One of Brisbane’s uncharacteristically hot August nights was given a suitable welcome recently as muddy punk-blues chanteuse Dallas Frasca made us all feel like a little bit of New Orleans had visited. The Globe’s windowless (and, hence, breeze-less) cavern proved to be a fitting site for the dripping slide guitar and dobro work which has become Frasca’s trademark in the scene both here and, it appears, now in Europe.

Nearly 2 hours after doors opening, Merimbula surfie Kim Churchill set the feeling for the evening. In the spirit of roots trailblazer Xavier Rudd, Churchill attempted to pack every moveable limb with as much music-making as he could, but not always with shining success. Furious guitar tapping and percussive techniques were supplemented by a stomp-box on one foot and a tambourine on the other, along with a complicated-looking harmonica contraption draped around his neck. Unfortunately his need to pack everything into every song left little room for the song structure to shine through, and his short set ended up sounding like one song re-worked 5 ways. The greatest thing about this lad, however, is his young age – song-writing can be developed and learned, but his intuitive feel around the fretboard is a rare talent.

Running behind schedule, The Globe’s almost resident support band Tim Lloydell and The Deckchairs earmarked the tone of their hideously short set by imploring in no uncertain terms for the seated audience to “get the fuck up”. Exploding through a furious set, the Deckchairs took what Churchill was trying to do and gave it the necessary depth and volume. Lloydell’s own expert guitar-percussion and finger-tapping was dutifully backed by delicious fills from lap-steel guitarist Josh Catt, with the songs driven along by competent bass and kit work. It may have been the timing, but they didn’t seem all that pleased with the support slot itself, giving off a distinct air of proving themselves. The audience, obviously inducted into the Deckchairs way, didn’t seem to need convincing, with banshee squeals and carefree hippy dancing filling the sloped floor. Standout was My Oh My, which while mechanical compared to the awe-inspiring solo version of the song, still managed to pack a decent punch. Also worth noting was the downright balls needed to take a lapsteel and an acoustic guitar into a Rage Against The Machine tribute as crescendo to their set – a growling half-cover of Bullet In The Head.

The oppressive heat in the airless room saw the crowd file out to the foyer or street between sets, meaning the venue was empty by the time headliner Dallas Frasca and Her Gentlemen took to the stage. Back-up singer Natalie Carey aka Bserk and her sibling drummer Brendan took the early jump to entice the crowd back in before the flame-haired lady and her dobro-wielding off-sider hammered into a brutal intro segment punctuated by heartbreak tale Strong Man which, she informed us, had just been a surprise hit in Europe. The almost vaudevillian interplay between Frasca and left-handed upside-down dobro player Jeff Curran aka Moon Maggot or Mr Putrid reached its peak when the singer stripped off her guitar and took the microphone for a wander through the crowd to sing an entire number. The crowd, now just half of what local boy Lloydell was able to muster, was lapping up the MOR-tinged deep punk blues and roots as much as she could dish it. Highlights included Thank You For Making Me Who I Am (surely a middle-aged housewife anthem if ever I’ve heard one) and I Like It Better When You’re Straight. The contrived theatre of the Frasca experience (the brilliant red dreads coupled with the cutey tutu, for example) could easily leave a bitter taste if it wasn’t for her thorough understanding of southern blues and her ability to re-invent it for a wholly different audience and time. And Brisbane, being not that far removed on this weird mid-winter’s night from that sound’s origins at least in climate, was a richer place having played host to it on this night.