Live Review: The Cribs, Glass Towers

31 October 2013 | 10:42 am | Adam Wilding

Sweaty and inspiring – who needs Johnny Marr to have a good time?

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The sound system at The Beresford in Surry Hills was custom tailored to fit the skewed 'C' shape of the music venue, which demonstrates an encouraging investment and commitment to live music in the inner east. Both venue and sound system were well suited to the bands on show tonight and Glass Towers used it to their advantage despite a couple of sound issues in the first couple of songs. The new wave sound that died a slow death in the late 2000s seems to be making a comeback and these youngsters are leading the charge, following some airplay and a slot at this year's Splendour celebration. Unassuming despite their fledgling career, the four-man group played with a lot of enthusiasm, reflective of many a support band which tended to occasionally fall down due to the rehearsed feeling as opposed to the theatre-sports approach of headline bands. Still, plenty of people got in early and stayed for more than a look-in, which showed the band's popularity may be destined for bigger support slots and more festivals.

Returning to Sydney for the second time this year, The Cribs came out rocking their garage work ethic and the Brit three-piece (including a fourth touring guitarist who is not Johnny Marr) got straight down to business with songs from reaches of their last ten years as a band. Their 'world's greatest rock song' got aired at number three (Come On, Be A No-One) while at the other end of the set, Be Safe's unintentional influence was one of their best on the night thanks to a synced overhead projection of Lee Ronaldo's monologue and big fat head, emphasising that not only was the sound system paying dividends, but the venue's other technical services work a treat. An eclectic mix of expats, suits, hipsters and inner westies made up the capacity crowd, who got to see that the band can still rock, taking time out to enjoy a crowd surf or three, a dig at Southern Cross tatts and “bergans”. Sweaty and inspiring – who needs Johnny Marr to have a good time?