Last night I went to see the Aussie band Amyl and the Sniffers at the Electric Ballroom in Camden.
There was a large contingent of Aussies in the crowd, of course. The blokes all had 70s cricketers’ moustaches, proving that Movember is observed just as zealously by Australian men 10,000 miles from home.
The music press likes to describe Amyl & The Sniffers as a punk band but anyone who has grown up in Australia will recognise them as your typical Aussie pub rock band.
You’ve got the larrikin, ‘no-fucks-given’ singer in Amy Taylor. Pedal-to-the-metal riffs from her recently de-mulleted band mates. And a set that didn’t let up for a second in case the crowd’s interest waned and they got pelted with beer.
The review of the gig in The Times described the atmosphere as ‘unusually febrile’. A guy muscled his way through the crowd and stood right in front of me and we nearly got into a fight. It was just like a pub gig back home, right down to his girlfriend pulling him away saying ‘He’s not worth it!’.
I’m not sure what the local punks made of it all. They were there too, in all their finery too, including one girl who’d gone the full Lady Haversham with a bridal dress, a veil and smeared makeup.
I must admit I never saw anyone dressed like that a Rose Tattoo gig at the Royal Antler in Narrabeen. Even after Scott and Charlene’s wedding.