I Got Wasted: PULP Reviews

At first glance, I got wasted inhabits all the washed indie sleaze aesthetics that have seemingly cannibalised Sydney night life, though a few moments spent within the mosh pit reveal what an encompassing image Allegra Pelluzzo has curated of our deeper music scene. A conglomeration of punk, electronic and indie rock, the party’s second iteration furthered the endeavour to revitalise dance, glitter and the sexy mess of a sweaty dance floor.

Ponzi Scheme on stage at Oxford Art Factory.

Alex and myself arrived late to the Oxford Art Factory; the dance floor was sparse and the first act still hadn’t reached the stage. I called my friend Jayden and he grabbed us to usher us into the green room. Remnants of each band lingered in there, with Allegra brushing past semi-frantically and full of energy Ponzi Scheme, a three person act from Newcastle, were getting ready to jump on—after their brief reminder ‘we go late, we pay, keep it in mind,’ they were whisked away. We stayed in the green room mesmerised by the promise of getting our tarot readings by Anseu, though half a song into the set we were drawn out of the little room by a punkish siren song. We turned the corner and saw the trio alive and swarmed with magenta lights. Kicking, jumping, a base, a guitar, killer vocals and a computer, the sound was idiosyncratic and incredible. They mixed the energies and big sounds of 80’s goth-jazzercise with experimental breaking, fast-paced electronic beats that continued to amass until they diverted back onto the punk vocals that grounded every song. The baseline of Cruelty stood out—I still heard whispers about the song hours later.

In the intermediary, we finally got our readings: my first card pulled was the queen of swords, Anesu called it her ‘bad bitch card.’ I resonated.

I noticed Verterbrae were on from the sounds of screaming. The stage at that point was murky, and I could only make out the silhouette of Flynn holding a megaphone. I manoeuvred into the centre of the floor for their song On and On, one I've heard many times before. Surrounded by the group’s regular roadies the lyrics were recited word for word; the song picked up, the pit opened rough and tough, everyone banging together under the red lights, giggles growing louder.

Flynn plucked some strings, a roar elicited, a new song I hadn’t heard before, harder, rockier, fun. The drums were quick, the guitars followed, harder, harder, harder until Jay’s drumstick broke. I escaped shortly after and retreated to the back of the floor.

From a band of four, two guys took over the stage next. Porcelain Boy are an electronic duo, one vocalist, one maestro: they conjure magic. Like The Hellp, their vocals are cerebral and dynamic—they move and enunciate in a way that provokes images to manifest in your mind, ups and downs, scattering and disintegrating, the only thing to do is close your eyes, whip your hair and dance. Jordan and Gordan (at least that's what they told me their names are) inhabited the stage, who I think is Gordan stood hips thrust forward, hand glued to the mic, Jordan hunched over his elaborate set up bopping to the incredibly heavy and synthy sounds he caused at the pushing of all his buttons. It seemed as if everyone was there merely to see them.

After the acts had finished but before the DJ came on, I sat in the greenroom beside Jay. Porcelain Boy entered almost bouncing with enthusiasm, ‘that was rock, that was real rock I haven’t seen a band like that in ages,’ they raved, grabbing and shaking his hand, ‘it was like, like the ___ and the teenagers.’

‘Thanks man.’

The DJs music seeped into the room, and as each of the bands entered this lovely dialogue of praise and camaraderie, it mirrored something similar I noticed in the main room. Good vibes, nice people, and everyone just happy to be in each other's company.

I finished the night dancing behind the DJ deck, getting kicked off the stage, dancing a little more, a cigarette or few and a brisk walk home in the cold, now covered in a warm blanket knitted of sweat, good music, a free beer and a great fucking night.

I might not have been wasted but I was certainly tipsy and that might be even better.