Streetlight are about as good as Perth can offer when it comes to bands that can turn a live performance into a spectacle. Just as important as their rich, textured art-punk-fusion-whatever music is the visual element of their show, revolving around the unavoidable presence of frontman Le Craft. As his bandmates set the scene with their trademark instrumental curtain raiser, Craft enters the stage maracas in hand, peering out from behind dark sunglasses. And when he drops the maracas and opens his mouth on opening track I Borrowed the Light, he grips the microphone and spits every word out across the crowd like he means it more than anything else.
And the intensity doesn’t drop. They rifle through the bulk of their self-titled mini album, with drummer Chris James calling the shots on every tempo and tone change while Ben Van Grootel (bass) and Jonathan O’Neill (guitars) provide the punch and power behind the epic build-ups that define the Streetlight sound. But what sets Streetlight apart from all the other bands continuing the legacy of At the Drive-in is their careful and precise arrangements, thanks largely to the effects put down by guitarist Karlin Courtney and the dramatic edge you get from Rachael Aquilina on violin. But while all of that comes together to form the band’s sound, it all comes back to that spectacle. Craft switches between maracas and tambourine at will, bouncing between the drum riser to the microphone, off his bandmates and anything in between like a pinball with grace and finesse. There’s a stage invasion on single Attack That Gentleman and a new song on the home straight but it all comes together on final track The Poet’s Paper Boat, which stretches the typical Streetlight build-ups and breakdowns out to extremes leaving every last punter wanting more.
It’s probably worth pointing out right now that Streetlight were the support act.
NZ band Cut Off Your Hands have a hard act to follow and to be frank, they don’t come close to putting on the kind of show Streetlight played just minutes earlier. Nick (vocals), Phil (bass), Michael (guitar) and Brent (drums) arrive on stage decked out as if in some sort of uniform, sporting the same tragic ‘geometric’ T-shirts, skinny black jeans and there’s-more-on-top quiffing. They sweat like pigs during early tracks and don’t show any signs of easing off as they shake off whatever nerves they may have had.
But it’s during You and I that the performance climaxes. As Phil’s bouncy Smithsy bassline tees things up, the band’s frontman falls to his hands and knees, pounding the floor before appearing to teleport into the centre of the crowd, tangling his new best friends up in the microphone lead as he makes his way to the bar and back. Returning to the stage for just a few seconds, he’s still not going to settle down; he climbs up Brent’s riser before clambering onto the Amplifier ceiling, dangling himself over the stage while the crowd cheers on. He reaches out and somehow manages to grab a hold of Michael’s microphone, pulling it up to his mouth to finish the song.
But unlike Streetlight, who pulled the dynamic and exciting visual element of their show into their sound, Cut Off Your Hands seem to rely a little too heavily on that aspect of their show to patch up their shortfalls. Their set clocks in at eight songs and around 40 minutes, covering almost everything on their two EPs. No, they’re not bad at all; it’s just they’re playing cards with half a hand. Closed Eyes and Still Fond, both from the Blue On Blue EP, go down well with the crowd, but you get the feeling it’s their onstage antics the fans are there for, with the music always second fiddle.
