Live Review: Melvins, Helmets, Six Ft Hick

Local lads SixFtHick are the first of the night, and they are quick to energise the room with their fiery brand of hypo rock. As golden memories of Market Days long passed become revived, few in the crowd seem strangers to this busy display. For a night that is remarkably steeped with a '90s aura, these Brisbane mainstays make a fitting commencement.
The characteristic chuck and slug of Helmet is one that has warranted little attention in the post-Aftertaste haze. However, these NYC heavyweights are here to show their live spirit hasn't wandered too far from its once fertile source. Frontman Page Hamilton, the sole remaining member from their glory days, holds a strong presence as he steers his three fresher brethren from stage right. They seem as near-mechanically tight as ever, and their immensely solid sound maintains the attention through both new and old. By the time the impassioned cries of In The Meantime ring out loud, the cadaver is well revived.
The years have seen the Melvins frequently come and go – a slew of supports, festivals, and the myth-making secret performance of seminal album Houdini at The Annandale in 2009 – but not since the days of Alive At The Fucker Club (1997) has Australia been privileged to a round of full-length sets by these rock luminaries. So it comes as no surprise that The Hi-Fi is packed to the rafters by the time they're due. A dramatic opening sees the curtains part after the dual-drumming onslaught of Dale Crover and Coady Willis bombastically crashes a Sabbath Sweat Leaf intro. The drumming mania is downright infectious and sends the crowd hurtling into fits of frenzy as Houdini classic Hag Me is rolled out. The infamous silver afro of Buzz Osbourne animatedly rocks about as he vibrantly bounces off the mighty foundations of bass laid by the turbin-clad Jared Warren. As they smash through Sweet Willy Rollbar and a selection of more recent material, which sees a cover of Wiper's Youth Of America thrown into the mix, there's never any sign of letting up from either the band or the manic pit of punters. Simply outrageous for a band going on 30 years! The Water Glass and Evil New War God build the room to a jovial peak, and finally the doom-laden monolith of Lysol winds it all down, with the drummers finally left alone to trade off percussive licks and gradually bring the set to a slow, victorious close. It's been excruciating, but the flurry of Cheshire grins at the end says it all – damn well worth the wait!