Live Review: Luca Brasi, Headaches, Little Shadow

Snitch has brought some quality local supports in to warm the stage for our southern friends, with Little Shadow jamming out their no-bullshit punk to open the account for the evening. The five-piece seem genuinely stoked to be playing to a solid early crowd with plenty of wide-eyed smiles being shot between members. Lanky frontman Cam Gillard offers two sides, recalling recent happenings in his life with polite shyness before throttling the microphone in both hands to holler out his verses, while the guitar interplay is twisted and imperfect in the best possible way.

With a bunch of guys that have done time (or are still holding court) in bands like The Gifthorse and Army Of Champions, Headaches are unsurprisingly assured on stage and focused with the task at hand, the crowd stepping up their intensity in line with quicker tempos delivered by Joel their skinsman. There's no denying the presence of frontman Shane Collins as he spitfires lyrics towards a now fist-pumping front row, while by his side bassist Mackey offers solid chords and vocal assistance with nothing but commitment.

There's a few shooeys going down when Taswegians Luca Brasi introduce themselves to the tattooed Queensland congress, but thankfully people put their sneakers back over their filthy hobbit feet and turn their attentions to what's happening in front of them. Because seriously, you wouldn't have wanted to miss a second of this show. From the outset the band sound explosive – the lead guitar lines leap from the speakers and soar down the length of the room while Tyler Richardson's voice recalls the gruff delivery of Chuck Ragan or more recently Make Do And Mend's James Carroll. Plenty of curious looks are shot through the glass window from the street, passersby intrigued by the flailing bodies crashing towards the stage like waves, fans freaking out to anthemic singalongs such as Theme Song From HQ and Viva Tassie Cabrones.

Towards the end of the set, one eager punter grabs a mic and takes vocal leads for a brief period before the impassioned roar of Richardson pushes his off-key verses to the background (leave it to the pros, lad). But the pinnacle of the night has to come in the way of Southbound, with all five band members seemingly stepping up their playing as sweat pours down their skin like they are releasing every inch of energy inside themselves. If anything, tonight shows that you don't need to have any sort of manufactured style or agenda; as cliché as it may be, you simply need to believe in your craft and be yourself. The heart of Australian punk is beating with everything that it has.