If you’re only planning one more comedy outing this festival, make it the Australian trio Tripod. Yon, Gatesy and Scod share an abundance of talent. One minute I’m so taken by their vocal stylings, I forget how funny they are; the next minute I’m hanging on the humour so much I miss an exquisite musical moment.

The evening starts with silence and a single light glowing expectantly on the middle mic. On slopes Tripod, 3 lads standing in a line, 2 with guitars, the little one without. Unassuming, they slip straight into song. Ah heaven. Even the autistic guitar solo (a song about autism) is strangely not that bad.

To begin with, we are that typical Kiwi "laughing-on-the-inside" sort of crowd, and Gatesy is right to mock us, but eventually we break free from the shackles of politeness and start interacting with them. So much better than being quiet!

The yarns between songs may appear blasé, in fact at times they morph into discussion groups, but each link is deliciously crafted, to aid the next number.

Near the top of the show they quip ‘thanks for sharing your celebrities’. As usual, they’re happy to own Peter but we get to keep Russell. Darn. Claiming Pete leads nicely into "Get to the F***ing Monkey." (God, yes!!) I hope these guys make it to Wellington when they return.

Yonnie is particularity fabulous to watch when he’s upset – long straight symmetrical arms articulating his frustration perfectly during this number. Plus the various things he does throughout the night, as if to compensate for his lack of guitar cred, are highly entertaining: he claps, dances, clicks his fingers frantically, sings M*A*S*H, and wiggles his arse…. Just don’t ask him to dance in the style of a monkey.

But it’s all about the songs. They’re marvellous, quirky, every one in perfect harmony. After the monkey movie they sing about the tall bloke, the duality of men, sensual transmission, the lingering dad (outstanding, including the drawn out coda), the hotdog man, the futility of war (who would’ve thought there’s a place for jazz hands in a protest song)… They round it all off with a short song about shorts… Oh bugger. The show’s over too soon.

These men are exquisite musicians: vocal control, harmonies, the breathing, phrasing, crescendos and rallentandos are all magnificent. The bunker-cabaret environment of the Transmission Room and the sensitivity of the audio operator combine to provide the perfect vehicle for their craft. 

When you head to their show, remember to take pots of cash or credit so you can buy up large at the merchandising counter after the show. I’m saving my pocket money and hope to make a second show, before they finish on Saturday 3 June.

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