Live Review: Palms

When theMusic.com.au end-of-year writers poll gets sent out, it's going to be hard to nail down a better gig of the year than Palms and Black Zeros at the teeny tiny Gladstone Hotel. The gig space is quite clearly an old living room, complete with fireplace and huge, view-obstructing wall. Litres upon litres of beer were spilled, lost through the cracks of the floorboards. New friends were pressed awkwardly close together. Crowdsurfing felt as cramped as swimming in a hot tub. But here's the thing, friends: no fucks were given. The bands were a barrelling steam train of energy and the striking, graffitied 'Palms' on the stage wall, bathed in ambient, blue lighting and framed by an old, swinging lamp, frustratingly dangling in the musicians' faces, just oozed punk rock charm. If you weren't smiling at the end of the gig, you weren't there.

Black Zeros warmed up the packed house like few others can, with confidently eccentric banter and a turtle-necked drummer. Uptempo, Dune Rats-style pop-rock and beautiful, downtempo slow jams like the dreamy, romantic jangles of Ride took the crowd to a happier place. Do yourself a favour and go see them sometime.

Palms were a group in their natural habitat, sparking an infectious energy in the crowd that spread through the Gladstone quick-fast. Al Grigg's youthful, scratchy voice belted out constant bangers: Bad Apple was the energetic closer. "This track is why we're all here," Grigg said, before launching into the impassioned anthem. The sound was out-of-control loud and ears were surely ringing Friday morning — ringing with happy memories… and tinnitus. But mostly happy memories.