Mix a three-piece horn sections, a ripping selection of percussion instruments, a cosmic lead guitarist, plus bassist, drummer, keys, and a lead singer that croons like Sinatra himself, and you might get in the same stratosphere as The Jupiters. The nine-piece’s soul infused funk music warmed the room, and sent their reputation soaring.

If you didn’t know that his name was Patty White, you would swear that the lead singer was black, with a voice like James Brown. There’s another White – Max tapping away on percussion, so it’s certainly a colourful band. Although visually exciting, with big bands come big problems, none of them their own. Their mixing was all off – the bongos and drums were both under-miked, which left the sound feeling a bit hollow. Which is hard for a nine-person funk band to sound. Tom Robinson’s earth-defying guitar solos weren’t applauded enough due to the swamped sound either. However, his left-handed Hendrix style shreds were well appreciated by the audience. This said, chick-magnet of the band has to be given to saxophonist Josh Barrow – never have so many blonde babes screamed for sax soul solos. The brass section, rounded out by Milo Dodd on the trombone, and Tom Bleby on the trumpet, could have been featured more. Instead of the occasional backing toots, we would have liked to have seen them take control a little more, and blaze.

The only disconcerting thing about watching The Jupiters is their appearance – how can all of them possibly be overage? They sing songs about how “I just kissed my baby”, and someone sniggered close by “was it their first kiss? Is that why they’re so excited?”. It conjured memories of Pornland’s At The Prom in content and style. Although this childlike exterior may work against some bands, it only amplifies their talent. It’s exceptional how talented these kids are for their age. Watch this stage.

Trying to get back into The Corner’s band room after a quick smoko was akin to trying to fit into a pair of boots three sizes too small. To try and get a drink would be an effort the same size as climbing Everest. Bonjah rose to the challenge, giving the packed audience a stirring performance. Albeit, they could have used a few more drinks: their folky funk set was impeccable, but almost too perfect. There was no buzz, and even lead singer Glenn Mossop’s ‘improvised’ vocal trills sounded over-rehearsed. But to complain about a set being too faultless is pointless – all in all, it was fantastic.

The moment of the set had to be a rousing rendition of The Beatles’ Come Together. Covering the Liverpudlians can be risky, as there is long way to fall if you fail. But Bonjah did a brilliant job. Other set highlights were the audience’s acoustic sing along to Love, Bonjah’s make-do anthem, and of course, the very fly Fly.

Despite Mossop’s strong and unique voice, brownie points were awarded to lead guitarist Regan Lethbridge. He is nothing short of phenomenal. Lethbridge looks so natural, so effortless, so into what he’s doing – yet he’s accessible and entices the audience under his spell. There’s something somewhat reminiscent of Kevin Parker from Tame Impala there – if Tame Impala had a love child with The Beautiful Girls.

Percussionist James Majernik also quietly stole the stage with his ability to play three instruments at once. In front of him lay every primary-school thing you could hit with a stick: tulip tone blocks, cow bells, cymbals, triangles, bongos, even a vibraslap. And playing tambourine in time while battering everything else is a mean feat.

After one and a half hours, everyone was beat. Arm in arm at the front of the stage, Bonjah took a bow as Jackson Jackson started to penetrate the sound system. How lucky are we to have so many good funk-infused bands alive and well in Melbourne today?

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