Is there any more ridiculous ARIA category than Best Adult Contemporary Album, both to audiences and artists? What does it mean: that you can string more than a one-four-five chord progression; don’t dress like heroin addicts on stage; you have your head slightly up your arse with undanceable time signatures? God knows. It’s bullocks anyway, we all know adults (whoever they are) who like saccharin pop, and youths (whoever they are) who have a penchant for wanky Drones-esque post modern rock. The headline last Friday at Billboard were The Panics, who are for all the right reasons completely undeserving winners of this year’s Best Adult Contemporary Album ARIA. They were supported by former Australian Idol participant Lisa Mitchell.

Lisa Mitchell was a finalist a few years ago in Idol. After being in the post 15 minute fame wilderness for a wee while, she is receiving some airplay of her latest EP, Welcome to the Afternoon, and is appropriately touring to plug it. Unfortunately there were terminal problems with her set. Firstly, it was nigh impossible to understand what she was singing. Her appalling diction and articulation had the unfortunate consequence of making her track Animal sound like enema. Part of the problem was a dodgy mix proffered by the sound guy, but the Panics were afflicted by the same curse and Laffer was clearer than normal. Second, her breathless, high pitched sighing made her voice sound frail rather than the intended gentle, pure, waif-like manner of Julia Stone. Third, she loafed around stage with hunched shoulders, fringe on face seemingly hiding behind her hair, and only conversing with her band mates and the first few rows of the crowd. Perhaps it was nerves, but the complete absence of stagecraft detracted terribly from her potentially likeable tunes. The highlight was the drummer’s flaccid ride cymbal stand.

Next up were The Panics and to be fair, they were who the adult contemporary crowd was here to see. Speaking of the crowd it was a rather unusual mix of indie kids (bitter about missing Bloc Party but satisfied nonetheless to be at TP’s gig), a few middle aged types done with trying to be trendy and the hot-panted, stiletto wearing, maillist brandishing staff who have clearly not received the memo that Billboard is trying to acquire some street cred.

First up was Creaks: a strong opening which exemplifies The Panics’ simple melody-focussed formula. That catchy hook has unquestionably remained in the heads of all attendees since. The band confidently played songs from their entire repertoire despite the fact that elements of the crowd would be unfamiliar with tracks from the first LP, Sleeps Like a Curse. After Creaks was My Best Mistake, and the wonderfully fun Feeling is Gone which is clearly a stylistic homage to the great Go-Betweens. Guitarist, Dave Wootton was at his jelly-necked best during Feeling. The tone shifted mid set with the title track to their current album, Cruel Guards, and crescendoed to conclude with Don’t Fight It and Get Us Home Right Now. There was nothing remotely adult contemporary about the gig. It was a thoughtful, impeccably executed and thoroughly enjoyable. Jae Laffer’s voice, which sounds affected by a golly ripe for the hoeck hanging on his epiglottis, is normally frustratingly difficult to understand on radio, but on stage last Friday, he was clear and discernable. Throughout the gig, a large proportion of the crowd sang wholeheartedly every song played. Perhaps The Panics don’t need to sing themselves, with such devoted fans.

There was a predictable encore, but unpredictably they punched out the a stellar rendition of the instrumental Fire on the Hill. In fact, one can go as far to say that Fire was the strongest track of the night. It was rousing, uplifting, exciting and soaring. Billboard did not properly do the it justice: outdoors during an electrical storm would be far more fitting.

CHECK OUT THE PIX FROM THE GIG HERE