SpiderbaitBrisbane lads Galapogos get things underway in an already densely packed Hi-Fi. The locals have all eyes on them as they work through their riveting ambient death-pop, managing to mesmerise even ardent fans of the headliner during their lengthy, complex jams. Their set is tight and is skewed towards their heavy stuff, bassist Benjiban Bohn just about ripping his strings to shreds throughout and Dan Newton commanding attention as the man with the mic. His dance shuffles and deadpan delivery are arresting, as is his intimidating frame as he picks up a guitar and thrashes it about like a toy.
Young local purveyors of guitar-laden blues-pop The Furrs find themselves navigating the tricky middle slot. Slick duo Jim Griffin and Gabriella Cohen, with their three-piece, turn the energy in the room back up with Money, Griffin rocking his mop-top as his wailing vocal rises above the jangly rock. Cohen purrs her way through low and slow single Get On Your Horse, which piques some curiosity as the closer, but their youthful banter and twangy licks fall a bit flat on the waiting, mostly older punters.
With a new-ish album to flog (last year’s self-titled release), there’s a chance Spiderbait could pull a swifty and keep their back catalogue guarded. But fans new and old know there’s not much chance of that; Kram, Janet English and Damian Whitty are here for larks as much as the now sold out capacity crowd is. The red curtain finally parts, and thankfully puts a close to the dreadful ’80s music the venue has deemed fit for tonight, and the room erupts as the trio give a quick wave and bust out Stare At The Sun.
Kram gives his sincere thanks and plunges into old hit Shazam! for an early punch in the chest, before English takes over vocal duties for Outta My Head and newbie It’s Beautiful. While the bearded kit-smasher is happy to accept proffered shoes, and bras from his throne, he gets evidently disgruntled at something going on in the backline during Tonight, moodily abandoning it after a restart. Whitty carries on as non-plussed as ever, and English is fascinating to watch – so much noise from a little lady who keeps a close eye on her players and never gives more than she needs to away. The band pumps out Buy Me A Pony, Fuckin’ Awesome, Old Man Sam and a cover of 99 Luftballons, but no Stevie, saving Calypso and Black Betty until the very last, after which every sweaty crowd member throws their arms up in appreciation for one of the proud flagbearers of Australia’s ’90s music heyday.
