Bloody hell, where do you even start with The Chats? It’s a question that poses some degree of soul searching while at the same time appealing to some inner rebel instinct that we all have inside us.

Because this trio from Queensland don’t really care about much, apart from the ordinary stuff going on in their lives. And instead of writing songs about politics or love or Brexit they write from the heart. They write about pub feeds, they write about having a lunch break and they write about running out of bus money. 

In this new wave of punk they’ve gone in the opposite direction of pioneers like IDLES and stuck closer to the roots of their anarchist cousins from the 1980s. Hell, even the hair looks similar.

And all of that translates into a live show that doesn’t really care about much, as long as you’re having a good time. It’s fast, there are limbs flying everywhere and a fair few bottles of whatever takes ya fancy consumed but it’s all in the spirit of The Chats and how they like to go about things. 

There’s something pure and wholesome about this band to be found among the chaos of it all as their songs are delivered back-to-back-to-back with little pause, other than to ask how many people in the audience had the clap or a wank today and at 100 miles an hour.

Of course there’s Smoko, the song that launched this trio into internet stardom and Pub Feed and Identity Theft, the follow ups that convinced the masses that this band are for real.

Of course, of course they would finish with the song about how good VB is. As if the they haven’t proven themselves to be Aussie enough.

Shed rock is basic but when it delivers sweaty Wellington nights like this you wouldn’t swap it for anything.