Residing in Northcote, the trip down to St Kilda often seems just too far. This night, however, there was no choice. Darts and The Stiffys playing a free gig in the Prince of Wales Public Bar? Onto the 96 I happily strode.
The Prince front room is ideal for anyone that digs a no-nonsense dive bar setting and planting roughly six to 12 pints (well, schooners) in the belly. It’s not a massive room, but there’s ample seating space and a couple of pool tables, perfect for poking strangers in the eye. Most importantly, it houses a ballsy PA and a dance floor that wants your company. And the Friday night entertainment options are never shy of crackin’ good.
Up first was Darts – a five-piece, three girls, two boys combination from Melbourne. Tonight, they put their allotted digits to good use, interlaying guitars and keyboards, while three members separately had a crack at lead vocals. This multi-voiced tact let Darts fearlessly jump between frenzied-head 2000s post-punk (a la Die! Die! Die! or Modest Mouse) and feel-it-in-your-hips beating insistence, served up with a side of munchable indie-pop. The sonic downpour was delivered so powerfully that the crank living across the road issued several sound complaints (at 10pm on a Friday? Read the news pal – venues rule this town!)
After some ramshackle clumsiness on the pool table, The Stiffys arrived on stage to illustrate that a sailor’s life is a more promising path to ecstasy. Tonight, as per usual, there was just one item on the shiny-toothed duo’s agenda: bringing back the good times. And The Stiffys didn’t simply have themselves a gas; they placed an embargo on inhibitions and rolled out 40 minutes of impossibly fun hilarity.
The Stiffys could be seen to trade in silliness alone – with songs such as I’m Really Good at Sex Because I’m Always Doing It and the almost eerie crowd surfing boogie board – but they’re actually responsible for a stack damn fine tunes. Not only does the two-piece implement vocals, bass (sent through an effects-motherboard) and drums with a corporeal thrust, but each one of their songs is liable to imprint itself in your memory and forcibly erupt from your larynx. Accordingly, tonight the close-to-crowded dance area became a pool of boisterous bodies, moving in rum-soaked unison.
BY AUGUSTUS WELBY
Loved: Dare I say it… St Kilda.
Hated: What goes up, must come down.
Drank: One after another.
