You can tell a lot about a community by the way they comport themselves in the bathroom. There are a lot of nice things I could say about the crowd milling about the Argus Building on Tuesday night, but one reason above all others to hold this 800-strong mixed bag in high esteem is that they all managed to relieve themselves without making the frankly elementary mistake of getting piss and excrement all over the toilet bowls of the port-a-potties hived away in one corner of the ground floor. More than I can say for my recent experiences of sharing facilities with railway commuters and MCG crowds, and yet another reason to applaud Music Week for spending the last two years showcasing the relative civility of the city’s music fans.
No Zu stole the show early in the evening, repeated choruses of enthusiastic drumming matched only by equally enthusiastic poncho wearing. Frontwoman Daphne Shum spent the set reaffirming how far this six-piece near-cacophony of trumpet shrieks and furious banging had left behind her other outlet, Rat vs. Possum. Her voice was in concert with the ebb and flow of hysteria behind her, dancing disaffectedly in seeming obliviousness to the frenetic activity of the men behind her, backed up by a kaleidoscopic light show projected onto the exposed pillars of the building which at times seemed like it was aiming to indoctrinate people into the Manson Family or provoke mass seizures a la mid-90s episodes of Pokemon.
Lost Animal followed with a much more tepid set, still largely drawn from their lauded 2011 debut Ex Tropical. It was an incongruous switch from the party vibes that preceded it, and with only one new song to perform, the duo performed at their best without engendering the same level of excitement as their shows of 12 months ago.
Perhaps Oliver Tank was spoiled by the high-energy expectations earlier in the evening, perhaps it was just the vagaries of the weeknight, or perhaps Melbourne is suffering another bout of dude-with-a-keyboard-and-a-delay-pedal fatigue, but the crowd had thinned by the time he began and his placid set failed to rouse too much enthusiasm.
On a Tuesday, this lullaby order to the lineup was probably for the best. If people are courteous enough to avoid leaving errant faecal matter wherever they’re having a good time, they probably have to be up early enough on a Wednesday to continue their noble crusade of stopping civilisation from going to the dogs.
BY SEAN SANDY DEVOTIONAL
LOVED: Daphne Shum’s nail salon owner-come-lounge singer aesthetic
HATED: The nagging sense of guilt when my stream missed the bowl
DRANK: On other people’s dimes
