And The Slingers, a group of rag-tag, swoon-worthy, romantic bushrangers, well, they refer to this modern age through dualities and dichotomies; an age of both “great compassion and crucifixion” of both “creature comfort and constant pain and numbness,” an overall age of loneliness.

I’m not really sure what we’re supposed to be at 24, but the headlining emotions seem to be confusion mixed with elation, randiness and disorientation. We seem confused about who we’re meant to like and love and where to channel passion, where to channel frustration, what behaviour to let slide, and what behaviour to criticise, but at least we’ve always got some gritty and rocky country music to sway along to as we stutter our way through the day.

The band’s transition to a new and temporary era also saw yours truly change her status from a previously uninvolved yet content gig reviewer to one with still inchoate powers, as I may have indirectly created a turn of events that led to Harry farewelling Australia in a fashion far from pure; by doing a shoey out of lead singer Kim’s Blundstone.

Whatever we find ourselves doing in this almost transitional state of purgatory, we are always propelled to move forward, step by step, by great love. And this is what The Slingers explore with gusto and grace on their singles from their first album, Sentimentalism.

Perhaps it was the two pints sitting pretty in my stomach, or end-of-week lethargy, or the deep thoughts that often follow exposure to late afternoon Autumn sunshine, but I found myself to be a very happy Vegemite following this punchy Punk pairing at The Gem. A festival-less weekend never looked so good.