IT’S a diverse crowd which has gathered at the Hi-Fi Bar. There are awkward nerds, indie and emo kids who spent their early high school years listening to Kitty and Peaches yet now listen to infinity cooler bands and are here for a nostalgia trip, and kids who look like they needed a fake ID just to get into the venue.

Local two-piece garage rockers Digger and the Pussycats warm up the crowd. They’re an odd support for the almost child-like charm of the Presidents – which is evident to the crowd as singer/guitarist Sam Agostino and drummer Andy Moore spit on each other and the crowd while dedicating the thrashy Fashion Victim to “all those c***s in Sydney.” Still, their 45-minute set – which comprises a lot of tracks from current album Watch Yr Back plus a couple of older tracks – doesn’t fail to entertain.

Half an hour after Digger and the Pussycats have departed the stage, The Presidents bounce on stage to a big reception, all dressed in their now-regulation black pants, white shirts, ties and sneakers. Singer Chris Ballew and drummer Jason Finn (who is now sporting an excellent set of mutton chops) seemingly haven’t aged since the band’s heyday, and touring guitarist Andrew McKeag (original guitarist Dave Dederer still records with the band, but doesn’t tour because he has a young family) more than adequately fills in the big shoes.

Ballew steps up to the microphone and announces “I heard you on my wireless back in ‘52…,” the crowd recognises Video Killed the Radio Star, goes completely ape-shit and we’re off. The song is backed up with Kitty – complete with synchronised pogo-ing from Ballew and McKeag – and Ballew holds the microphone up to us to sing the “fuck you kitty, you’re going to spend the night…” bit. It’s like it’s 1996 at Festival Hall over again (incidentally, that was the first show this reviewer ever attended, at the age of 12).

The next hour is largely a greatest hits set – from the first album we get the obligatory Peaches and Lump (during which a girl evades the security guards to dance on stage), Dune Buggy, Boll Weevil, Back Porch and Naked and Famous while from the unfairly maligned second album II we’re treated to singles Tiki God, Mach 5 and Volcano. Unfortunately, material from the band’s final studio offering before their five-year hiatus - Pure Frosting – is overlooked.

All this is coupled with Ballew’s natural charm. There’s plenty of rock star piss-take his instance that McKean and Finn join him to “soc it to me” – they have one big flourish to finish a song but Ballew asks them to repeat the action 7 times, then 17 times, followed by “how about you soc it to me 207 times?” His band happily obliges and we’re treated to a noisy, minute-long thrash which Finn seems to end a second prematurely (“at least someone’s keeping count,” notes Ballew).

Oddly enough, most tracks from latest album Love Everybody - the album the band is still on the road to promote – are overlooked. The title track, Some Postman and Highway Forever go down well and before teaching the crowd the chorus to current single Zero Friction, Ballew decided to conduct a pop quiz.

“How many of you own our new album?” he asks.
A smattering of hands is raised.
“How many of you don’t own our new album?”
More hands are raised.
“How many of you are planning on stealing our new album?”
Almost everybody in the room raised a hand.
“Good.. good… just don’t tell them I told you to do it.”

The set closed with an enthusiastic Kick Out The Jams, which segues into Johnny O’Keefe’s Shout and just when we think it’s all over, Motorhead’s Ace of Spades.

Of course, no perfect pop gig is complete without an encore, and the band bound back on stage to tear through first album highlight Candy. Two fan-boys in the crowd who are wearing home made ‘Bug City’ t-shirts in the hope that the band will play the second-album track are thrilled when Ballew not only dedicates the song to them, but also invites them up on stage for a bit of a dance (and a camera phone photograph). The set proper is completed by an electrifying We’re Not Going to Make It which is given a unique twist – Ballew ends by rapping the story of the band’s career thus far (“we got signed by a major label.. we toured and toured.. we tried so hard.. we took a break for five years but came back to the band”) before ending up with “and we’re playing for you here in Melbourne, Australia – it looks like we made it!”

Afterwards, Ballew and McKeag come and shake the hands of front row punters, hand out plectrums and have cameras shoved in their faces.

The most pleasing aspect of the night was that the Presidents were much, much more than a slightly daggy nostalgia act. Maybe it’s the fact that they performed with such genuine enthusiasm and energy, maybe it’s the fact that the band’s simple pop-rock tunes never went out of fashion in the first place or maybe it’s the fact that tracks from the bands latest album – which, remember, they’re here to flow – fit into the band’s back catalogue like they were written in 1995. Regardless, it didn’t matter – everybody went home happy. And on a cold Wednesday night in Melbourne, can you ask for more than that?