Concert review: Amyl and the Sniffers | 06.12.26, The Factory (with photo gallery)

Photo of Amy Taylor of Amyl and the Sniffers by Laura Jerele

I’ll be honest. Walking up to The Factory for the Amyl and the Sniffers show, I had to ask myself if this scrappy, beloved Australian punk outfit who are indie darlings with a reputation built in sweatier, smaller rooms would actually fill this place? Like, actually fill it? Then I watched people pour in. And pour in. And keep pouring in. All the way up into the balcony, where people were already on their feet and refusing to ever sit down like they were already ready to lose their minds. My worries—gone. My heart? Full!

Amyl and the Sniffers are nothing less than full throttle. Full stop. And we need more unapologetic, in-your-face bands like this! The fact that they kicked things off Shania Twain’s “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!” as their intro song should tell you everything you need to know about this band. It’s a move that’s simultaneously hilarious, dead serious, and absolutely perfect. That’s the whole trick with them: they’re as much in your face as they are in your face about how you better be good to one another out there. The irony lands because the sincerity underneath it is totally there, the epitome of punk freaking rock.

When Amy Taylor sprinted out onto that stage, the roar that went up from the crowd behind me gave me actual chills. She is a badass and you cannot take your eyes off her from moment one. We’re talking about a woman who commits as she is gutsy, fearless, and so refreshing it almost short-circuits your brain. She ran the length of the stage all night, pretty much stopping only for a few sips of water here and there, pushing her vocals wayyyy past their limits, and that somehow made it all the better! Hamming it up, making quirky faces, she is super animated and a stunner. She’s a modern-day force of nature, part Iggy Pop meets the Runaways’ raw swagger, Blondie’s genius and snarl, and Surfbort’s glorious chaos all thrown together into polished madness. They sounded great, were loud as hell, the lights were wickedly bright and the cameras brought the crowd into the show all night, projected hugely behind the band. They barrel through songs “U Should Not Be Doing That,”  “Guided by Angels,” “Freaks to the Front,” and “Tiny Bikini.” It’s loud. It’s in your face. It does not stop. The band behind her? Locked in and having a ferocious amount of fun. It was nonstop high energy from the go. 

What makes it more than just noise, though (and it is so much more than just noise), is that there’s a real heart beating underneath all the sweat and volume. Songs that sure, they hit with the kind of weight that reminds you punk, but it’s also smart AF, ironic, catchy as all get out, and fun. Much to my surprise, the crowd that crawled out into the County knew every single word and sang loud, jumped up and down, crowd surfed and just simply let go. Like a punk rock congregation, the kind where everybody’s welcome (and I mean EVERYBODY), nobody’s judging, and the music is the religion. Worried they couldn’t fill a bigger room in the Lou?? Sheesh.  I’ll never have that thought again. | Laura Jerele