Gigs and shows take on a whole new atmosphere as soon as summer has really kicked in. It’s hard to know whether it’s the long anticipated warmth, the impending silly-season or a combination of these and more, but add to the mix a host town with a perennial festival feel and an international artist that oozes summertime positivity, and you’ve got a show with an almost tangible gravitational pull.

The thick humidity hanging from ceiling of the Great Northern’s Back Room is further clogged by the sub-audible hum of pure excitement. Finally though we’re doused in the refreshing qualities of the Bonjah sound. Regan Lethbridge ’s creamy, reggae chunk-a-chunk sends a visible pulse through the already near-capacity, yet stage-shy crowd and David Morgan’s custardy walks and bass throbs provide the perfect accompaniment. But it’s Glenn Mossop’s jug of a heart pouring into the mic that’s providing the addictive topping. His vocals are smooth and raspy at the same time, his demeanour is coy and commanding; he’s the perfect front-man because he wouldn’t mind taking a back seat.

The expertly constructed set from the Melbourne five-piece steps from reggae to folk to rock with the odd splash of soul. Colours is a bouncing funk-stomp as is Fly and both work as great crowd bait drawing the mass closer and closer. But the clear highlight is the heartbreakingly beautiful folk jaunt of Bring Back The Fire. With men man-crushing and women swooning, the Bonjah set steps up further with roots-rock riffing and a percussion fit. As the boys express their appreciation the crowd are in love. It’s a big call for a sell-out crowd that were previously already spoken for.

After watching a handful of roadies perform some not-so-typical forms of sound-checking the mass of craning necks and darting eyes spy the prize – and to describe their reaction as beserk is an understatement. G.Love and Special Sauce has released seven heartily digested long-players and so, has developed one of the healthiest and utterly-smitten fan bases around. When the lanky south-Philly lad takes the stage, he visibly relishes the adoration.

Effectively chopping his towering stature in half Garret Dutton aka G.Love takes a seat at the front of stage, ducks through the hoop of his harp-brace, looks back to see that Houseman is at the ready, then a 3-note down-stroke melts hearts and Blues Music has opened the set. As slow and smooth as molten lava and practically as hot, the song is a salve for sore ears. G.Love’s legs have a mind of their own. In his seated position it’s a steep uphill climb from hip to knee and regardless of a particular song’s rhythm or tempo his legs just want to dance. It’s only a couple of tracks before he appeases their wish and suddenly the whitest black-man alive is standing well within sight of even the shortest fan.

The show quickly takes shape and the down-tempo blues gives way to a loose, jangly, lip-smackin’ rhyme fest. All the classics make an appearance as G.Love moves between lady-loving crooner, streetwise rapper and blues-band front man. Speaking of bands, Special Sauce is still as tight as ever. A great deal of the band’s appeal and one of it’s most obvious characteristics is the loose, free-flowing instrumentation. The band go into individual breakdowns during The Fishing Song and it really does appear as though Jeff Clemens on drums and Mark Boyce on keys are playing completely by a – œfeel’ that belies the flawless timing. New bassist, Timo Shanko seems to find the fairly gaping shoes of Jimmy – œJazz’ Prescott a nice fit indeed and further double knots those laces with a quick saxophone squirt. The regular set rounds out at a sweating and puffing ninety minutes with a clear crowd favourite; Yeah It’s That Easy – œs tribute to Philadelphia’s motorway infrastructure, I-76 brings down the house.

After an agonising five minute breather G.Love returns to the spot light armed with an acoustic guitar and panty-wetting rendition of that gorgeous country-folk love ditty Gimme Some Lovin’. Following with the innuendo soaked Kick Drum proves too much for most to bare and sees the girls getting rowdy. G.Love just had his sweaty cheek licked by one ridiculously saucy stage invader when he makes the executive decision to play Booty Call. By the first chorus more than half a dozen young, frothing girls are on stage jostling for position under his wing.

As security finally ushers the last groupie from the stage G.Love makes some signals to side of stage, casually walks over, leans out of sight, then walks back across to the mic exhaling in Houseman’s direction what can only be assumed to be one very decent bong hit. With a few complimentary blessings to the punters and the town of Byron Bay, he’s slung his Gretsch over his shoulder and the dials are jammed for a fuzzed-out, rendition of The Beatles’ twelve-bar beauty Why Can’t We Do It In The Road

With an ovation that would have to be one of the grandest the venue has seen in some time, G.Love and Special Sauce exit in the very same direction of that alleged bong-hit. There’s a sizeable crowd championed by young girls that aren’t budging from the stage. As those of us with morning commitments jealously judge and exit, it’s nice to note that with drenched shirts, sopping hair and hoarse voices, that sub-audible hum of excitement hasn’t dispersed – In fact, even with that tinnitus ring in my ear, I think it’s even louder.