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New York’s Ratatat made their long-awaited debut appearance in Perth, playing to a sold-out Capitol on a night for the bands without lead singers.

Question: what do you get if you cross the venom of Primal Scream, the roar of Kasabian and the low slung blues of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club? Answer: French Rockets are pretty darn close.

Shrouded by a constantly evolving kaleidoscopic lighting display of swirling lasers, smoke and morphing colours, the three-piece-plus-lighting-maestro delivered a thunderous set of instrumental indie-stompers, sounding like a band twice their size. Utilising tape loops and samples, Words Are Breaking Up grew from a Stone Roses-esqe I Wanna Be Adored intro into a long and heavy jam.

Signature track and future single 1×1 closed the set, with its Primal Scream inspired Shoot Speed Kill Light coda, leaving the now full Capitol in no doubt that these lads are the real deal. If you were at the gig and want to help the band fly the flag for WA music, you can vote for them at UncharTed

These Shipwrecks have been stirring up waves on the local scene recently, running on the momentum of the release of their limited run EP Leda. Following French Rockets’ blinding set was no enviable task. However, backed by a projector screen showing scenes from Harmony Korine’s arthouse film Gummo, These Shipwrecks delivered a solid and self-assured set. The focused and driven sound of opener Dreamin’ lead into two as yet untitled tracks that are earmarked for a future EP release.

Their sprawling cosmic epics, driven by Allierose Clarke’s haunting, droning cello, sounded glorious on Capitol’s sound system. Clearly overawed at having so many faces staring back at them from the audience, frontman Nathan Savage threw his guitar around like a man possessed. Doubtless, These Shipwrecks won many new fans tonight.

After a long gap between the sets, the house lights finally went down and Ratatat’s Transformers-inspired logo began bouncing around the projector screen. Long-haired guitarist Mike Stroud walked lankily onto the stage swigging from a bottle of Jamesons… very rock & roll for a rather un-rock & roll band. Bandmate Evan Mast took to the synthesized drum pads. Opting for a down-tempo opening, the crystalline harpsichord stabs of LP3’s Shiller echoed around Capitol. Stroud’s triple-tracked guitar wailed like a violin trio with a skill not seen since Queen’s Brian May.

An upbeat version of laptop-pop Crips bounced into the tribal infused Mumtaz Khan. Behind the band, on the projector screen, warped images of Aztec symbols, fire and warriors flashed in perfect sync to a relentless, tribal-infused percussion. The visuals got weirder for jazzy Flynn, explosive for Mirando, and quite spectacular for Grape Juice, with its Seven Nation Army style clip filmed entirely with birds.

It only took the opening few beats of Lex for the crowd to show that they were here for the classics. Not many bands front an audience without a singer, but Stroud’s chopped staccato guitar breaks and howling solos more than made up for the lack of a frontman proper. The set picked up more pace with Loud Pipes and the insatiable funk of Wild Cat.

Despite only having two band members on stage, Ratatat’s sublime musicianship was incredible to watch live. Switching from guitars to percussion with wanton abandon, both Stroud and Mast never lingered on one instrument for more than a minute. The dynamic interplay between the two was captured in the small movements – a knowing look, a slight nod, and the song would suddenly change direction entirely. Ratatat closed the main set with Nostrand before returning for an encore and ended the night with the long awaited and well-received Seventeen Years from their debut album.

Despite the fact that Ratatat’s songs don’t have vocals (Stroud and Mast barely mumbled more than 20 words between them), everyone in the audience knew exactly what the songs were trying to convey. The wide but simultaneously kitschy appeal of Ratatat originates from the same urban spirit as bands like Bloc Party; Modern kids writing stories to music that capture the incessant pace of the city and the ceaseless cycle of work and play, intercut by fragments of beauty and light that city folk would only see, if they stopped and looked.

For those that stopped and looked tonight, they witnessed something truly magical.

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