Live Review: The Ape, Greta Mob, Spencer P Jones

Original Beast Of Bourbon Spencer P Jones wandered through a loose solo set, armed only with his axe and his trademark dry humour, slurring rudely in between songs. His setlist was filled with songs about the dregs of city life, haunted tales and barroom anthems, stripped back to sparse skeletons. Spencer still has a deft touch that lent some strange grace to his (occasionally) rough, wounded sound. This was the highlight off the night based on character alone.

Sydney outfit Greta Mob started strong with a seething number with a droning martial rhythm that wouldn't feel out of place in a political rally. The band and its sound seem linked with colonial Australia's chequered past, taking its name from an Irish horse-thieving gang, and the songs sound like they're caked in dried blood, bark and gunpowder. Frontman Rhyece O'Neill was magnetic, and bucked and swayed as their songs hit crescendos and faded out. The grim tone was almost a grind by the end, with not much let-up in the pressure, and it cost the set some of its appeal. It is rare to see this much focused conviction these days with contemporary music, so bands like this, regardless of taste, are important.

The Ape disappointed. This is perhaps one of Tex Perkins weakest projects to date. Their sound is rote (an apologist/fan would likely say retro or throwback) and they lack punch, despite their pedigree. Those wanting or expecting the trademark Perkins of yore, full of piss and vinegar and possibly some hip-thrusting instead received a decent if completely disposable turn on guitar and vox. The harmonies were fine, the songwriting was OK, and the room enjoyed it. This one was for fans only.