When I was in primary school, I used to rush home every afternoon to watch Backyard
Science on ABC at 4 where they would conduct experiments and make fantastically terrible puns. Science Revue’s 2015 production Darwins & Dragons made me reminisce of the same nerds on the television who were able to share their love of science with light and great comedic timing.
The show was quirky, fresh, and whilst not always laugh-out loud funny, an enjoyable show. The recurring sketch encouraged the most laughs – the innocent punchline of Tim McNaught’s Mr X character, in his absurdist rage, trashing the stage whenever a reference to the letter X creeped into a sketch (set to the song “X gonna give it to ya”).
The show was well balanced with its incredibly talented team. Interspersed were videos by brilliant video director, Bruno Dubosarsky. The short videos had variety and were punchy in their execution. The show also boasted a gifted team of dancers, with visually stunning choreography and striking coordination.
Each show concluded with a rock opera detailing the story of Charles Darwin and his loyal best friend Lumpy. The jokes didn’t always land, but the energy of the cast was infectious, and managed to compensate for some hit and miss sketch endings.
Whilst on the topic of the cast, the choreography and vocals were flawless. Clearly the uneven benches in the Chemistry Lecture theatres hadn’t crippled the cast, with the parody of rolling in the deep with rolling the Dungeons and Dragons D20 die stealing the show. Also SURGfm’s very own Steph Ryan (from Flaw and Order on Mondays 1pm) rapped and it was incredible.
Directors Davis Murphy and Tim Andersen strung together a fantastic show, which was not only funny, but charming and bursting with talent.
I have no idea whether Backyard Science is still running, but I will definitely be at science revue next year.
Words by Maximus Schintler, Images courtesy of Max Schintler, Bek Davies, and Swetha Das.
If you’ve ever owned a hat, you’ll know what I’m talking about. The Engineering Revue, that starry famous event on the stupol/revue/drinking calendar for Sydney Uni students. Everyone knows the tropes, that is, that Engo Revue is full of punch-down humour, loud heckling from the lubricated crowd, crudeness, debauchery and nudity.
As a now fifth year student I felt it was my time now to attend the fabled Engo Revue, so it was with great ambivalent curiosity and fear that I woke one morning to see my notifications jammed with “Engo Aid” changing the name of their event and the event description. The show, up til this time, had been billed as “Queengeneers and Engobeers” and promised to be the usual hosh-posh affair of stick slapping, beer-greased mayhem we had all hoped for. And now? Well. The description informed us that the poor, impoverished Engo students had never had a good revue in their lives, and that the culturally affluent Bono-esque community of writers, directors, producers and actors from the Revue Community were coming together to put on a benefit show, a one-off spectacular of hastily-assembled skits and musical pieces.
At this stage it was abundantly clear that the talent was there, but with less than 72 hours to curtains-up, could they pull it off? They would surely need to use every weapon at their disposal, including the President of SURG FM. My well-placed sources close to the show told me that nearly the entire cast and crew of the original show had up and quit, sans reasoning and that the director of Engo Revue was left with almost nothing and found a plucky group of sleep-deprived creatives from the other Revues who had a glut of cutting-floor sketch numbers to mine and massage until show time.
Show night, 4:30pm.
Leave my house with a cool bag full of beers. Who can afford to drink at Courtyard anyway? Wearing a bobble-topped beanie I am stopped mere metres from campus by a crazy-eyed stoner draped red, head to toe, telling me that I have a “nice beanie.” I thank him and tell him I am enjoying the full red cloak he is wearing and he gently corrects me, saying, “it’s a poncho.”
“Nice poncho then,” I reply, and he smiles bashfully and says “it’s my mum’s,” before swirling off into the gathering gloom in a flourishing of red-mother-poncho.
On campus now and night is coming down fast. I enter Courtyard looking for my trusty Vice-President, Bek, but she is nowhere to be found. We had planned a full SURG FM outing to Engo Revue with other broadcasters but nobody seems to be here. The place is jam packed full of aspiring young corporates in chinos and collared shirts with the top button undone, all scoffing down craft beers and probably speaking of how many unpaid internships they’ve secured for the summer. Relax, smile, don’t let anyone know that you don’t belong here, turn the collar of your Belgian army coat to the wind, pretend you’re not walking around with a cooler bag full of Aldi beers and go chat pleasantly with the people at the wine tasting stall, then the craft beer tasting stall. See some Board Directors. One advises me to drink my beers here, while another says not to.
