Music / punk
Review: Amyl and the Sniffers, Louisiana
A cracking support slot from Menstrual Cramps (so good it’s reviewed separately here) had warmed up the sold-out crowd, who were packed in so tightly the headliners struggled to take the stage. Amy Taylor, gargantuan grin & vocals, shadow boxed as band members Bryce Wilson, Declan Martens and Gus Romer respectively planted arse on the drum stool and picked up their instruments. Then BANG! 45 minutes of mayhem, pandemonium and chaos and they were gone. No encore but the crowd still thrilled, sweaty, hoarse and sated.
Amyl and the Sniffers have been harvesting acres of publicity and are building a massive buzz after a bunch of thrilling live shows. They are riding a wave of both critical acclaim and growing support from ver public. They’ve done so with a batch of tunes essaying the underbelly of 21st century Australia, the music primal punk n roll and the lyrics somehow simultaneously bleak & nihilistic, yet humorous & celebratory.
is needed now More than ever
Given their nationality a fair few critics have likened them to AC/DC, but in truth, if you want comparisons they’re more akin to Rose Tattoo. ‘DC were / are notoriously dismissive of punk (despite being lumped in with the scene upon their arrival here around ’76). ‘DC are too blues based for true comparison but on the other hand Rose Tattoo had a fuck-off punk attitude from the start. Strip away the slide guitar and replace the swagger with surliness, and you’ll see they share the same antipodean DNA.
That said, the band also pull in the more yobbish elements of glam and splice them with original punk for short, sharp shockers: verses that don’t hang around and earworm choruses. And songs that come to life on stage with the crowd word perfect on every cut. The band blasted them out with power and aggression, winding up a crowd to fever pitch and inspiring pure havoc down the front. And in the middle of the room too but the back too packed to allow much movement.
Taylor was a mesmerising presence – winding up the band, winding up the crowd and winding herself up. Olympic standard crowd surfing on at least two songs; bopping & boxing; headbanging & pogoing, she freely admitted leather trousers were a stupid choice of stage wear. She was funny with it, shedding light of the subject of the tunes, guzzling water (“Get hydrated if you can’t get high”) and egging the band on continuously.
The band were relatively static, shirts off after a couple of tunes they worked the material hard. Gang vocals on the choruses, no fucking around, just laying down the beat and pounding out the riffs. And that was just perfect for the music: cathartic, pummelling music inspiring a massively reckless physical response from the crowd.
It would be hard to pick out highlights, the relentless blur of the set and the constant motion of the crowd made for a breakneck experience. I’m Not a Loser was an early highlight, killer chorus that the crowd lifted to the roof; a vicious, prowling Some Mutts (Can’t Be Muzzled) concluded the set and jammed in between those two were a dozen or so impossible to ignore aural nail-bombs. It never felt like the whole thing was gonna fall apart but band and crowd flirted with a descent into bedlam that delivered a visceral, thrilling experience.
There’s no doubt that if they keep this pace up Amyl and the Sniffers are gonna break big, they won’t be playing small rooms next time they’re in town. Despite the apparent simplicity of their material, there’s more to the songs than smash, bash & crash. It’s gonna be a delight watching this band take it to the next level and fuck up the moribund mainstream: can you imagine them on the Brits? Fingers crossed.
Amyl & the Sniffers: Louisiana: Thursday, 04 April 2019
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