Canberra folk filled an intimate Phoenix Bar on Sunday 10 January in anticipation for the return of Canberra favourite, Brothers Grim & The Blue Murders.

Despite the Sunday half-asleep vibe and sweltering heat, the audience was in high spirits, chatting, joking and laughing. Some were organised enough to bring fans, knowing the luxury of air conditioning was not on offer at our beloved Phoenix.

The evening, which promised to be a Melbournian blues train, steamed ahead with the much needed energy from Graveyard Train. Their ‘all in together’ country blues dubbed ‘Horror Country’ had heels tapping, with washboards, banjos and five bodies crowded around two mics, ensuring the audience was well awake.

Next up, Cash Savage & The Last Drinks melted into a silkier blues set, with Cash’s front woman vocals settling us back into Sunday chill-out.

On the third stop of their Gut Rot tour Brothers Grim & The Blue Murders are scheduled to spread their musical venom along the East Coast, where all comes to a sweaty crescendo at the Tamworth Festival. Their last Canberra gig dominated the Front Gallery Café as part of Medicinal Sunday, last July, and repeat offenders waited eagerly, knowing exactly how their evening would turn.

Front men James and Matt Inabinet began setting up the stage, already glistening with sweat from the 37 degree heat outside and intimately hot Phoenix.

James opens the show with a focused stare and talk about religion. Swigging his whiskey & dry, his leather pants and tattooed arms set the scene for what proves to be a sweaty evening, thick with dirty blues and sexual innuendo.

With a grunt and a wail the Brothers charge knee-deep through a swamp of dark, rootsy blues, tinged with deviant lyrics.

The intensity is thick and James is focused. Not even a loose mic stand can throw him off his trance, as he rips off the mic and cocks a joke about it pointing south, “My mic’s tired and stressed, he needs to try again in the morning.”

The band delve into Exit Wounds as James asks the audience, “Want me to go hard or soft?” A patchy wave of womens voices proclaiming ‘hard’ wafts towards the stage. And hard they did.

James wailed into the mic with lyrics like ‘Sometimes I cry,’ clutching his sweaty chest, convulsing and holding onto his chair as though he might fall off. Singing about – œshitty times’ he stomped his boots.

There’s something so enthralling and unique about James’s dialogue with the audience. As his brother sits quietly next to him, guitar in lap, James gets intimate with the room. His dark eyes dart around with murderous intensity, as he throws back the rest of his whiskey and snorts, “I stuffed my wife and put her on the mantelpiece, she looks good there.” His voice reminds me of Jack Nicholson in 60’s cult flick, Easy Rider, and the audience exhale into a chuckle.

It’s at this time we’re also made aware that the scoundrel Brothers have their mum in the audience, and she proudly blows a big kiss to the front of the stage.

James grabs his mic and stomps into crowd pleaser, Friends Like These. Mid song, he strips off his vest and growls into the audience, “Sorry mum.” The Brothers deliver the most intense rendition of this song I’ve ever heard, and if it weren’t for the sticky heat sitting stale in the air, they would have turned stomping feet into gyrating bodies in a flash.

Blame the weather man I guess (Daniel Gibson).

The gig showcased one of Melbourne’s many musical strengths, delivering an entertaining underground of the live blues/alt country scene. Moreover, it reminds us just why we drove into the city on a Sunday night, endured the heat, purchased some merch and left with a big smile on our faces.