‘Pocket Rocket’, it’s a term that has been variously applied to the 1995 Nissan Pulsar, Tony Liberatore, Kim Jong Il and the never completed space shuttle program of the European Space Agency. I will now apply it to Katrina Utomo because she proves that even if you’re only 4’9 you can still sound like a stocky, greek footballer, albeit a castrato in this instance.

Canberra seems to have a knack for producing feisty short-asses. Her band Young and Restless aren’t half bad either, here’s why: female vocals are known to work-the-pants 2000 times harder than male vocals (regardless of the gender inside those pants) and there can only be one Yeah Yeah Yeahs and because they’re famous they can’t always be playing gigs in Perth (listen up fools). Of course if the Yeah Yeah Yeahs do get to Perth then Karen O and Katrina Utomo should totally get together and have a Pocket Rocket convention where they just do a lot of screaming and being sexy and stuff. Y&R play what they call “noisy repetitive party music” and while a lot of people out there like to dis on the concept of repetition you ain’t hearin’ nobody complaining about sex. Which is exactly the way Utomo and bassist Ross Paxman get into your ears, in and out, in and out.

Any band that has the “we just like to party and music is the way we do it” ideology at its centre is more than likely to gig-hard. It is for that reason that I can’t work out whether these characters pulled a set that was very well thought out or if it wouldn’t have mattered in what order they played the songs. Because there was a definite party climax as they played Satan which is the aceest track on radio at the moment but thankfully underplayed. Getting back to my point on repetition, it was not just the climax that warranted praise (listen up boys); there were still points of massive excitement when they played Kapow like an open letter addressed to the crowd which read “how do you bastards like guitars?” I like them fine, thanks for asking. The radio favourite Dirty Kicks was underdone on charisma, but that happens when Triple J spend all day replaying your music. Apart from that one minor disappointment, the set was exactly the way Y&R would have wanted it, a floor-punching party-time from hell, which is what we all want on a Saturday night anyway.