Live Review: Beach Slang, Spring King

After a whirlwind week of Splendour In The Grass sideshows, it seems the Splendour hangover is in full force at tonight's Beach Slang and Spring King double header at the Corner Hotel. The usually jostling room is quieter, and the punters significantly more sedate.

Manchester four-piece Spring King have their work cut out for them trying to wake up the sleepy punters. Having released one of 2015's most exciting EPs in They're Coming After You, they breeze easily from jangly indie-pop to garage-punk. City is spectacularly catchy, and They're Coming After You with its slow build and earworm chorus is a winner. Vocalist/drummer Tarek Musa bemoans the bitter Melbourne cold, which must have an extra sting considering the UK are experiencing a heatwave. It's a brilliant set, wrapped up with a guitar charging into the audience. Hopefully by the time Spring King return to Melbourne, the crowds will be livelier.

"We're Beach Slang and we're here to punch you in the fucking heart," declares Beach Slang's James Alex, dressed in what appears to be his finest '70s prom attire. As far as mission statements go, it is a lofty one, but it isn't long until aforementioned heart punch is felt. Beach Slang's songs may sound like the last hot day of summer, but lyrically they sting. Filthy Luck is biting, and Dirty Cigarettes drips with self-loathing.

It's not all misery however, with the crowd beginning to chant "Shoey! Shoey!" A nearby punter comments "If you drink it fast enough there's no shoe taste, especially if they're new," as their drummer gamely necks a beer out of a proffered shoe. From this point onwards the crowd seems to liven up, and beers occasionally fly through the air. Noisy Heaven from 2015's The Things We Do To Find People Who Feel Like Us is bathed in urgency and longing. Alex quips if "Marc Nolan, Brian Jones, and Harry Potter had a baby it would look like me", and he isn't wrong.

The second half of the set is a loose jam of expertly well picked covers. From The Replacements' The Ledge (complete with an excellent solo by guitarist Ruben Gallego), to Dramarama's Anything, Anything, the band shift gears and turn the show on its head. A smaller audience allows the band to really interact, they make the most of the format and happily take requests. American Girls And French Kisses sees another wave of beer showering down, as a lively group of punters dance with a scarf in the middle of the floor.

Somewhat awkwardly, after the band has done their farewells and the house music begins to play, Alex appears back on stage a little crestfallen to see that a good number of attendees have made a dash for the last train. Those who remain behind are treated to a thank you, as delivered in the form of a three-part harmony, as well as a cracking rendition of All Fuzzed Out.

Though criminally under-attended, both Spring King and Beach Slang stamped their mark as new, exciting, and viciously talented ones to watch.