Live Review: Rat & Co, Speed Painters

The moody mystique exuded by Two Bright Lakes outfit Speed Painters suits Shebeen Bar's dark setting; its warehouse-style outfitting maintaining the aesthetic of dinginess. With an unusual number of musicians on stage for an electronic group, the foursome peddle unaggressive but noisy techno beats and otherworldly synths. This informs a prickling, tactile brand of pulsating electronica, carried off with a simultaneously cool and dramatic air. Their set is accompanied by fuzzy, block-coloured visuals, which together with the trumpet poised at the lips of horns player Oscar O'Bryan, convey a vintage-tinged quality. The standoffish crowd respond with a tentative dance, but nothing too committed.

The quiet hype surrounding Rat & Co comes to the fore when the Melbourne four-piece take to the stage. Crammed onlookers push their way towards the front of the room, which has filled up now and sold out. Armed with a constant buzzing that underpins the entirety of their set, the band release an all-encompassing ambience, fusing subtle grooves with rhythmic drum patterns. This is enhanced by gentle, cartoonish visuals, comprised predominantly of geometric shapes for the pleasure of hip onlookers. Their unique take on subdued post-rock, which combines chill electro vibes with jangly guitar tones, induces a detached appreciation from fans, with some mild swaying and even a few rave hands spotted up front.

The loudness from Rat & Co's textured stylings dominates, and it's difficult to hear them thanking the audience or pick individual songs from their fluid soundscape of washed-out guitars. This is especially the case given their propensity for instrumental music, save for some subdued, blended vocals. More fluid, psych-influenced numbers in the vein of 8 Bit Death can be detected, as well as the clearer Forget Never Forget, with its excellently morose execution of dark choral harmonies. However, in live mode their songs don't equal the distinctness of the band's recorded material. The middle segment of their set begins to feel samey, recalling the repetitiveness of much electronic music without any redeeming, danceable elements.

A bizarre mass exodus three-quarters through the set frees up the room for more dedicated punters. This is particularly strange given we're yet to hear the night's honorary launch song. When it does arrive, exploratory new single Vocal Insanity really showcases the band's penchant for engrossing, subtle spookiness. This taster from their sophmore album certainly reveals what Rat & Co are capable of and should build up much intrigue for the new record.