“That’s what I love about Brisbane, we’re fucken primitive!” Geoff Corbett, on his pleasure at the Hick punters disregarding the emphatic storm warnings from www.bom.gov.au and Premier Anna Bligh (that failed to produce a storm) and showing up in numbers to Saturday night’s split 7” launch at the Troubadour.

Well, what can be said or written about these guys that hasn’t been echoed before? Leading two of this town’s iconic bands, the brothers Corbett always deliver on the threat of a night to remember; unless you’ve succumbed to one of the hazards of attendance and had far too much to drink, in which case the bruises you’ve sustained from Geoff or Ben stage-diving on you may be the only clear reminders. Regardless, with both acts, if you’ve seen them live (and if you’re in Brisbane, why haven’t you?) you know what you’re going to get. Energy, raucousness, sweat, shit-stirring, swaggers, staggers and a whole lot of testosterone-fuelled swamp sleaze rock’n’roll. There will be haze in this brief retelling vs review, but that’s part of the fun… bbblllliiinnng, goes Tinkerbell’s chime, let’s begin now.

Tonight’s event is to launch a 7” vinyl release that the boys are very excited about (vinyl!!); which has SixFtHick on one side and Gentle Ben & His Sensitive Side (GB&HSS) on the other. Upon arrival we move toward the stage to spy Naughto (drummer Nick Naughton) in the process of setting up his kit. So, delays have thwarted intentions to check out Slug Guts & The Narwhals, but thankfully GB&HSS has yet to start.

Once they get going that which we have come to expect and love about this band is again unleashed. Ben Corbett is the howling, prowling panther, his rituals evident to the educated eye. Some of the vocals are lost in the soft phrasing and ambient noise of the enthusiastic crowd, but this is addressed as the pitches rise and the emotion takes over. Dylan McCormack’s progressively unique and interesting guitar intricacies are a standout, Naughto’s gusto finds him standing while belting the skins and Trevor Ludlow keeps all on track with his low-key bass. The Beginning of the End still ignites the largest response from the room full of fans (including the boys from Tripod who are bopping around me yahooing and whooping it up throughout) amongst a backalogue of GB’s greatest songs. When a few new numbers are road-tested, there’s a spaghetti western feel to the alt-countriness of it all but there’s little evidence of the new influences and eclectic sounds that Ben described back around Fiesta time. Possibly because Kate Jacobsen has her own gig with Texas Tea on tonight or maybe this was a night for the purist GBer; and there’s nothing wrong with that.

And then the onslaught. It’s time for SixFtHick. Geoff Corbett fronts the stage, verbally assaulting us with his distain for the ill advised weather forecasting and warnings, his appreciation for the crowd, the awesomeness of his apple shoes from BCF and all manner of other exceptionally funny ramblings that this man throws out at us while his little brother traverses back and forth across the stage like a caged animal, priming himself for the physical and musical workout that is about to erupt. They unite as an unmatched powerforce of the tattooed, oily-haired, smart-arsed, attitude laden canecutter boys they grow up home on the Sunny Coast. It’s a tag team verbal pummellling and the crowd loves every minute. They mount the foldbacks, they smack microphones into their heads, throw themselves on the ground, sing, growl, shout and grunt, punch the air, crowd surf willing front rowers, shake sweat from their brow and throttle tracks out in swamp punk abandon. Ben strips off his soaking t-shirt as they flog out tongue-in-cheek raw sugared, or more aptly rum soaked, Cane Trash anthem after anthem. Personal fave Flight of the Shit Bird had the crowd yelling “spread your wings and fly” in unison and bending the floor underfoot so much it was wondered how much more jumping the old boards under the carpet could take. By the end of it we’re all pissed, hot, smiling and begging for more. Who could want any better than that?