North Fremantle was sparkling on a Friday evening. Bellies full of Habitués drool-worthy tapas and one too many gin cocktails; we glided into Mojo’s content with no expectations.

We were knocked off our feet (figuratively); the iconic Fremantle pub was overflowing with loud-mouthed middle-aged folk. A balding man with fedora and guitar was finishing off what appeared to be a chilled set.

My friend and I were only familiar with a few of the Pierce Brother’s songs, hearing a snippet on Spotify I was intrigued by their raw emotion and organic sound. It should have occurred to me that the identical brothers distinctive Aussie twang and burly country image would capture the hearts of mum and dads everywhere. This didn’t bother us (well, besides the drunk pushing in the bar line, old folk not willing to share seats, and being called ‘love’ on one too many occasions.) One more cider? Yes please.

Thankfully support act number two brought some youthful energy, introducing the crowd to some serious synth and powerful loops. New Zealand multi-instrumentalist Reuben Stone took our breath away. Whipping out everything from trombone, bass guitar, beat boxing, and enchanting melodies. He truly was the king of funky, dubby, rocky goodness. My friend and I spent half the set staring at each other with jaws wide, “who is this guy and where has he been all our lives?” Sporting bright red overalls that showed off his hairy arms, Stone interacted with the crowd with confidence. His smooth set gave the impression of spontaneity but in reality it was a carefully crafted set that served it’s purpose of pumping up the already hyped-up crowd.

Minutes later the crowd erupted in applause. A sold out show and the first of the brother’s The Records Were Ours tour, it became apparent die-hard fans surrounded us. The brothers were just as excited as the crowd. We weren’t sure what drummer Jack took but we wanted some! They acknowledged the traditional custodians of the land and like an eight-year-old on Christmas morning, Jack gushed to the crowd about how much they had been looking forward to this moment.

It was cliché but they confessed they had really been looking forward to the Freo show most of all. The boy’s natural charm was hard to resist. After a bouncy crowd conversation, their energy erupted in a beautiful explosion of drums and guitar. The twin factor meant the two were in sync on a whole other level. Jack’s mane danced as he drummed on Pat’s guitar, then Mojo’s roof, railing, and back to the drum kit.

Every song told a different tale;

Genevieve, their sister’s cancer recovery, their dedicated fans crowd funding for her treatment on their own accord.

Take A Shot, a political song about everyone’s fave white wigged President Donald Trump.

Keep in mind, a beautiful ballad that slowed down the upbeat set. Although apprehensive to play it, it certainly showed off the boy’s diverse talent and emotional depth.

Highlights included their response to John Butler’s famous song Ocean, a spectacular symphony including a didgeridoo. Their hit Overdose was belted out in army like cheers, their simple lyrics meaning that the newer fans (a.k.a us) could still feel part of the team.

As the generous 90-minute set drew to a close, I was still awaiting my fave tune. The Records Were Ours (suitably the album and tour title) had to be played…surely. The brothers left the stage side by side; brown boots, tartan, and Pat’s sweaty dreadlocks.

Unsurprisingly the crowd couldn’t sit still for more than 30 seconds and a self-assured and slightly-loopy 50-year-old lady decided to take matters into her own hands. She grabbed the microphone and thanked the crowd for helping her find her wallet.

Both security and the brothers laughed along, anything can happen in Freo. The boys seized back the mic with a sigh of relief and let lose their best-known tunes. Still mind blowing, but their was nowhere for the boys left to climb – the crowd had peaked.

Leaving Mojo’s in a dazed surprise after meets and greets with the boys and Stone, we couldn’t help but gush just as much as Pat, we truly had caught the boy’s infectious energy. Dancing into the moonlight we couldn’t wait to share it with the rest of Fremantle.