Live Review: Eddy Current Suppression Ring, King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard, JP Shilo

The British band Savages withdrew "due to unforeseen circumstances" less than a week out from their sold out tour, but sometimes when one door closes another opens and the three homegrown replacements create a line-up so good that while full refunds were available through the festival, the show remained sold out.

Tonight at the Odeon multi-instrumentalist JP Shilo is joined by a bass player and drummer for an uncharacteristic rock-heavy set. Shilo utilises his guitar instead of violin and the band winds up through slow thrums of bass that build to an ominous crescendo as soon as the doors open and Shilo begins to sing. With a dark gritty murderous tone to his voice JP Shilo sings like hackles in blood, dark uncoiling lyrics that plead and pleasure like the murder ballads of a brooding Nick Cave. Shilo places a skewer through the strings of his guitar like a poor man's capo — "I need this for this one, this is 'skewera obscura' - this one is called Kid King Kong" — as the band tease out a fantastic finale with the repetitive, nonsense rock song. The quickly filling crowd press themselves eagerly to the barrier of the stage.

"Don't let the fuckers get you down," was the cry to fans from Dark Mofo's Creative Director Leigh Carmichael in response to Savages cancellation of their Australian tour. This statement felt prophetic as the night's line-up shifted up a gear with the unwieldy and upbeat ensemble of King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard. The wigged out psychedelic jam band from Melbourne have made Dark Mofo the first stop of their Nonagon Infinity tour and the young all-male rock band kick things off in style. Long hair and lengthy guitar solos melt beautifully together, bouncing between the percussion of their two (full-kit) drummers, Michael Cavanagh and Eric Moore. For a band with so many members (keys, harmonica, two guitars, bass, two drummers and flute) they create remarkably sparse and bright jangly arrangements with buzzing fuzzed out riffs. When singer Stu Mackenzie bends over double, his long hair touching the stage, flicking his tongue like a lizard to the crowd as his guitar sings mid-solo and the swirl of instruments surround the hall — they prove every bit the fitting replacement to Savages. A true jam band doesn't need to end their songs but cleverly transitions them, something these boys do with great aplomb. As the band retreads a path beaten in by jam groups like The Grateful Dead and Blind Faith they manage to make the whole experience feel authentic and youthful rather than tired and rehashed.

Legs twitching frantically, singer Brendan Huntley of Eddy Current Suppression Ring's movements were as hungry as a dry fire. Five years ago the elusive Australian rock band declared a hiatus, and for the most part have kept out of the live scene. Here tonight, fans could barely contain themselves during the sets of the other acts, waiting hungrily for the chance to dance, a feeling the band returned in kind by playing like they had something to prove. As Huntley bounces like a wild animal, the four-piece band keep tight together on the large megachurch stage, a stark contrast to the expansive line-up of King Gizzard. Keyboardist Michael David Young balances his instrument haphazardly on a road case in place a stand. Fans make the effort to show their love or just flex their ego taking to the stage to climb up and dance until one girl trips and catches the precarious keyboard with her face. For their part the band seems neither concerned or encouraging — intently focused on their signature economy of sound — the stage invaders are ignored and the girl is gently escorted away by black-clad stagehands. When you are young and reckless and all you want to do is throw your body into convulsions and launch yourself into a sea of limbs there are few better Australian acts to do this too than Melbourne boys, Eddy Current Suppression Ring. Grabbing a second microphone Huntley darts between each member of his band, comically pushing them into their ears, grappling and shadow boxing them as the garage band pummels through with breakneck energy.

"I switch on, I switch off," he chants again and again to the crowd before launching himself into the whipping arms of a thirsting audience. Judging by the exhausted smiles and wild, adrenalin-soaked eyes of people funnelling outside the crowd won't let the fuckers get them down.