I retreat downstairs to the Holme Basement, pop the top off one of my beers and sit down to make some phone calls. Where the hell is Bek? And Jake, for that matter. They all ought to be here, unless someone tipped off their location and they’ve been seized. No. Bad paranoia. Facebook informs me that the meeting has been shifted to Hermann’s, so I powerwalk over there.
6pm. Darkness and the spiritual home, the true crowd.
Hermann’s is the true place for students. Always will be. None of the faux corporatism of Courtyard, none of the in-betweenness of Manning, unsure of whether it is a student or yuppie bar. I find my people, have a couple more drinks and we head over to Manning to start lining up for tickets. When we arrive we are among the first there, and for a short moment I mistakenly believe that the show may be cancelled, and that we just haven’t heard. Soon enough, though, the hordes descend from all parts of campus, converging on the front doors at level one, Manning House.
6:45pm-??? And now we play the waiting game…
We wait for what feels like an inordinately long time just chatting and speculating about whether the rag-tag cast and crew will Pull It Together in time. The crowd grows restless, unruly; one wonders whether a riot might break out before remembering who the crowd is. At last, they let us in, and none shall know how close the mob outside was to burning down Manning House. We are each presented with a drink voucher on entry, and the tone of the evening is clearly established. Is anybody still reading this?
Inside, milling around up the back and a twitter war with the Revue.
We get inside and immediately stake out some stools up the back of the room so as to be clearly out of range of the bodily fluids of anyone on stage. Bek buys beers, we exchange our vouchers for freebies, and Bek logs in to the SURG FM twitter account to start the heckling before anyone has taken the stage. Shots fired early, out on the front foot and good move too, we get a bite, as Keating said “this is the salmon that actually jumps on the hook for you.” We heckled them, they said “fight me.” We decided to fight the Engineering Revue the only way that seemed sane at that point: I had to infiltrate.
I had decided that in order to write a better review of the show, I would need an insider’s look at the cast, crew and sketches. The first half of the show passed by in a flurry of tight pieces from the band, who were really on their game, and sketches that were mostly too incomprehensible to follow due as much to their insanity as to the constant stream of people yelling “dick” and “kiss”. Intermission.
Second half of the show. My cue. Does anyone have a news reader script???
During the intermission Alex Mildenhall and myself snuck backstage with the intention of being in a sketch. She said to me, “Max we’ve got to get in the show.” I said “Goddamn, yes.” So there we were backstage and there was chaos. In the last sketch before intermission one of the actors had skulled a beer on stage, which we heard from Davis Murphy was a violation of Manning’s license and hence Tim Doran was getting chewed out behind the bar. We asked how we could get into an ensemble sketch and were told to try and find Tim. Failing that, I found a script lying around somewhere for the newsreader sketch and quickly grabbed it.
“Has anyone seen a newsreader script?”
I quickly turned away and ducked into the green room, and did not see Alex again, as she slipped quietly back to the audience. Inside the green room now and all was a chaotic flurry of activity – shirts being whipped off, costumes changed, scripts revised and directions given. “We’re trending #6 in Australia!” someone yelled, to our rapturous applause. “Let’s make it number one!” someone else called back.
Madness here. I took off my jacket and stood running over the lines of my script, although I was unsure which part I was playing. I was banking on the fact that the cast had known each other for little more than a couple of days to secure my plausible anonymity and prevent my being turned out to the harsh, barren world of the audience outside.
“Has anyone seen a newsreader script?” a woman in stage blacks asked the room at large.
“Right here!” I yelled, brandishing the crumpled piece of paper, “We can look on together with this one.” Next thing we were both looking over our lines and working out which voices we would be in the ensemble piece and then “shut up, shut up, mics are on!” came the call from the producer, and we were all silent as the second act of this cruel melodrama began. I was ready.
All aboard. Almost every star you see at night is already burnt out.
And then there we were. There were two cast members on stage for the first minute of the news reader sketch, rumoured to be the show’s longest. Then “go, go go go!” was the call, and my new cast member Friend/Partner and I were ushered on stage, script in hand, yelling the lines from our script. I could see members of the SURG FM community in the audience in shock, horror and hilarity responding to the unexpected presence of the President on stage. The sketch crescendoed and collapsed back off stage, while I ran from the green room back to our spot in the crowd. But it didn’t stop there.
