Live Review: The Foundry Re-Launch: Dune Rats, Palms

The spirit of community hangs heavy in the air at the freshly reopened Foundry tonight, early arrivals to tonight's industry-centric re-launch festivities treated to a surprise set in the Foundry Records shopfront from local singer-songwriter Benjamin Forbes, aka Banff. He treats the mingling crowd to an appropriately stripped back set of dreamy, easy-listening tunes that — somewhat unfortunately — mostly provide the backing to the excitable audience's familial conversations. Regardless, he puts on a sublime performance, and proves an excellent demonstration of Foundry Records' future versatility as a live venue.

Upstairs is where the real party starts, though, with Brissy-bred Major Leagues breaking into their set with an airy, laidback tune before giving way to sunnier vibes, all upbeat jangle and lilting guitar. It's a tight showing from the stalwart four-piece, though they fight against the still unsettled attention of the arriving crowd. In everyone's defence, though, those food trays are kind of impossible to ignore. Lots of people are very focused on the fried chicken wings, and if Major Leagues were down here in the audience right now, they would understand.

It's less of a problem for local supergroup Orphans Orphans, who — affably aided by the ragged charm and beguiling mullet of frontman Spencer White (also of Morning Harvey) — ensnare the front section of the room with ease, the experienced five-piece drawing on their considerable pedigree (which also features bands such as The Jungle Giants, The Belligerents, Moses Gunn Collective and others) to keep the retro-soaked rock coming. The quality of their tracks, especially highlights such as What's A Boy S'posed To Do, give rise to the question: how do these people manage all these bands?

Sole fly-ins Palms may stand out a little as being the only act tonight hailing from south of the border, but they're not treated with anything approaching contempt by the now well-sated, wholly enthusiastic audience. The nominal outsiders in the room utilise the social and alcoholic lubrication to their fullest advantage, pulling us in with a raft of sassy guitar licks, driven percussion and craftily melodically and rhythmically balanced bass, truly hitting their stride on tight — but not too tight — standouts such as the uplifting, danceable Love. Come back any time, Palms.

Following a short technical delay with a guitar amp — which may explain the recurrent feedback issues tonight's players have been suffering — local larrikins Dune Rats get their substance-fuelled set under way, tipping their hats to their manager, who made the flight back from Bali to be here for them tonight, despite a bout of diarrhea and having recently ingested "two big lines of cocaine". No time to worry about bowel problems, though, as the onstage trio launch into a relentless, abrasive stream of don't-give-a-fuck rambunctiousness, the room an appreciatively heaving mass through Dr Dr, Dalai Lama Big Banana Marijuana, Superman, Red Light Green Light and everything in-between. Consider the ceremonial champagne bottle well and truly smashed in this re-christening — and the contents vociferously lapped up. Triple j host Dom Alessio takes over DJing duties to entertain the hangers-on, but The Foundry has victoriously made its statement of intent here tonight, and it's an exciting one at that.