I’m not sure, but it fit the bill for a wet and cold Friday night, when a couple hundred odd looking types gathered in crimson lit Candy’s Apartment for Ghosts of Television’s EP launch (with friends!).

The first act I got to see call themselves Hobgoblin Syndicate and the interest wanes after that. Some sort of hip-hop meets electro band, with a white boy rapper shouting lyrics like ‘Luke I am your father’ then bursting into some Prodigy-esque beats seemed odd in comparison to the rest of the lineup. Yet they had a large portion of the thirty people there nodding their heads quite fiercely, so they must have some fans.

Next up were The Laurels. Now, let’s make this clear, The Laurels have stolen my soul. A psychedelic mash of Nirvana grunt, Rage Against the Machine riffs and Dandys lyricism, they burst into songs, shred them to bits then thank the audience for attending. They took noise to a new level on the night, with a lead singer who was Anton Newcombe, Kurt Cobain and Courtney Taylor-Taylor rolled into one.

Following were Atrocities, a band who tried very hard, but were either too stoned or too drunk to achieve much. I’ll be the first to admit, there’s nothing quite as cathartic as screaming out loud, but doing it for thirty solid minutes into a mic, while the other lead looks dazed and tells the audience to f*** off is not as appealing as it may seem. A shame considering they actually have some fantastic songs, and when they got into the right groove, they were not only listenable, but enjoyable.

The band of the evening, Ghosts of Television, was the drawing card for most of the audience it seemed. Launching into older material first, their soundscapes pleased the ears while our eyes enjoyed the band’s neurotic performance. Instruments constantly change hands between members, which can be distracting, but they take it in their stride. They are a gripping band to watch, each member completely engrossed in the music.

When they played the song City of Painless Childbirth off their new EP Furthest Village from the Sun, the lead singer actually looked like his aorta might burst from his straining yelps. They excelled from beginning to end, and blew the audience out of the water. Any gig which ends with the singer diving into a crowd-formed death circle is quality entertainment. Once they get tighter in their sets, there’s no telling where they could go. They definitely leave their peers for the evening crying in the dirt.

Photo by Amanda Como.