Next, a gigantic set of PVC pipes arranged into a kind of xylophone were wheeled onto the stage and a pair of cast members played various melodies on them, thwacking the open tops of the swan-off pipes with thongs before breaking it down into a passionate rendition of Darude’s ‘Sandstorm’, joined by the whole band, then the PA system and an all-in dance party on stage which brought the audience to its feet.
Gripped by a moment of passionate insanity I felt my moment and sprung from my seat, sprinting full bore at the stage and leaping up in a single bound just as the curtains closed, a true Indiana Jones moment, only that I had no hat and once on stage I immediately had to avoid colliding with a member of the cast petrified with terror and confusion, before continuing my sprint to the stage-right wings where I found myself alone. The rest of the cast was either in the wings on stage-left or in the green room, also stage-left.
Stuck inside of Engo Revue with the Manning Blues again
So there I was, backstage with no friends and no clue what was coming next. I’d thought I was rushing into a big dance party on stage but instead I was alone in the wings. I cast around desperately for some kind of ballast – a prop, a costume, anything that would help me justify my presence and disguise myself from prying eyes. At first glance there seemed to be nothing except cables and audio equipment until I saw it, yes, a bear costume.
In that moment, I knew what must be done. As I buttoned up the bear onesie, a peculiar sense of calm flooded over me and I relaxed, ready for whatever would come next. Before the curtains could open to usher in the next sketch, I made another dash, across stage this time, and emerged in the wings opposite in front of a cast member with an uncomprehending look on her face.
“Don’t worry,” I reassured her, looking rather chunky in my bear suit with my heavy coat still on underneath, “I’m ready.”
Incredulously, she replied “ready for what?”
“Don’t worry,” I repeated, before assuming the look of intense concentration that I presumed all actors wore backstage. I bided my time, wondering and waiting and hoping that there would be an appropriate opening. Two or three sketches passed by, more shouts of “kiss” and “dick”. The nude sketch. The audience finally got their dick, bless ‘em.
“We’re trending #3 in Australia!!” Cheers. More shouts of “kiss” and “dick.”
Intense vibes, bad omens flashing through my mind finally an ensemble sketch came: high school rugby boys having a playground stoush, exchanging insults and whatnot. Difficult to discern the plot but another sketch, like the newsreader one, which began with two characters going back and forth before a swarm of ensemble cast members rush onto stage. Well, why not? This is as good a moment as any to skewer myself in a bearsuit in front of a raucous, drunken rabble of my peers. I joined the throng of rugby boiz as they swept onto stage, positioning myself at the back.
Looking out into the crowd I made eye contact with Steph, Swetha and Alex, and then Bek. Looks of disbelief, not wanting to accept the harsh reality of the show before them, control being lost, quickly… Where is the man in his mum’s red poncho, now? “Dick!” “HORSE FOR HONI” more inchoate yelling of absurdities.
On stage, once more, with a bunch of boys dressed like burly teen private school rugby players, me in a bearsuit feeling righteous and weird, on point for the vibe of the sketch. Yelling, making masculine grunting noises, easy to improvise for me. Then off stage again and feeling indisputably a part of Engo Revue by now, I joined the full cast on stage for the final musical sketch, waving wildly to all I could see in the crowd…
Hunkered down, final thoughts and reflections
EngoAid was not a show, so much as it was an experience for all involved either in the audience or on stage. It is a night that will live on in our memories long after we have become jobless grads or soulless corporate hacks. And I hope that in years to come we will recall fondly that this is what university life is supposed to be: unscripted, unplanned, chaotic and wild, a bit of fun, surrounded by friends and strangers – all of us just trying to muddle our way through as best we can with brash certainty that all will be well if we throw caution to the winds of Manning’s exhaust vent. Raising money for Engineers Without Borders, this year’s revue actually tried to do some good in what very frequently appears to be a harsh and unforgiving world; the show brought out the best, worst and weirdest in a wide range of people who pulled together with limited resources to do the best they can at the very last minute. If that isn’t the essence of the student experience, I don’t know what is.
Upon entering the theatre, we were each handed a single uninflated red balloon. Intrigued and confused, we wondered: what should we do, do we prematurely blow? It was a nice touch nestled amongst many others, from robots to sexy Mario and a rain of orange juice, that made up The Arts Revue: Sun Tsu’s Arts of War. Directed by power duo Alexander Richmond and Victoria Zerbst, it was clear that a lot of care, heart and soul had gone into the show. With a hiccup and a slow start to the first act, some sketches seemed under-rehearsed, particularly the musical numbers, whilst some jokes were overworked and drawn out. We had hoped for a happy medium.
