Sticky Fingers @ The Hi-Fi, 12th September
After getting the all clear to attend a gig the night of my Mum’s birthday (always love you, Mum), I find myself at The Hi-Fi with a bunch of friends. The alley that snakes its way down the side of the building is well habituated; cigarette smoke serves as added shadow between the shifty bartering and law enforcement officers seemingly turning a blind eye. All in all I wouldn’t have expected any other form of turnout for the touring garage reggae lads.
We walk inside to a sold out crowd who wait patiently as they are crushed into the front of the room, dancing and bobbing around each other; enjoying their chemical reactions, oblivious to the lack of music. After a couple of rounds of the joint’s cheapest beer, a few pre-empted screams from a particular group of women continuously mistaking roadies for the band, and an undesirable amount of sloshed ‘brooo’ dudes forcing their way to the front the lights start to dim.
Sticky Fingers look pretty fucking happy to be here and rightfully so; its only their fourth show of the tour and the crowd is going blissfully bananas at their presence. As if to calm the crowd bounding at their feet they open with Land Of Pleasure, which hardly sated the frothing animal we had collectively become. The night seems to slip through our grubby little fingers, the boys on stage play with the power of rock stars and I’m pretty sure I can see at least one fully grown man crying whilst reflecting on his teenage years as Australia Street bumps on through.
The set ends to a unanimous collection of man and woman alike belting out for more. My night ends in a flash of sing-alongs, smoke and being kicked out of the after party to some dude throwing his guts into the street both thumbs raised high. I’d like to think that image would make a good poster for the next tour.