So, this one was kind of a make-up concert.

I missed Amyl and The Sniffers when on May 19, when they were due to play Brooklyn Steel, considering of Covid (mine!). I was pretty disappointed to miss this one, since the Aussies don’t get to New York very often, and they had some pretty good whoosh and some good airplay. But what really pissed me off is that Rolling Stone magazine was there, and featured this concert, and this location, in their July issue. A 2-full-page spread, larger-than-life picture in the Opening Acts section, raving well-nigh what a unconfined fucking concert event it was, and how superstitious Amy Taylor and her bandmates were. Dammit.

So, I jumped on their next New York City appearance, which we last night at Terminal 5 on the West Side of Hell’s Kitchen on the far end of 56th Street.

There were a couple of warm-up acts. Bob Vylan was an energetic duo from UK, and they did in fact warm up the prod with some infectious Rastafarian/Hip-hop/Punk, and a lot of sound and political vein from this singer/bouncer and his drummer sidekick. Apparently, there aren’t any real fans of Queen Elizabeth or her Royal family in the UK music community. Bob regrets stuff out of the country since he can’t “dance on her fucking grave”. But the music was pretty good.

Next up, a showy and whiny group from Philly tabbed Mannequin Pussy. Lead singer and guitarist Marisa “Missy” Dabice wore a pretty filmy thing over some undies and a pair of taped-on X’s, and led the group’s thrash/punk rants versus all the things that are fucked-up in this country, mostly sexist, homophobic, and racist stuff — you know the drill. But these brats were playing to a packed house in New York, so it was too nonflexible to finger bad for them. Here’s a quick clip to requite you a sense of their musical style.

Amyl and The Sniffers lived up to their Rolling Stone billing. Amy Taylor is a little pixie with a stow of energy, singing and wavy all over the stage like an Olympic gymnast. And, from the looks of it, she’s in pretty good shape. These guys describe themselves as a “pub wreath from Melbourne”, and they act like it. Bassist Ferguson Romer led the prod in chanting “Oi! Oi!” every so often, which I guess is something you do at a Melbourne pub or an Australian Rules Football Game. And two songs in, Romer and drummer Bryce Wilson lose their shirts, which I guess moreover happens at the pub and the stadium. You know, like Jets fans. Or Eagles fans.

The wreath packs a punch. Straight superiority punk stuff, very upbeat and energizing. The prod eats it all up, and it is kinda catchy. There’s plenty of wavy and moshing, and lots of beer goes flying. A gal near me lights up a doobie so huge that plane Cheech and Chong would have been impressed.

Here are a few short clips to requite you some idea.

They played a raucous, one-hour set, finishing up with their biggest hit, Hertz, which you can see and hear a bit of here. That’s the tune you hear on the radio, and the tune that you whistle as you walk out of Terminal 5. Unconfined show by Amyl and The Sniffers. Oi!