“Popular…culture…no longer…applies to me,” Eddie Argos, lead singer of Art Brut, may intone on - œBad Weekend’, but it is with knowing irony.

Even if his band never amount to anything more than a cobbled amalgam of well-timed pop culture references and power chords, at least they can be said to do their research. Argos and co. arrived at the far-flung Factory Theatre with a routine finely tailored to the local setting.

Opening with some tongue-in-cheek - œBack in Black’ riffing, there could hardly be a more endearing introduction. Oh, except to burst immediately into the anthemic - œFormed a Band’. This, their signature song, found Argos threatening to write a song as universal as happy birthday, a song to unite Israel and Palestine, and, for the purpose of this gig at least, a song to bring together Sydney and Melbourne ( “They told me Sydney hasn’t had a decent band since Radio Birdman…” ). It’s funny that Art Brut songs are already, I suppose, universal – if only in the sense that the words can be changed to match the context.

From here on the healthy turn-out was treated to what can only be described as part-rock concert, part-stand-up comedy act. And Argos, the true showman, revelled in both roles. During one song he hopped with kangaroo finesse through the crowd, while - œMoving to L.A.’ brought about an unbuttoning of the shirt – and thankfully nothing more.

Like David Brent, Argos is an – œentertainer’. And as all entertainers know, sometimes the warm-up acts can stitch up the main attraction. Not that this was necessarily the case here, though it did seem a rather odd line-up. First up were Bird Automatic, a young Sydney band doing that grandiose indie thing so in vogue at the moment. Really, really pleasant throughout and genuinely exciting when they picked up the tempo, the five-piece could be a group to watch if they can find their own place in the world.

In contrast, Baseball were nothing if not confronting. The cult Melbourne band is a curious mix of hardcore and vaguely middle-eastern sounds, with what sounded like some questionable politics thrown in. Theirs was a scintillating set; Evelyn Morris’ impressive drumming barely holding it all together as singer/violinist Thick Passage’s blood-curdling scream punctuated the air with alarming regularly, usually to be followed by some vindictive bow pointing. It was a bit hit and miss frankly – some songs utterly amazing, it must be said – but at least hit hard. Very hard.

While the supports played to largely bemused audiences, Art Brut worked a totally different dynamic: interactive almost. They asked for requests, and at one point Argos was stopped mid-act by a British expat who had obviously already heard the end of one of his jokes. His punch-line ruined, our man decided to rail against the notion of improvisation and it was this spontaneity that gave the performance its edge.

Those, like me, who thought the band had missed their chance to tour Australia following the lukewarm reception to album number two, It’s A Bit Complicated, were reassured that their absence was only ever a matter of getting over our country’s array of dangerous spiders. No, Art Brut had a message, Argos announced during one of his humorous diatribes, to the backing of - œBad Weekend’, and that was to tell each and every one of us in the audience to form a band. All because he works in a record store and is tired of selling video games and DVDs instead of actual records.

Art Brut may never write a song as universal as happy birthday, and they’ll never have the opportunity to grace their hallowed Top of the Pops stage, but for one night in a semi-filled room in Sydney they truly were the centre of attention. What does that say about popular culture?