We all know that when you get a bunch of Pommies and a bunch of Aussies in a room together, we’re all likely to get very drunk and start bashing each other up; but must this happen on stage? It was unanimously clear that the crowd loved Does It Offend You, Yeah?, but that was probably only because they were just as drunk as Rushent was.

Anyone who would have come in mid-set (basically anywhere after the epicentre which was Battle Royale) would have thought that Rushent had passed out, and security had pulled some drunken, pinging sod from the audience out to writher on stage. He probably would have remembered more words as well.

It felt a little like a house party gone terribly wrong. The white canvases behind DIOYY were often backlit so that you could see the planks of wood shining through. This made them look like windows, and with the low ceilings of Billboard, an under-rehearsed and drunk band, and a swarm of smashed punters, you could have sworn that it was a Spill Party.

However, bassist Chloe Duveaux did justice not only for bassists, but for the entire female race. She had enough energy onstage to electrify the MCG lights. None of this Fiona Kitschin monotonous ‘oh-wow-she-just-almost-smiled!’ attitude for Duveaux: she was all sass.

And apparently Rushent though the same of the audience. “You are by far the foxiest crowd. I would probably fuck any one of you. Why don’t you make a line?” After a dismal performance of new song Heart Attack, Rushent proclaimed that he needed a cigarette, but not before asking the audience if they wanted to make out. A screech of girly screams that could have been heard by a supersonic dog erupted, as 200 shrieking female fans tried to push their way to the front of the stage.

Their mistake was letting them on the stage. Their karaoke rendition of Let’s Make Out was one of the most cringe worthy musical moments this reviewer has seen all year. Who would want to pay $55 to see 20 drunk teenagers stumble around on stage and forget the words, when you could see DIOYY? Oh. Wait. There’s no difference, is there? Except that there were 20 of them, and one Rushent.

From here, the set descended into chaos.

There were new songs that went out of time, failed in-jokes, lots of promises that “this one will be better than the last shit one”, and all topped off by the bottle that was perpetually in Rushent’s hand slowly being depleted. The John Hughes tribute song Weird Science almost looked like it was going to get them back on track with its melody-heavy electro styling, but nothing could bring DIOYY, or John Hughes, back from the dead.

After nine songs, they left the stage. And the crowd didn’t even start cheering for an encore. They trudged back on, and you could feel the tension. As Rushent yelled “If you don’t like it, FUCK OFF!!”, infinitely patient lead guitarist Matty Derham helplessly said into his mike “No, please don’t. Just ignore him.” Suddenly the first song was over, and Rushent had launched himself into the drum kit, sending shit flying everywhere, leaving a surprised Rob Bloomfield looking helplessly into the crowd as the techs frantically tried to reset his kit. But so eager to get off stage, the band played on, leaving the first few minutes of Dawn of the Dead drumless. It was completely hollow. Every now and then, Bloomfield would just pathetically tap a cymbal.

A suspicious microphone change later, We Are Rockstars was the final straw. Despite a pumping audience, Derham and Duveaux spent the song so far side stage that they were nearly off it, while Rushent did his best impression of a veloceraptor having a fit. As soon as the final chord was played, both Derham and Duveaux stormed off stage, leaving the other band members to work out what to do with the mess that was Rushent. Yet the crowd kept on jumping to the sound of static.

This was a show only for the fans who were so delirious with joy that they didn’t realise how shit it actually was.

CHECK OUT THE PHOTOS FROM THE GIG HERE