Capitol’s bar staff wisely served their nine-dollar beers in plastic cups, fully aware that things would get airborne pretty quickly at this gig. Local support Extortion tore into their set of hardcore punk with zero fuss, led by vocalist Rohan looking as skinny, surly and disinterested as he needed to be. Their game plan was to get in and out as soon as possible. Between-song banter was limited to bass fuzz and piercing feedback. Eye contact and crowd chat were verboten; the punters that gave them an affectionate middle finger got no recognition for their efforts. After a bunch of blast-shout, a moment of baffling stoner rock, and power-chord chugging to finish, Extortion disappeared without a word. Their set was either perfectly delivered or piss-poorly phoned in, depending on how punk you are.

The game-show voiceover intro, wacky mix-n-match costuming and horn-laden comedy-punk of Nancy Vandal went over much of the audience’s collective head. They also weren’t served well by the spacious overlit venue or the gods of logistical fortune, who made them work hard to salvage their set from the get-go. Despite making a fast start with Piss In My Weetbix , things quickly went south. “Where’s the fucking wheel?” asked frontman Fox Trotsky in unison with bassist JJ La Moore . “We just realised that one of our band members isn’t on stage,” Fox explained as the hunt began to find the Wheel Of Rock. “How often does that happen?”

After a full minute’s stuffing around, the wheel was located – “The sixth member of the band,” announced Trotsky. “At the end of each song, we spin the wheel, and the number it ends up on is the number of power chords we’ll play at the conclusion of that song – no, YOU fuck off! – it’ll all become clear shortly.”

Naturally the wheel didn’t once work correctly during the set. Trotsky’s amp was soon to follow, failing shortly after Death Metal Song (Satan Is Tops) , where Trotsky and crew disastrously tried to initiate a singalong which went nowhere. Saxophonist / vocalist Gilli Pepper (- śRooty Hill Leagues Club’s Milf of the Month’) got some uneasy conversation on with the crowd while they fixed the problem. To their credit, Nancy Vandal stoically remained as chipper as humanly possible. A few punters cheered the visitors, but most were blank or hostile onlookers to a car crash. Three minutes later they got We Are Disgruntled for their trouble. NV kept plugging away, knowing that things couldn’t get any worse, and turned things around with Let’s Smash the State Tonight and another half-dozen speedy fun-metal numbers, finishing with Frenzal Rhomb Were Better When Ben Was In The Band . It’s unlikely that they’ll remember their only trip to WA with affection.

Beyonce’s Crazy In Love heralded Frenzal Rhomb ’s arrival, with a recognisably-dreadlocked Jay Whalley hanging good-natured shit on us as soon as he got mic in hand. “I’d like to say it’s good to be back in Perth but it’s really not,” he said with a grin. (Huge cheer). “Nah you all look pretty good for the most part,” he continued. “Well, you look about twenty percent good and eighty percent toothless inbred fucks.”

First up was Johnny Ramone Was In A Fucken Good Band, But He Was A Cunt , the first of a four-song bracket that took up all of one minute thirty seconds. “That went well,” Jay confirmed. “We’re gonna play songs that go a little bit longer from now on.” Genius was the next hit to be pulled out of the bag.

A pit had formed early in the heavily-packed Capitol, already about 15 deep and going mental. Crowd surfing was common and the first stage diver of the night managed to do his thing unscathed (unlike the next candidate who got nabbed by a bouncer). Meanwhile, Frenzal were tearing shit up with Genitals Are Funny , going at it with absurd pace and precision. Russell Crowe’s Band had the punters screaming at full pitch and leaping like lunatics. It was a satisfying madness, only 11 minutes into the set. Gold.

During Never Had So Much Fun , Doctor Lindemans dived into the crowd with his guitar, appearing in the DJ booth shortly afterwards with a broken Gibson SG. Bassist Tom Crease brought the song home with Jay and drummer Gordon Forman . “There’s three tuning pegs that were on [my guitar] two minutes ago that are no longer there,” diagnosed the Doctor as he passed his guitar over the crowd to the stage and fought his way back to join it. Crease put on a slap bass clinic while the Doctor borrowed Fox Trotsky’s silver LTD Explorer and tuned it down a half-step.

The pit got more and more sweaty and insane (somersaults off the stage, anyone?), weeding out the old and frail, while Frenzal’s harmony vox and playing got progressively looser (with the exception of Forman). Several well-loved tunes later, both parties gave everything they had left to a climactic Punch In The Face . Despite chants for more, the only thing coming from the stage after 11pm was a collection of found shoes, thrown back into the exiting crowd by a roadie who had clearly earned his cash.