Live Review: The Smith Street Band, Andrew Jackson Jihad, The Sidekicks, The Sugarcanes

Who's reading this? That's the intrigue that surrounds bands with near cult-level followings like The Smith Street Band. Surely not moshers who were at the show. They hardly need a written affirmation of the religious experience they had Wednesday night in a cramped, sold-out Manning Bar. Is it punters looking for insight on the supports? Well — they fucking nailed it. There it is in four words. No. It's got to be people who are curious about The Smith Street Band show experience. Is it for them? You know what; perhaps it isn't. For some, spinning the epic Throw Me In The River at home, on good headphones, locked away from the world is the best option — short of Wil Wagner performing in your bedroom.

Lucy Wilson fronted The Sugarcanes. She was an impassioned, soulful slow-burner of an opener, great for the ease-in. Chugging guitars and organ-style keyboards filled the steadily-filling room. The Ghost Of Willie Mitchell was the doo-wop-flavoured highlight.

The Sidekicks ramped it up another notch. Their more polished, typical 'nasal' emo tunes — clean guitars and pocket-sized two-minuters — a nice change of pace.

In the group's native USA the roles would be reversed: Smith Street would be supporting Andrew Jackson Jihad. Boy, were they a delight, their folk-punk tunes evoking a more frantic, drum-heavy Mountain Goats. The group's live iteration built and built until frontman Sean Bonnette could no longer contain his hard-hitting lyricism and youthful energy.

The Smith Street Band, as expected, nailed their post-rock-inspired quiet/loud/quiet dynamic, Wagner's distinctive voice in fine form for set highlight Throw Me In The River. The track followed the group's signature build format, but that moment where it all comes crashing down was second to none.

Lucy Wilson re-emerged for the slow-building crooner I Scare Myself Sometimes. Quick glances around the room evoked visions of hungry greyhounds champing at the bit; the majority weren't taking in the beauty of the moment, instead hanging for the music to ramp back up to mosh-level. And truly, that's fine. This gig had to be the highlight of their year. For those looking for a different experience however, the back of the room was the place to be.

So there you have it: an amazing performance. Nothing short of a barnstormer. Just make sure you ask yourself: do I see Wil Wagner as an everyman poet or a fucking legend who I can mosh my heart out to? If the former is true, go along. See if it's for you. Both parties are rewarded; perhaps not in equal proportion.