Live Review: The Bamboos

There are not a lot of reasons to leave the house during a Melbourne winter, even fewer when a dreaded arctic blast decides, in its foulness, to throw wind, rain, and everything but the kitchen sink at you. However, the promise of an evening with the lusty soul sounds of The Bamboos, who tonight celebrate their tenth anniversary with Kylie Auldist and her spectacular voice, is enough to draw this writer off the couch and out of hibernation.

A "Full House" sign is lacquered above the leather-clad bouncers and those foolish enough to turn up without tickets leave disappointed. As sublime DJ Vince Peach spins all things soulful, snatches of conversations are overheard, almost all of which entail one fan telling another about their first time seeing or meeting a member of The Bamboos.

On the stroke of 10pm, The Bamboos begin the process of turning the dancefloor, and eventually the entire building, into a bain-marie. The super-fans (and there are a lot of them) line the stage and refuse to budge an inch as the lady of the hour, Auldist, glides onto the stage. Rats from 2013's Fever In The Road plunges the crowd headlong into a deliciously groove-filled set. On The Sly is a slinky kiss-off, as loosening hips and sandwiching pelvises bump together in harmony.

The Bamboos themselves play with enviable vigour and, under the watchful eye of bandleader Lance Ferguson, look like they are maybe, just maybe, having even more fun than the pulsing crowd. As a collective of disgustingly talented individuals, they keep things moving along with precision while never feeling rushed. After over a decade together, The Bamboos continue to be a melting pot of creativity and a delight to watch.  

The charisma emanating off the stage is intoxicating and, by the tail-end of the set, the crowd is drunk on it (and maybe on the beer, too). Like Tears In Rain is a late stage favourite and sees Auldist's golden voice kicking arse and taking names, as the sweaty masses are a mash of limbs and happy faces. Those unable to get anywhere near the dancefloor have started their own dance parties towards the end of the bar, a couple even use the infamous Cherry Bar bathroom corridor as their own personal runway. It's a joyful scene, joyful enough to forget that soon we will all be heading back into the cold.

The Bamboos could have sold out a bigger venue twice over, but by keeping it small the entire night has that magical feeling of accidentally hopping a fence and landing in the coolest house party of all time. Tonight, Auldist cements her status as Melbourne's high priestess of soul, and is completely deserving of her fast-approaching divadom.