Live Review: Going Swimming, The Mighty Boys

Tonight's rowdy mood is set by The Mighty Boys, who take such great pleasure in smashing out garage-punk tunes on topics such as picking up prostitutes and getting shitty blowjobs that the mood's infectious.

Going Swimming enter the fray with Sluts Who Stole Our Palm Tree, a face-melting ode lamenting the unfortunate disappearance of their inflatable palm tree at the hands of some folk with questionable sexual morals. Thus, Old Bar is thrown into Going Swimming's very own ocean – the surf report is choppy, unrelenting-as-fuck and held together by a sonic web of distortion, delay, reverb, tremolo and whammy bar. Frontman Nicholas Leggatt is as animated as ever up on the kick drum, shaking his arse by the second song as copies of She Hates Sports (the single they launch this evening) fall over the crowd like confetti. Leggatt jovially abuses the crowd and punishes every syllable that comes from his mouth with brutal snarls, screams and yelps, in tandem with some deep, deep Nick Cave-esque creepiness/sexiness. His bandmates are in wicked form too, guitarist Aswin Lakshman and bassist Callan Trewenack (who is also responsible for the brilliant artwork on all of GS's releases) sandwich Leggat and assault the crowd with cool “ooo”s and wild-gang vocals. Ben Barclay simply does not stop on the drums. Songs off the fantastic Shark Attack EP feature throughout this powerful set as well as the band's previous singles. RCB, an oldie but a goodie, epitomises some sort of acid-infused, Big W-purchased, boogie-boarding nightmare in 20-foot swell – it is absolutely wild. Devo's Uncontrollable Urge is covered with significantly more balls.

Going Swimming's “biggest fan, in their smallest shirt” graces the stage to take up tambourine duties and She Hates Sports is unleashed on the crowd. Consistent in quality with Going Swimming's previous releases, it rocks and makes you want to boogie while sounding like the kind of song that your dad would hate (if he were a backwards 1980s patriarch), but your more liberal mother would enjoy dancing to in the living room recalling Elvis and The Beatles. It ends in chaos.

Although the “perfect closing line” eludes Leggatt as Going Swimming close their set, perhaps the fact that he simultaneously thanks and abuses the crowd IS the perfect finish for this thoroughly enjoyable performance.