It’s not very often that you get to see two of the Gold Coast’s – and QLD’s – finest party bands at Brisbane’s cosiest live music venue. Tonight, however, marks a somewhat momentous occasion as snappy electro-flamenco mafiosi Tijuana Cartel and their hometown compadres a FRENCH BUTLER Called SMITH bring a much-needed dose of musical sunshine to those starved of the warmth. And so, without further ado…

…the clock strikes 9 and FRENCH BUTLER SMITH (thus named after three of the bandmembers – respectively singer/guitarist Scott French, dreadlocked bassist Jake – œThe Butler’ Martin and percussionist Brennan Smith) are on. Scorched by the quintet’s fierce, quasi-Caribbean rhythms, I momentarily get lost among a flurry of punters who go off like firecrackers to the music. It also proves pretty hard to describe the band’s style as they do go through a massive selection of genres – salsa, rhumba, bossa nova, ska, reggae, funk to name but a few – with ease and utter abandon. I manage to recognise The BunnyMan’s infectious acoustic guitar and brass stabs before the band deliver a true piece de resistance of their set by prompting the crowd to gradually duck and then rise up before erupting into a perspiring hive once again. Altogether now: let’s twist again, like we did last summer!

Everyone in the sold out venue is well and truly warmed up for tonight’s hosts Tijuana Cartel, who proceed to inject more fire in the crowd’s collective joints (as in limbs – not a slightest pot whiff is to be heard during the show) with their mix of flamenco guitars, pulverising percussion and groovy dance backing. Porkpie hat-sporting frontman Paul George rips into one rapid-fire lead after another while Daniel Gonzales bashes out Latin polyrhythms on his conga and timbales sets along to Carey O’Sullivan cooked-up beats; joined by stage-roaming MC Regan Hoskins, trumpeter Shannon – œVan Horn’ Booyens and guest DJ Freddie Flyfingaz, the first part of the set sees the exhilarating crew delve into dense electronic dub and heavily-moustachio’d – œ70s funk before a “beer break” is announced – cue swamped bar and, in this danced-out reviewer’s case, a breather and a stretch.

Ten minutes later, the party re-ignites in an even more grandscale fashion as the Gold Coasters return onstage and crank up some surprisingly polyphonic tribal trance before getting back to their usual business. The Cause, one of the non- They Come tracks, is met with loud cheers, as is the hypnotic Didgeridub and the assorted melodica flavours. Coming out from behind the decks, Casey sits down with Paul and the two treat us to a spicy two-guitar flamenco workout, which segues into a scintillating Zorba – at this point, the place ERUPTS, with the room temperature hitting QLD summer levels. More melodica-sampling grooves follow before the purring, strutting feline tour-de-force that is Persian hits the PA, at which point the incessant rhythm seems to have turned even the most club-footed dancers in the audience into ace movers.

Slippedy Slide signals TC’s second retreat behind The Troub’s famed red velvet curtains; in the meantime, an overzealous female punter gets onstage and bashes everyone’s collective eardrums with a screeching “We want more!” The security guard tries to remove her and gets subjected to an extended hug, at which point his hostility ceases and the collective love vibe is restored. An encore of delicious, percussion-heavy flamenco-hop tops the night off like salsa on a burrito – who needs guns and cocaine when you can get good-time live music like this?