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Tonight is another journey in to the past. Back to the eighties when Australia was caught in a sixties psychedelic, garage revival. When bands like the Hoodoo Gurus, The Scientists, and the Lime Spiders were all the rage. A time when long hair was in. Not the hair sprayed, bouffanted Motley Crue type hair, but the straggly, 'I sleep on the floor and dry my hair by hanging it out the car window' hair. The look of the day was a paisley shirt, black stovepipe trousers (holes optional), and pointy boots (holes optional). Sometimes these people were called swampies, but I don't think they liked it.

The Lime Spiders had a reputation for raw, garage rock, and they made a big impression in their day. They did well in the independent charts and signed to a major label, They were even banned from Brisbane's radio station 4ZZZ because the militant feminists in charge at the time considered the song Slave Girl be derogatory to women. It was Queensland, it was the eighties, and not everyone got the joke.

When I walked in to the Annandale I was accosted by a strange man who was sure he knew me. I was in no mood for odd people and their delusions, but I pretended to be his friend so he would leave me alone. This calmed him and he gave me a waxy square of cardboard promising me it would be 'fantastic'. I decided to take a chance. Surely something so small couldn't harm me.

The Vital were the first band on and they played a fairly unexciting set, but it was still entertaining for those there early to indulge in the hot, claustrophobic Annandale atmosphere. We found out later The Vital's front person was a relative of the Lime Spiders front person, so at least the rock'n'roll tradition is being kept alive in that family. The Ride On came on next and although they may be competent musicians they were missing and important ingredient in their MOR rock -- humour. If I want to watch a band be serious and pretentious on stage, I will go to a jazz club or U2 concert.

The crowd continued

to swell and, by the time the Lime Spiders were ready to come on, The Annandale was packed with middle aged punters ready to relive their hedonistic youth, and a handful of younger souls waiting to see what all the fuss was about.

The Spiders, less stylish, wider of girth and shorter of hair than in their hey day, hit the stage to a rambunctious reception. Sadly the excitement of the crowd was not matched by the excitement of the band. The Green Arachnids seemed unenthused on stage, with rarely a smile or glimmer of excitement. Singer Mick Blood was not the animated front person I remember. Only the drummer seemed to be enjoying himself and he threw himself in to the gig, sticks flailing and providing backing vocals with glee. In fact, the drummer's performance was the best thing about the night.

The Spiders did redeem themselves a little when, three songs in, they played one of their defining tunes, Out Of Control. That song lifted an already high crowd higher. This was topped when Slave Girl, introduced as an obscure number our brothers and sisters might have told us about, had the crowd bouncing as one. I'm sure I could feel the floor move under the combined mass of the enraptured punters. No mean feat on a concrete floor.

The band was tight and the songs flowed effortlessly, but they still played like they were just going through the motions. Singer Mick Blood's vocals have reached a new level of roughness. Either he has been drinking too much bourbon or he has been practising the little known art of wood rasp swallowing. The newer tracks blended well with the older songs and the covers, and even the crowd liked them. In fact, the crowd liked everything the band did. Maybe it was just me who found the performance lacklustre.

I don't even remember the end of the gig. One moment I was there watching the band, and the next I was watching the sun rise from the Opera House. What happened in those missing hours? Why was there an eye drawn on the palm of my hand? And who is Dutch and why does he keep texting me?