Is there anything more satisfying then being at a gig where the entire audience is there only to have a good time?
Not concerned what the outside world might think of them, where Facebook check-ins don’t matter, and people are therefore free to jump around like maniacs at only the slightest catalyst.
Gay Paris, their support acts, and the audience, gave the Tote that satisfying feeling – it was bliss.
The first band was a two-piece, Melbourne-based band, The Stiffys – who play music (as their name suggests) about the male genitalia. They did, however, deviate from the topic at times, as they were “under a lot of pressure not to write penis related songs” so they wrote one “about the next best thing, boogie boards!”
Their joyous, cheerful personalities and sailor outfits juxtaposed with a heavier styled, instrumental rock set, was an impressive feat.
From the very start their audience was enthralled by the band’s punchy sound, and by the end they had the crowd screaming “STIFFYS” (It was part of the act, not some poor awkward souls who enjoyed the music a little too much.)
Following the energy of the Stiffys came ThePeep Tempel, who seemed to flow on with the dynamism perfectly. These guys played an incredibly tight, full-bodied set of chest thumping rock and roll that had some audience members moving from the word go.
The band’s music was incredibly infectious – while the lead guitarist played long, intricate solos; several punters stood still with gigantic grins slapped across their faces.
Though there were only a few remarks between songs the band seemed to just get on with it – not in a standoffish way, more, a ‘we-don’t-have-much-time-so-lets-fucking-do-this’ kind of way. And they did, much to the audiences’ delight.
When Gay Paris finally walked on stage, bassist Dean Podmore stood on the stage with his arms up, screaming, which to anyone else may have seemed odd, but it was successful in rallying the gig-goers.
Frontman Luke Monks announced that he was “going to dance like mother fucking this” – while performing some kind of ‘sexy’ pole dance type move, and with that, the band were off – starting their evening of complete and utter madness.
The events that followed can only be described as chaotic. Two songs in and Monks had already torn his shirt; halfway through their set an excited woman pulled Monks off stage and ripped the shirt right off his back.
By the end of the night he was in only his underwear. Screaming to the audience that if they wanted two more songs everyone had to take their shirts off. Needless to say there were several shirtless men jumping around afterwards.
There was quite a lot of interaction, at one moment the room laughed with the band when they heard of the “house fire in [Monks’] origami district,” and another when lead guitarist, Lachlan ‘Ol Black Tooth’ Marks, leaned out and high-fived several lucky punters. And, of course, Monks took great pleasure in jumping off the stage and integrating with the masses.
Gay Paris had grabbed the audience and for the 45 minutes they were on stage they held everyone tight while they played their heavy blues rock with Monk’s unique growly vocals. By the end of the set not one person in the room wasn’t head banging. The sight was too good to be true.
