Live Review: Regurgitator, Jeremy Neale, Gregor

Gregor kick off the proceedings with the energy of a depressed wedding band, but their delicate B-52's meets Joy Division sound is morosely infectious. Their ambient tones are incredibly tight, and what they lack in energy they more than make up for in their sound.

As Jeremy Neale starts to mumble something about rocking, his ferociously misplaced energy becomes evident. Neale tries to somehow be awkward and arrogant all at the same time, and the resulting hodgepodge turns instantly unsavoury. Neale's band is on fire, but as the Queensland singer belts wildly over them, their saving prowess is sadly drowned out.

Regurgitator. The Gurge. Those brazen-faced Brisbanites with a penchant for the lyrically unclean. Oh, how you have been missed. Exploding onto the stage in matching tiger-print dinner jackets, the trio blast straight into I Sucked A Lot Of Cock To Get Where I Am, to the absolute delight of the fans. "They've got a good pace, this crowd," quips guitarist Quan Yeomans, "they're not peaking too soon." Bassist Ben Ely responds, "I think we're about to hit the sharp edge of the ramp, Quan," and the opening chords of I Will Lick Your Arsehole sets the crowd ablaze. After a slightly too passionate punter is ejected for violent dancing, Ely shows his softer side to comfort an injured bystander. "The bleeding girl says to keep dancing!" he eventually exclaims, and the synth-pop nostalgia burst of Polyester Girl kicks into gear.

Constant throwback waves and '90s memories awash the frenzied audience. Essences of Beastie Boys, Rage Against The Machine, TISM, are all flying through the show - it's hard to keep up with the older folks who were really there. This is the true testament to a Regurgitator gig: it's a call back to a time of Rage countdowns and Recovery, without the stench of a desperately lost youth.

My Friend Robot and Blubber Boy are phenomenal back-to-backers, with drummer Peter Kostic in the form of his career. Watching Kostic, headphone clad and jamming to the pre-recorded synths, is a brilliant display of technicality. All three are as exuberant and delightful as they were 20 years ago - It's never been totally clear exactly what they had to begin with, but it sure as hell hasn't gone anywhere.

A massive encore sets the crowd jumping around more than House Of Pain on one-track repeat. As ! (The Song Formerly Known As) reverberates into the night, everyone has well and truly partied like it's 1999.