"A little lacklustre... Tings regales the audience with track after track of boppy, tropical electro."
The Mercat packs out into a swaying, jostling mass as Roland Tings takes the stage after the briefest of interludes. The Melbourne-based producer begins with little ceremony and subdued, jerky beats that promise a slow and subtle build. Launching his self-titled album, having that album featured on triple j and fresh from supporting Chet Faker on a national tour, it’s unsurprising that the gig has sold out. The crowd is unfortunately heavily weighted to the douchey jock kind of guy who struggles to string two sentences together or respect personal space. There is even one guy present who’s dressed in a business suit! They’re also the kind of people who would probably dance to a metronome for three hours. It is amusing to watch said dudes trying to pick up some outnumbered females, however. Blank stares and the occasional, “Get fucked, creep!” provide endless entertainment.
This venue’s bar, entrance and toilet are all somehow located either side of a two-person-wide thoroughfare. This more than anything makes you a small part of the swaying mass whether you like it or not. It’s kind of fun at the start, but after about 45 minutes of constantly getting bumped the novelty wears thin. Beers are ordered at the bar through what only can be described as a slit. The smoke machine is used liberally, as well as the strobe, and once you manage to carve out a bit of space, the place is dark, dingy and glorious. Tings regales the audience with track after track of boppy, tropical electro. The music ebbs and flows and tracks such as Pala, Coming Up For Air (and, indeed, most of the tracks on the album) stand out as truly special. Nevertheless, this gig feels a little lacklustre. This is not to say that Tings is not talented at what he does, his music is just for those who want to go to a dark, sweaty room, close their eyes and bop for a couple of hours. If you want to go there to dance, however, you end up wishing that the tunes were about ten to 20 bpm faster and there were some more fucking space.