Live Review: Hoodoo Gurus, You Am I, Jebediah, Adalita

When you go into the 25-year Venn diagram of this Fist Full Of Rock bill it makes even more sense. From Hoodoo Gurus giving a leg-up to the young You Am I, who in turn encouraged the nascent Jebediah and Magic Dirt. This was not so much a tour as a family reunion punctuated by gigs.

Adalita now fronts a rumbling rock band and one moment offered a curled-lip sneer, then a shy smile. That My Ego is one her centrepiece songs seemed almost counter-intuitive, but she remains the business. We all nodded and tried to be as cool as her, but failed miserably.

Conversely, Jebediah were Energizer Bunnies. As much as Kevin Mitchell is still frighteningly youthful, the band noise was richer rather than the adenoidal, punky whine it once was. She's Like A Comet is now a big pop song, Harpoon still a thing of odd longing. 

In the unaccustomed support band role, the wonders of You Am I were distilled into a tight hour: Junk, Good Mornin', Jewels And Bullets, Cathy's Clown. Tim Rogers quoted the banter from Cheap Trick's Live At Budokan album word-for-word before a thoroughly swinging run at Nielsen and co's I Want You To Want Me. There were sincere thanks to Hoodoo Gurus for chances given and to Sydney for being "the city that made us" before Berlin Chair was dispatched with a suitable amount of windmilling. Rusty Hopkinson showed he's still got one helluva bowling arm — he managed to hurl a drumstick into the upstairs section. 

How do you follow that? If you're Hoodoo Gurus, you just spool out one damn garage/trash/powerpop gem after another. The band opened with A Place In the Sun, slammed into Tojo's Darwin-levelling howl and then the surprising aside that Death Defying was actually Dave Faulkner addressing the AIDS crisis that was robbing him of friends. The bandleader remains respected, yet somehow still that bit underrated both as songwriter and singer. Songs of comedy, then pathos, sentimental romance and even some trashy rooting in the afternoon (yes, Miss Freelove '69 is pretty much what we thought it was about).

The band shone during their oldest song: Leilani's tropic thunder built on the now-permanently returned Mark Kingsmill's jungle drums while Brad Shepherd twirled and unfurled the guitar histrionics. We all knew when to "Umgawah!" when called upon. Come Anytime, Axegrinder and the ache of 1000 Miles Away were still there. As was the tragi-comic whirl of I Was A Kamikaze Pilot — these are little masterpieces played by a band still tight-as. Faulkner was also aware of where he was: "Thank you, Sydney — we're from here." And this crowd was bloody happy to claim them.