The air is nippy walking into Brisbane's The Tivoli.
The city's been cold and mean this month, and while this old theatre's lit up like a furnace, it's also a wee bit chilly inside. I know that won't be for long.
The way the fans are piling in, these bodies are set to make the venue a hot and steamy winter haven. Let's just say the smell of damp denim, spilt beer and cheap cologne is on the free olfactory menu this evening (6 August).
Wayside are easing us in with 'Safe Forever', letting it bloom before punching our ears with 'Room 22' with a tight, tense energy. Thomas Davenport (vocals) and Josh Ehmer (guitar) are up front and locked in, backed by a powerhouse touring drummer and a female bassist who looks way too familiar to not be someone from another Aussie act I've caught before.
The room is being held captive through 'Lean Into It' and 'Can You See It', tossing between soaring moments and gritty edge. 'Shine (Onto Me)' floats with raw emotion, fans in the crowd throttling their throats to be heard alongside the band.
'Half Nelson' rips things right back down to the bone. They close with 'Parallax Error', lurching into the feedback-soaked ending like they've torn something open and left it bleeding onstage. Impressive.
Wayside - image © Clea-marie Thorne
We aren't kept waiting long before Real Friends switch gears, but in no way are they softening the blow. Bursting in with 'Late Nights In My Car', they lean into that emotional grit they wear so well. Cody Muraro (vocals) throws his whole chest into it, arms wide, eyes fierce, gripping the mic like it might be the last one on earth.
The crowd's already feeding off it – 'Mess' and 'Waiting Room' hit hard, fast and tight. Dave Knox (guitar, vocals), Kyle Fasel (bass), Eric Haines (guitar), and Brian Blake (drums) punch every line with intent, no passengers on the Real Friends bus baby.
'From The Outside' and 'Our Love Was Like A Sad Song' dredge up all the emo heartbreak-energy Brisbane's been bottling up for years. The floor is thick with people shouting like it's therapy.
Real Friends - image © Clea-marie Thorne
'Cold Blooded' gets the fans thrashing hair or shaved heads intensely, then rocking back and forth during the lull. The thrashing urgency in the mosh continues.
Muraro has to be one of the most enigmatic frontmen when it comes to mixing it up close and personal with fans. From reaching out and taking to the barrier to sing 'I've Given Up On You', to braving the clutches of diehard fans while going into the centre of the crowd to sing to fans individually, inciting a call and response.
What a moment. Such connection. Such love. He offers us a five-minute break before taking back the stage. We don't need the break and neither do the band. 'Summer' lands like the anthem it is, every lyric coming back at them louder and louder.
'Six Feet' and 'When You Were Here' bind the pit into a shared ache, encouraging crowd surfers to give it a go and telling the pit to get wild; both instructions are taken to heart. What a riot!
Real Friends - image © Clea-marie Thorne
They wrap with 'Me First' and 'Tell Me You're Sorry', ripping open the pit one last time before disappearing in a blur of smoke haze, guitar straps, and no doubt a lather of perspiration but nothing like the sweat that is dripping from the moshers on the floor.
Silverstein storm the stage like they're 25 and just starting out, not 25 years in. Shane Told (vocals) is grinning like a lunatic and not missing a cue, cutting through the chaos with whip-tight screams and smooth melodic punches.
Paul Koehler (drums) however, didn't get off to the smoothest start in the first song with a runaway drum and dropped stick; deftly replaced, I might add. They launch straight into 'Skin & Bones', before belting through 'Confession' and 'The Altar/Mary' without so much as a baby breather.
OG members Josh Bradford (guitar), Koehler, Told and Billy Hamilton (bass, vocals) are locked in tight, with Paul Marc Rousseau (guitar, vocals) bringing sharp tones and a second wind of energy to every chorus.
Silverstein - image © Clea-marie Thorne
'Infinite' is slamming. 'Bad Habits' has people hanging over the barrier, yelling like they're trying to shake off ten years of built-up regret. 'The Afterglow', 'Aquamarine', and 'A Midwestern State Of Emergency' turn the pit into a swirling, stomping mess. There's shoulder rides, crowd surfing and a relentless mass of flailing limbs in the pit.
There's a tear-up sing-along during 'Massachusetts' and 'One Last Dance'. While 'Sacrifice' and 'Vices' shredd like it's 2009 in someone's bedroom jumping on a king single with the volume maxed out.
Told picks up the electric acoustic and 'The End' rolls out with full weight. Fans are bleeding the lyrics towards the stage. The vibe is so emotive it's goosebump raising. Then 'My Disaster' hits and everyone's hands are in the air. Jaws of fans must be aching at this time, so many open mouths and roaring voice boxes.
Told provides much of the clean singing and screaming, while giving Rousseau and Hamilton plenty of solo vocal moments at front of the stage, or harmonising together with Told.
Silverstein - image © Clea-marie Thorne
'Your Sword Versus My Dagger' goes off. 'Call It Karma' drops and someone up the front starts crying, hugging strangers. 'Smile In Your Sleep' brings the roof down. They disappear, then Told first creeps back for the encore.
He tells us how he gets a different guitar each time he does this song, spending some time checking it out. He's sung this song, Told continues, at their last three shows, throwing down a vocal challenge to Brisbane fans.
We get the low down that Adelaide was not in the running; while cute, they were pretty quiet. Sydney was louder and Melbourne's effort huge. Encouraging us to sing as loud as we can he picks the first notes of 'My Heroine'. As it's stripped back and acoustic, our voices can be heard clearly above the speakers. Yep, it's just Told and a few hundred punters singing like it's life or death.
Told confirms they've designed the set to give full representation of every album including their debut EP. "We've got two left, Brisbane! Are you in? This one's called 'Smashed Into Pieces'!" They slam the pit shut after one more round of complete chaos with 'Bleeds No More'. I fear there may have been some accidental scraps and a little bleeding as is tradition in a mosh pit.
Silverstein - image © Clea-marie Thorne
All the band members stay onstage handing out sticks, picks, set lists and whatever else they could find to give to their fans. Told was the last off stage soaking in the adoration and gifting the last of the picks to diehard fans refusing to the leave the venue without their personal moments.
No speeches, no overcooked sentiment. Just song after song, sweat pouring, lights blinding, guitars howling. Walking out into the night, jackets zipped and voices shot, punters are already shouting about that breakdown in 'The End'.
The Tiv's feeling like basilica for the broken-hearted tonight – loud, sweaty, cathartic, real. Still loud, still raw, still punching holes in the dark, Silverstein at 25 are not limping toward legacy but tearing through it sideways, bloodied and burning. This ain't a victory lap. It's a demolition.
More photos from the concert.