An immediate uptake in the mood was introduced by Elliot Miller, one of the show’s standouts, whose comedic timing and slapstick expressions were a perfect contribution. His Bugle performance will be forever etched in Arts Revue history, leaving the audience in stitches and humming the Last Post well into the next week. From this point on it was clear this was a revue that would recover. Starting with the segway into transmission, 99 Luftballons gave purpose to the red balloons we had been clutching tightly in our hands. The second act proved sharper, more polished and generally the actors seemed more comfortable on stage. Though a couple of sketches left us shaking our heads and wondering why (spraying orange juice all over the stage didn’t seem to offer enough comedic reaction for it to be worth the clean up), and various jokes bordered on the insensitive. The costumes and set design, however, were handcrafted and simple, transporting the audience in a quaint, effortless manner.
Though individual sketches and actors added humour, light and enjoyment, overall the show felt as though it lacked a solid recurring message, theme or storyline. We felt as though it started off a little flat, but definitely came together throughout the second act, providing moments of light-heartedness, with satirical takes on serious issues of feminism and war that got the audience thinking. It definitely was the revue that recovered.
I’m really glad that I didn’t have to pay for my Law Revue ticket this year.
This isn’t because I didn’t get my moneys worth; in fact, it was a really great way to spend 2 hours of my Saturday night. As well as being part of the upper intellectual echelons of society, these students proved to the brimming York Theatre that they do venture outside the world of heavy textbooks, good looks and cashmere sweaters. They demonstrated their versatility on stage through their flawless vocals, immaculate choreography and Cate Blanchett-esque acting.
In line with the title of this year’s revue, the Midsomer Mergers AV sketch was brimming with hilarity and picturesque country shots. In fact, all the AV sketches of the evening were impeccable. The Legacy of Hayden Watson made me green with envy at his bodily movements, flexibility and ability to pull off a pair of tights. The cast also found great pleasure in defiling our current Government, some memorable quotes from the satirical The Killing Season, including Joe Hockey stating that “there shouldn’t be a GST on periods, they should be criminalized!” and that “parliaMENt has MEN in it for a reason.” Things got a little bit raunchy when the musical number “At Home with Tony” hit the stage, with Tony Abbott in a Hugh Hefner smoking jacket, belting that “this country is my play thing” and Hockey appearing again to Michael Jackson’s “Don’t Stop til You Get Enough” singing “don’t stop till you get a job” and “just sell your kidneys to buy a house” which really isn’t that different from what Hockey said IRL.
The vocals of the evening were also a highlight, my elation largely attributed to Hayden Tonazzi, who I could probably listen to for the rest of my life. The FIFA press conference acapella piece matched up to the likes of the Pitch Perfect girls, all I wrote in my notes during the performance was “fifa, amazing.” However, my favourite act of the night had to be the re-make of “Ice-Ice Baby,” turned “Gay Rights, Rights, Baby.” This number had some super PHR3$H rapping, cool grey-sweat-pant-costume-things and synchronised dancing, calling out the heterosexual, “semi-vegan feminist” allies to the gay rights movement, to ~check your privilege~
I began this piece saying that I was glad that I didn’t have to pay for my ticket. This may have mislead you to believe that the 2015 Law Revue was in poor taste, but really there was no correlation between my paying for a ticket to the quality of the revue. I’m just genuinely happy that I got to save 20 or so dollars on a humorous evening full of #banter and #lols.
Much like the irrelevant opening to this review, I found some… (many)… of the sketches to be irrelevant to… well anything. Some sketches were well done, the LinkedIn date – more like an ‘endorse my skills’ propagandist meeting, a commentary on the peoples obsession with the FitBit, the Socialist
Alternative’s obsession with “fucking wind-turbines,” and of course, Wally, from Where’s Wally’s identity crisis. But it also felt like a lot of skits were thrown into the revue to fill time; “I bought a Jeep”, Lucy’s long tongue and Yogi Bear.
The nude “skit” thoughtlessly ticked off an annual tradition, and was unfortunately super underwhelming. What wasn’t underwhelming though, was the band, who were killing it up on the top left corner. I personally thought didn’t get enough attention throughout the evening. Maybe next year they should stay naked for the entire performance. (?)
