SWEET RIFFS FOR SMART KIDS

The first time we saw Hockey Dad tear shit up in the flesh, they were opening the side stage at a regional festival (the name of which escapes us) where the security guards propped against the barrier made up around a fifth of their crowd. This was long before their debut album Boronia put them on the map as one of Australia’s biggest and most ballistic indie-punk outfits, but regardless of the punters they were pulling (or weren’t), the Wollongong duo put on one hell of a set. They played as though their legion of fans spread far beyond the hills, each strum Zach Stephenson pummelled done with the passion of someone shredding out to a jam-packed stadium.