White plumes of smoke rose before open mouths on a frosty Saturday night
outside the Hordern – distinguishing smokers from non-smokers was no easy feat.
Inside the foyer, light fingers made even lighter work of withdrawing cash from
pockets as patrons partook in an illustrious alcohol exchange or, for the minors,
a sugar trade of Coca Cola sans rum. The general hubbub of conversation carried
on through to the heart of the vicinity whereby spectators gathered in
contingents as they waited for tardy friends, escorted by the light of their
mobile phones.

Diffused in lights of ocean blue and subtle crimson, Australian rockers
Little Red stimulated excitement by way of their upbeat “wop-doo-wop” melodies
and tambourine hits, charming the pants (and skirts) off all involved.

The
charismatic five-piece from Melbourne pushed out a slew of tracks; their sound
an amalgamation of The Beach Boys and The Beatles, which served well in
generating lashings of head flings and hip sways. She’s Not The Only One bore
witness to all vocalising members working their pipes in perfect harmony to a
retro jukebox beat. Recent release Rock It with its infectious keyboard notes
opened the floodgates to what fast became a carefree dancing orgy, while the
cheeky bass line of It’s Alright left naught but a smile on the faces of those
who were positioned up front.

The undeniably buoyant guitar twangs of Coca Cola
rounded out the boys’ set with contagious handclaps and lyrical echoes from the
crowd. Little Red possess the uncanny ability to sufficiently spawn a sea of
boogying bodies, aptly lubricating spectators on all dancing levels to produce
a lively performance that is the embodiment of pleasure and fun.

The intermission saw the usual cacophony of voices and excited yelps filling the venue as more
punters filed into the vicinity in anticipation for the UK headliners.
Navigation was marred somewhat by the slippery, beer stained floors, but many interpreted
the spilt beverages as incentive to purchase more.

The slow ascent of a colossal banner on stage splashed with the word
Kasabian in thick red letters opened the second act, accompanied by the famous
musical score from Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange for added dramatic effect. In
seamless succession, the familiar ripping chords of Shoot The Runner instantly
resounded throughout the room to which the audience responded with absolute
pandemonium. No man was left untouched by the jumping efforts of the crowd who
seemed to inject themselves with a boost of vigor as the song worked its way
towards the chorus. Following on, Underdog was received with absolute rapture
as punters began lifting each other on top of shoulders.

“Oh, fucking Sydney!” – it was all front man Tom Meighan could say to
keep up with the enthusiastic patrons. Where Did All The Love Go? And Thick As
Theives were received with just as much intensity; the trumpet solo in Take Aim
triggered off a chorus of loud whoops and yells. The band need not have sung
for it seemed the audience knew every single word. The Doberman offered a temporary
respite from the impassioned moshing as sweat, having rained down in buckets, were wiped away with the back of hands or the collar of damp shirts. Whatever
energy that may have been put slightly to rest, Stuntman unleashed it again.
More punters borne atop sturdy frames and whipping off shirts only heightened the
atmosphere. With Club Foot as their final song, the English boys left the stage
to ecstatic hollering and applause.

Given the vivacity with which the crowd lapped up Kasabian’s
performance, there was no doubt that there was an encore to come – but not
before the entire vicinity was humming the tune to Fire. A collective thrum of
voices joined forces to recreate the crowd-pleasing melody which reverberated around the room. It seemed all too quick before the band came back on and
satisfied the audience with that very track. An ocean of hands were thrown in
the air as the chorus kicked in, Meighan ad libbing “Australia”, “Sydney” and,
of course, an expletive in amongst lyrical lines. Chaos took the place of
sanity (as if there was the existence of any to begin with) as Kasabian
continued on with Vlad The Impaler, finally rounding out the evening with
L.S.F.

Melted faces appeared from the gloom as house lights were switched back
on. The end of the gig did not dishearten the crowd however, who continued to
sing and yell lyrics from the top of what can only be overworked and exploited
lungs as they made the leisurely-turned-jovial trek from the Hordern out into
the brisk night, their spirits soaring high in more ways than one.

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