It was one of those nights when it seemed as if every which way you turned you would run into someone of familiarity from the local music scene; whether it be a musician, journalist, or over-enthusiastic blogger with a penchant for music trends, all were in session.

Audience members aside, the night began in an unexpected but more than welcome way. There were rumours floating around during the day of a possible appearance by an associated group of The Growl, a little band who you may have heard of – Tame Impala anyone?

Considering all members of The Growl, Tame Impala, Pond – and every other associated Perth musical project featuring members of the aforementioned conglomerate of talent – constantly tour together, there was a definite buzz spreading throughout The Workers Club as to what might actually happen.

Delivering on the hopes of all who had arrived for an early pint or two, a group led by Tame Impala frontman Kevin Parker took to the stage to dabble in a four-track set of what seemed like an honest and bizarrely intimate garage jam sesh.

As if completely unplanned, the assembly set about performing a positively inspired improvised set and with such an array of talent on display, all that each band member had to do was simply glance at each other for a key change or time mix-up.

Them Bruins continued proceedings by throwing a raucous set of stripped down rock into the mix.

Aggressive chords and avid rhythm sections mad one want to throw your hands in the air – and wave them around like you do, in fact, care. About what? It didn’t matter. You could’ve had the most uninteresting day and suddenly felt impassioned to declare a protest to Them Bruins’ soundtrack.

Accompanied by a psychotropic light show and kaleidoscopic back-drop, The Demon Parade delivered a set of tunes that were perfectly suited to the visuals. Channelling the likes of The Brian Jonestown Massacre and the Stones of the early 60s, the group layed into tracks filled with swirling melodies and shimmering neo-psychedelic rock.

Drowning in bass-heavy undertones and searing chords, the performance was a surrealist trip that flowed out of the brim-filled cup of glowing fuzz and delayed vocals.

The Western Australian based garage-rock five piece staggered into the amber spotlight of the band room with a mild and casual aloofness. Heaving with the primal and pulsing sensibilities of blues-singed garage rock, the headliners roared through their set in beastly nature – completely untamed.

Living up to their name, the vocals of The Growl’s leader, Cam Avery, were appropriately and brutishly raspy,  grating against the grain of each track and perfectly overdriven.

The rendition of latest single ‘Liarbird’ was ridiculously charming; plodding along to an alluring chorus of hand-claps and snare lifts on the third and fourth beats, with the reverberating dry howls of Avery.

A cry of “The way you mooove” lamenting through a set of keys that sounded like they were being played on a century-old instrument, dusky and blurred in the best way possible.

The kind of music that makes you feel like you’ve been dropped into an over-crowded, hazed and balmy dive bar that scorches its way into the most unassuming of whisky-soaked souls.

The Growl barrelled off stage to heartened applause, humble guys with an affinity for making music that’s just as unadorned, but completely engaging.

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