It was the first Friday night of September and footy finals fever was in the air, yet my mind remained on other things. I was seeing a band who would prove to be worthy adolescent reincarnations of the messiah who were also partial to some flirting in denim. Enter, Teen Jesus and The Jean Teasers.

Proud Tasmanian Bec Stevens was the first to grace us with her presence, supported by a band of five who oozed coolness and class. Soft red lighting beautifully framed Bec’s calm and collected aura, she held a steely and serene gaze with the audience when playing ‘They Don’t Make Cars Like This Anymore’.

Bec’s lyricism is astounding; she threads poignant statements into her bittersweet tunes such as ‘I can’t feed myself for weeks at a time’, and ‘these guys who talk to me are beautiful and kind but I can’t look them in the eye…’ then adding in quickly, ‘probably cause I’m gay’, which received excitable yelps from the crowd.

Her self-assurance on stage was heartwarming, however she still confirmed to the audience after our applause - ‘fuck yeah, I guess we don’t suck!’ She explained that the next tune was written by her pal James who she lost to suicide. James’ song had a slow build, with slight 80s synth undercurrents, yet then reached a powerful climax, prompting the bass player and drummer to sing passionately along with Bec. Her strength was palpable as she powered through one of the most emotional live performances I’ve witnessed.

Bec described her songs in a raw and lucid manner, prefacing another tune by announcing ‘this song is for anyone who is acknowledging all the things about them that suck’. I wanted to push my frame through the crowd and wrap my arms around her in a tight embrace. The crowd swayed and there was pashing, hugging, and grins - all we needed was love, a pint, and a whole lotta Bec Stevens. Bec and the fearless five then went out with a bang, not a whimper. I will listen to Bec Stevens over a cup of tea or maybe her Santa Clara coffee every morning. Either way, she’s welcoming me into each new day.

The boys of Royel Otis seemed to appear via a salute to Bob Hawke; Otis sauntered onto the stage whilst chugging down a beer. The synth player also sported a business on top and undercover party vibe; donning a blazer with a hoodie fastened beneath. The Sunnyboys of Bondi had arrived in style.

Otis introduced us to the world of Royel Otis by singing with conviction and total composure on his angelic, very Abercrombie and Fitch model face - yours truly was perhaps slightly smitten. They exuded a sound similar to that on New Order’s Power, Corruption and Lies album. The band’s second song started with slight rocky, almost country vibes, and accentuated Otis’ strong and measured vocal range, which I drew similarities to the dreamy voice of Methyl Ethyl’s Jake Webb. ‘Bull Breed’ saw the band having immense fun with comfort and ease. Otis performed an almost Madonna-Vogue-esque dance move and received vigorous crowd support. We all sang in unison ‘I don’t care what you say I still miss ya’.

The boys introduced a new song and extended gratitude to Teen Jesus for their hospitality, an act which transformed into Royel and Otis further demonstrating appreciation by beatboxing. The new track had a soft indie rock fused with a surf-punk sound. Otis also succinctly finished this track with a ‘woop’, for all of us woo girls present. Guilty.

‘Oysters in my Pocket’, emitting slight Class Historian by BRONCHO vibes, was a fun and upbeat last hurrah and one of the best songs I’ve heard live in a long time. Royel and Otis had a little pre-song face-off, locking gazes and placing supportive hands on each other’s chests - a beautiful thing. Otis’ vocal delivery in the band’s number one hit on Spotify was impressive - moving through verses in a quick yet sustained breath, featuring some yodeling and trilling. It was a pleasure seeing Royel Otis for the first and definitely not the last time. I would have oysters and hearty ales with these boys any day of the week.

It was a spiritual experience being introduced to Teen Jesus through a red curtain reveal as the opening riff of Metallica’s Master of Puppets played. Wandering blue and red lights illuminated the Amazonian warriors as they launched into a sharp opening. The set design and get-ups of the band reflected the Emily the Strange graphics noted on their Desk Chair single cover. King Anna appeared like a Siouxsie Sioux reincarnate and the girls sported black and red clothing, bluntly cut bangs, and very Daria-don’t-fuck-with-me facial expressions that were softened by their cheeky grins. Teen Jesus owned our attention.

Canberra’s answer to The Raincoats delved into their second song of the evening - ‘Miss Your Birthday’ - which encouraged a major sing-along. ‘Desk Chair’ saw Jaida and Scarlett’s awesome dancing rapport, meeting in the centre for a groove as regal purple lighting illuminated the riot grrrl royalty.

The diverse crowd mirrored Teen Jesus’ far-reaching effect; South Yarra girlies, fellas in fur-lined denim jackets, footy scarves, inner northians clad in black and stepping out in Salomons, and parents cradling Gin and Tonic’s with digital cameras slung over shoulders.

The fab four also demonstrated musicianship through polished transitions between songs. They were focused yet still playful and quite literally letting their hair down. King Anna assured us that our sing-alongs sounded tip top and - in a possible ode to Keira Knightly’s realisation of her beauty in the infamous ‘they’re all of me’ scene of Love Actually -  that our rosy-cheeked faces were ‘quite pretty’. The gang then treated us to a slower song and instructed the audience to grab someone we love for a sway. Anna and Jaida had a sweet Sonny and Cher moment, leaning on each other and sharing pecks.

They introduced a new song, which had a very Sixteen by No Doubt vibe, to our willing ears whilst basking in green lighting. Anna beamed from ear to ear when the crowd sang along to ‘AHHH!’ A cover of The Arctic Monkeys’ ‘I Bet You Look Good on the Dance floor’, which the gang cheekily attempted to advertise as an original, also exemplified astonishing musical skill.

The man with the iron-clad bucket hat, Royel from Royel Otis, joined the gang onstage for the ultimate fuck the patriarchy anthem - ‘Girl Sports’. The band room looked like a Renaissance painting; arms flying, people balanced on shoulders, strobing lights, smog, and a chorus of ‘fuck offs’ reverberating throughout the room. At the close of the song, pink paper confetti hearts sailed into the crowd. I’m sure this symbolised the return of all the hearts they stole - mine included - during their set.

They re-emerged for an encore, one song dedicated to ‘OG fans’ and then rounded off with a cover of Wet Leg’s ‘Wet Dream’, recently popularised by Mr Harry Styles yet mastered by Teen Jesus.

I’ve always envied those who witnessed the birth of riot grrl, but now I can say I’ve seen something even better - four powerhouses embracing love, life, fun, and goofiness on their first tour, which unsurprisingly is sold out.

 The gang bid us adieu with a ‘love you, see ya later’ and I hope they’re right. I want to invite them to every major life event and also over to my house to play Articulate and make focaccia, hopefully all in that order.

We had a last minute guest photographer fill in from our friend Genevieve who’s giving live music photography a go - see the gallery carousel below!