Live Review: Gay Paris, A Swayze & The Ghosts, Kickfish, The Trolls

Friday night in a bed of sin, up the almost endless staircase of the Liverpool Street venue, all were welcome for a night of the bizarre. Two shows happening simultaneously at the same venue seemed like a disaster and ended up a surprising success, like losing a fiver and finding a ten.

In the main room noise wankers and '90s film lovers A Swayze & The Ghosts opened, supporting Gay Paris on their Australian tour. A Swayze & The Ghosts mask a lack of technical competence with loud volume and frenetic energy.  The Hobart band do one thing particularly well — they enjoy themselves above all else, an attribute all the artists on tonight's billing share.

Meanwhile in the room next door a revival was taking place, bands Kickfish and The Trolls returned to the stage for a one night only reunion show. Nine years since they ended, they still brought crowd enough to pack the venue. Sublime in both performance and inspiration, the ska-rock party anthems of the yesteryear local acts were just as excellent, dynamic and intense as they were almost a decade before. Songs about Captain Planet, and being too lazy to tie your shoelaces were a complementary contrast in style and delivery to the neighbouring hard-rock artists. The jostling audience crowded around The Trolls shouting along to every word as the brass section belted out manic accompaniment to the sound of Hobart's early 2000s local college music scene.

As the sax-soaked mod music ebbed, headliners Gay Paris took to the stage — the devil's music never sounded so good. Hardcore rockers and beard aficionados Gay Paris bring the tone of the Louisianan swamp, soak it in whisky, set it on fire, and leave it for dead on the stage. Grubbily pawing at the leathers of Australian rock legends, they pull down unto themselves elements of Lobby Loyde, Lubricated Goat and Radio Birdman, and apply them ad hoc. 

Punchy music with a philosophical leaning, singer Adam Simpson is clearly as afraid of the grace of God as he is his own bald head and this takes prominence in the themes and lyrics of the Sydney band.

Straddling a member from the audience like he was half committed to a leap frog Simpson barks as if he has a dagger in his throat, the sounds of his screaming draw easy comparisons to Captain Beefheart and Birthday Party-era Nick Cave. 

Live, Gay Paris have drawn consistent comment for their energy on stage, but it's a different beast altogether to witness this in person. All members not suffering from being on a drum stool never stop moving. To take a still photograph of this band would require a fast lens and infinite patience.

"I want to thank the most subjectively, not objectively, subjectively most attractive people in this room, they're having fun and that tells you a lot, whether it's group sex or a rock'n'roll show," he says as he releases the guy up front from between his legs. Jumping down to the front, Simpson walks person to person, intimating sweet guttural nothings into their ears as the bassist Luke Monks spits his beer into the air.

Screwy dance moves, tight instrumentation and violent visceral vocal delivery are par for the course at a Gay Paris set and the thing that is perhaps most impressive about the band is that it wouldn't matter if it were a small turn out like tonight or a giant festival show — their destructive tendencies would let them shake it till the wheels fall off every single time.