Live Review: Taking Berlin, Whales, Cicada, Eddie Boyd & The Phatapillars

It's a tiny stage upstairs at Brighton Up Bar but last night it was about as jam-packed as it gets. However, it was a gradual process.

First up were Eddie Boyd & The Phatapillars. When The Music burst in to catch the end of their set it was Eddie Boyd and just one Phatapillar, Andy Nielsen. The dreadlocked Boyd has a gravelly cry perfect for a bitter love song – “I bet she'll give you no love in the evening”. He wailed and strummed as Nielsen tapped away on the lovingly dubbed Phatacajon. It was howling, rootsy blues rock in an intimate acoustic style.

Sticking with the insect theme, Cicada also came with a powerful voice courtesy of frontman Daniel Kelly, although that was where the similarities ended. The three-piece, as the name implies, are loud as hell. But not only that, they're incredibly tight. They play heavy rock – think Nirvana, The Vines at their heaviest – with super impressive technical skill, enthusiasm and camaraderie. Bassist Steve Palmier bounced around the tiny stage and Daniel Kelly let forth a couple of blistering solos during songs like Down and their cover of Silverchair's Freak.

Whales were deceptive in appearance. For all the beards and tatts and nice hair between the four of them, they're a lot more punk than indie. Made up of members from other local rock groups Sex In Columbia, Best Kept Secret and Swine, this was only their second gig and they delivered a solid set with catchy guitar hooks and a whole lot of joy.

Taking Berlin barely fitted on the stage with three guitars, keys and a drum kit (the bands got bigger as the night went on), but their stage presence was mostly down to baby-faced frontman Bradley Christie, all loud pants, hair flicks and exuberance. They played bouncy funk rock, with Christie asking you to “Shake, shake, rattle and roll”, and sang of love at the disco. It makes sense that they have a song called Strut (Christie hoped we'd “dig it”), which borrows heavily from early Strokes. He closed the set with a precociously rasped, “Ain't nobody got time for that,” only to hear chants of “One more! One more!” from the crowd, who were by now more than a few beers deep. Taking Berlin cheerfully obliged as a couple of Whales skylarked around the dancefloor, slopping VB everywhere. There were hints of greatness on this night but really, everyone just came for a good time.