Sometimes, being on a guest list can be a very humbling experience. Like when they can’t find your name or the band forgot about you, and then suddenly you look like the world’s pettiest con artist. Or when you confidently walk in and say, “Hi, I think we’re on the guest list” and get a, “There is no guest list” right back in your face. Yeah. Luckily, Sticky Mike’s intimate, dark, low ceiling setting is the perfect place to hide a blush. By the time Ivy King got on stage, I barely even thought of it anymore. With a Josh Homme-esque persona, a sample bottle of Desperados, and an intensely melancholic chant of, “All the things that I wanted to be…” these guys got the crowd nice and riled up for Golding’s set. Unlike so many other bands, it’s hard to know what to expect from them, as they climb up on stage. It’s a parade of decades, left to right. A sixties star child, playing lead guitar in colourful socks and a bandana; a seventies New York punk rocker with a leather jacket and a Fender Mustang guitar swinging from his shoulders; an eighties bass player in a trench coat and a baggy nineties drummer. The music hit hard, breaking rhythms up and down as the set progressed, leading into wild and dramatic changes. By the end, I was sweating and wondering how the bass player does it. If you get a chance, go see these guys live, the entry is well worth it.