Holy Fuck fucking rule.
Sydney doom-lounge/synth-drone/coldwave/whatever duo Seating Plan played a short strange set that could have been mistaken for their first-ever. They seemed nervous and disorganised, surprised at what their equipment was doing (that is to say, not what they intended it to do, all of the time) and their cold sound faded into the background noise. They didn't make their mark.
Next was a disappointing follow-up from Buzz Kull, another Sydney duo. After fucking around with setting up for far too long, they rewarded our patience with a boring mess of turgid, droning, synth-driven post-punk that was so painfully art-school-dropout it was embarrassing.
Another (not very) brief set-up brought us to 11pm, and the club magically transported us to another gig entirely, to be entertained by wildly inventive and incredibly danceable Canadian imports Holy Fuck. The quartet kicked out the (motherfuckin') jams for the best part of an hour, and the tight-packed, low-ceilinged room felt perfect for their high impact, compressed dance punk. It's hard to pinpoint where they go so right. Matt Schultz was on point with his drumming (to play high speed electronic dance music without electronics is no mean feat), Punchy McQuaid's bass was clean and the riffs were super snappy, and Brian Borcherdt was Brian Borcherdt, flailing away with his various toys and screeching at the mic.
You get the feeling they would never get tired of playing this kind of music. Each piece contains enough textural diversity and sweaty propulsion to keep them fired up, and the room for interpretation and improv is large. It was a dance gig, for sure, but so much more human than a group of button-pushers. Holy Fuck fucking rule.