Openers Tux specialise in darkened, proggy jams — think mid-era Deftones meets A Perfect Circle with an added fondness for complex guitar noodling and dynamic bass fretwork.
During their first few songs, frontwoman Raschelle Meyer appears nervous as her voice struggles to rise above the jaunty, chaotic rhythms of her bandmates and an overzealous familial cheerleader shouting well-intentioned but out-of-time encouragement probably doesn’t help. But by the end of the set, Meyer brims with confidence, owning the stage with bouncy gesticulations as her striking voice soars far above the instrumentalists.
While Meyer’s movements are jaunty, Jordy Jeffrey-Bailey’s are explosive. The Myyth frontman towers over his bandmates as the math-prog quartet powers through one frenetic song after another. Though his speaking voice between songs is unassuming, his singing voice bellows with the might and fury of an enraged prison warden over complicated and shifting rhythms that recall Karnivool and Coheed & Cambria. The stage proves too confining as he spends much of the final two songs in the crowd, somehow busting his hand open during the offstage carnage. When a frontman is this magnetic, it’s impossible to look away.
Kettlespider are a compelling and intricate group of musicians, melding post-rock mood with amazing musicianship. Or at least that’s the case for the first few minutes, but after two songs the shtick wears thin. There are interesting moments in songs like Evolution, but they’re lost in a sea of Dream Theater worship and progressive rock clichés. It’s hard to take someone with a six-string bass seriously, especially when their banter between songs is palpably awkward. The quintet pursues instrumental prowess at the expense of songwriting, and while that might work on record, it makes for a boring live show, leaving half of the crowd looking disinterested less than halfway through the set. Though Kettlespider’s technical ability is undeniable, their maximalist tendencies are proof of the axiom less is more.
Whereas fellow Bird’s Robe signees Tangled Thoughts Of Leaving, with whom they’d recently toured Europe, and sleepmakeswaves imbue their songs with complex rhythm changes and monumental peaks and valleys, Solkyri’s sound marries post-rock sensibilities with a relentless punk rock spirit, which makes for a captivating performance. The quartet moves through motifs with a nervous urgency as each song transforms into something entirely different every few bars. Even their more “twinkly” material like Yes, I’m Breathing, bursts with energy when rendered live in the tight confines of The Workers Club. Towards the end of the set, bassist Andrew Pearsall inadvertently takes the punk rock spirit a little too far, knocking a mirror ball from the ceiling and shattering it in front of the stage. He busts open his hand on the second last song, smearing blood over his guitar before a rousing rendition of I Felt Unsafe, I Felt At Home. Though the turnout was disappointing at around 30 heads, Solkyri’s show is proof enough that the Sydney quartet are well on their way to becoming one of the most exciting instrumental bands in the country.