The 2015 Law Revue graced the Seymour Centre with a mildly humorous show, an extremely talented
cast and band and left me questioning the meaning of my existence and asking God why he disproportionately allocated all the talent in the world to the law students.
To be perfectly, gushingly honest, I loved this movie. So I’m going to try and take a back seat (coz that’s what we do in a cab, right?) ((lol)) and tell you a little bit about why it gives me the filmic happies.
I’ll be the first one to say it, Sydney sometimes pisses me off. A couple of years ago, this city and what it stands for pissed me off so much I ran away to Europe for 2 months, and while that was the best decision I could have made at that day and time, the expression ”I still call Australia home” rings true. Hollywood may try to make films about big, grand romances, but Australian films take the little story about the guy who doesn’t really stand out, and they remind us of how he is part of the human experience. We know him, and care about him, and we don’t need fancy graphics or stunts to open our hearts and minds. The Last Cab to Darwin takes this aspect of Australian cinema and just goes forth to hit you in the guts with it at every possible moment.
Maybe you have other things to do than listen to me wax lyrical about this film all day, so I’ve composed a nice little tl;dr list of reasons you should go see Last Cab to Darwin:
– Life and death is complicated, it’s human and real and everyone has to face it one day, so why not let Caton face it for you?
– Michael Caton is a babe (in that ‘Strewth, it’s the dude from The Castle!’ kinda way)
– Mark Coles Smith is a legit babin’ Indigenous actor who goes through one of the most recognisable but comforting character arcs
– For that matter, every supporting character is fleshed out and I wished everyone had more screen time
– There is love, there is racism, there is a DEAD CAT TREE
– A man called Rex, and a dog called dog
– More pub humour and puns than you can throw a dart at
– The most epic of picturesque road trips
– The soundtrack is nothing short of perfection, an ode to road trip tunes you could use just as easily for the drive down to Falls fest this New Years
And really, in a film about the controversy of euthanasia, don’t you want to know whether he goes ahead with it?
In short, I think this film holds a special place for me because it’s distinctly Australian without being stereotypically so.
Orange is the new blackboard – EDSOC REVUE, a review by Julia Robins.
With slight trepidation and not anywhere near enough wine I wandered off to Education Revue. No one wants to see a bad revue and then have to write about it afterwards. Thankfully my fears dissolved as suddenly as they had arrived. The darkness of the opening song about the government’s refugee policy had me laughing if only to stop tears that would otherwise have flowed. It trod a fine line between comedy and tragedy set to a Disney classic ‘Be Our Guest’. The songs throughout were at points a little weak but some of the best adapted lyrics I’ve heard from a review, especially the one about pulling an all-nighter, which felt like a window into my life. The band itself was a small set-up with excellent drums and sax, although it would have benefited from greater sound balancing and tightening up some pieces.
Video sketches felt reminiscent of Noel Fielding’s absurdist work, especially their roasting turkey sketch. Top sketch of the night was the advertising sketch for men’s deodorant for when you accidentally treat a woman like a person, and if the revue had called it a night there we would have all gone home happy. I’m glad they didn’t though, because there were so many other golden moments that were simply well written and performed with such sincerity that each moment was a delight. Other gems included Voldemort asking us to say his name, as well as the kindergarten hacks, an extended skit that may have hit close to home not just for students aware of the impending election season, but also for many active and retired hacks present in the audience.
As is expected with any revue, there were some flat spots, but only one joke that really met with contention: the sketch about the presidential election was a good concept but its execution which had suddenly changed Hillary Clinton’s politics to prolife felt a little cheap, especially considering how much there is to criticise her for. All in all the cast, crew and production team should be proud of a show that taught me the new preferred weapon for duelling is no longer a rapier or pistol but the selfie stick, reminded me how much we love our pets (even Schrödinger!), and how the ability to save a skit that goes awry, rendering it funnier in the process, all make for a great review. Much like the areas of education (and social services) as a whole in this country, these folks need more funding.
