nothings are nothing if not anthemic, the melodic melancholy of recent single Modern Act inciting another burst of excitement in the crowd, before the noise-rock mayhem of Wasted Days brings things home in a huge maelstrom of perfectly restrained excess: spiralling guitars build into a wild cacophony, stretching and sprawling into a brilliantly propulsive jam riding atop a killer groove, a flawless culmination of all that's come before and the perfect finale to an excellent rock'n'roll evening. Perhaps Tuesdays are the new Thursdays, bring it on.