In 1999, a wee band formed in New Zealand’s Christchurch by the name of Shapeshifter. If you’re a true fan of drum and bass, dub and soul, you should have had an aurally intimate relationship with these guys. Inspiration struck Canterbury jazz students whilst at a DJ Grooverider gig and workings began on what was to become one of the most successful and influential New Zealand electronica acts ever. Shapeshifter found its feet opening for New Zealand band Salmonella Dub, who at the time had Tiki Taane mixing their live sets. Tiki now produces Shapeshifter’s live shows. 2000 saw the release of their first EP, D.N.A, released by Christchurch record label, Fabel Music. Shortly after, came their debut album, Real Time. After the success and touring of this album, the band shifted to Melbourne, where the based most of the production for their next record, Riddim Wise. With the release of their next two LPs; Soulstice and The System is a Vampire, Shapeshifter toured extensively throughout Europe and Australiasia, becoming a staple dish in the New Zealand summer music menu. Shapeshifter have recently finished touring for their latest album, Delta and are now embarking on an Australian tour before heading to North America. I caught up with P Digsss, the MC of Shapeshifter to talk about New Zealand music, Delta and their upcoming tour.
– Ben De Klerk
Shapeshifter will be playing Manning Bar on Saturday the 22nd of March supported by Foreign Dub, NCrypt vs Commit, Highly Dubious, Mad Cow, and Sakura. The show starts at 9 pm and goes until 3 am. You can buy general access tickets from the Manning Bar website, or if you are an Access holder, you can get a discounted price from the Access Desk in Manning.
A couple of weeks ago SURG was lucky enough to head along to the last leg of Sydney electronic trio Rufus’ sold out tour at the Hi-Fi, in support of their debut album ‘Atlas’.
Kicking off the night was Canberra 3 piece SAFIA. Despite the early set time and a room dotted with punters, the boys put on a show to rival that of the headline act. Sitting pretty at number one on the iTunes electronic charts as of that day, the boys proved just why they’ve been the centre of attention of late. Their set, that included their previous single ‘Stretched and Faded’ and current number one track ‘Listen To Soul, Listen To Blues’, was also filled with some high-quality unreleased material that we’re sure will be making its way onto our radios any day now. SAFIA’s on-stage energy mixed in with their infectious beats makes them a force to be reckoned with and a great start up act (although we’re pretty sure they won’t be keeping that title for much longer).
SAFIA were followed by a super smooth transition into the beats of Adelaide producer, and now Sweat It Out brother, Motez. After not making it to Rufus’ Adelaide shows due to poor traffic, we were glad he didn’t suffer the same fate with the notorious Friday night Cleveland street rush. His set was the perfect breaker between the two live bands. Getting everyone away from the bars and turning the mosh into a dancefloor for a half hour was exactly what everyone needed. His new signing also brings the promise of some new original stuff – our ears are definitely pricked and waiting for that one!
Following a final stage check the Rufus boys appeared in a sea of blue light for the last time on their Atlas tour. Opening with ‘Modest Life’, the crowd both on the floor and up above roared in support. Their distinctive synth, most pronounced in songs like ‘Tonight’, bounced out and spread through the space, delighting everyone’s ears as it did. Their two singles from the album, ‘Take Me’ and ‘Desert Night’, were met with a euphoric wave through the crowd, filling the room with an energy that had people dancing from wall to wall. Joining the sea of facesNot only were their performances spot on musically, the dedication to making it a unique experience for all who went made them a stand out act to watch. Treating the crowd to extended harmonica bridges in ‘Talk To Me’, a stellar light show and an on-stage accompaniment by Toucan lead singer Jess Pollard for ‘Unforgiven’ made it a truly unique show. Plus, on top of all that, the fact that they seemed to be having a genuinely good time performing and engaging with the audience made it so much more than just listening to songs from an album.
The only disappointing aspect of this night was the after party that was supposed to encapsulate the whole experience, held and Club 77 following the gig. Playing alongside Rufus DJs were other SweatItOut signees Yolanda Be Cool, Sydney producers What So Not and Motez made another appearance as well. However it appeared that a consequence of prolific advertising on their social media sites, combined with a low entry fee and small capacity resulted in a nightmare scene for many hopeful partygoers on arrival. The line to get into 77 stretched down more than 100m past its entrance and no more than 40 minutes after the show at the Hi-Fi had finished all those waiting were told to leave as no one would be allowed entry for the rest of the night. Even though there really wasn’t anyone to blame (except maybe Rufus for being so overwhelmingly popular, or SweatItOut for throwing such a tempting afterparty) it was a real dampener for what was otherwise a ridiculously good night of live music.