From the outside it looks just like any other suburban Canberra home. But walk inside, and there's already sweat dripping off the walls.
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A heaving mass of thrashing bodies courses through the living areas, while dozens more mill around the kitchen and corridors. People with beers in hand spill out the front door into the yard outside.
More than 100 people have crammed into the four-bedroom house, and at the epicentre of it all, in a claustrophobic corner of the living room a band is giving it their all, playing their guts out for the swaying mass. A body floats above the throng as a crowd surfer is passed around on a sea of hands.
Welcome to Canberra's underground house show scene - an organic, grassroots movement born out of the city's vibrant music scene and the shrinking number of venues left for them to perform in.
While house shows - a music gig in someone's house - have been a permanent, albeit inconspicuous fixture of the Canberra music scene for decades, they have become an increasingly important space for emerging bands as the city grows.
Years of urban infill have pushed previously reliable haunts out, while others have come into conflict with residents moving in. In some cases venues have struggled on, committed to providing a space for artists to perform, in others they have either closed their doors to bands or gone under.
Enter house gigs - suburban homes that transform into makeshift venues to fill the void.
Everyone knows what to expect at a gig in a bar, an arena or even a stadium. This is an entirely new experience.
Tonight's gig is at Lacklustre Records HQ, a stalwart of the scene, a slightly shabby looking O'Connor house.
Walk down the side alley and enter through the kitchen, pay $10 for a ticket and you're in. There's even a merch stand set up.
It has all the traits of a standard gig, it's just inside someone's home.
Walk further inside and it becomes clear that everyone seems to know each other. With dull music offering a steady backdrop, there is constant chatter as regulars of the house show scene catch up.
The house itself is small and unassuming. The bushes outside are overgrown, there's cracks in the ceiling and stains on the carpet. What these walls must have seen.
The living room has been emptied of the usual comforts you might expect; no couch or television - instead a remarkable assortment of amplifiers, subwoofers, instruments and all manner of musical gadgetry have been shoehorned into the tight space, most of it inherited from years of bands leaving odd bits and pieces behind.
Mattresses are pressed against the windows to muffle the sound. It's an unsophisticated yet impressive set-up.
As the Canberra band New Age Group take to the stage, the mattresses get a solid workout as fans begin to bounce off the walls.
A lot of the bands in the house show scene play punk rock and metal, or varieties in between. But acoustic and electronic also get a look in.
New Age Group is unbelievably loud. Once the music starts there's no moving - everyone is packed in like sardines as they start jumping and ramming into each other.
Jordan Leekspin and Connor Drum are two long-time organisers of the house band scene and run two of the houses with the biggest followings in town, Lacklustre Records and Crossroads respectively.
Coincidentally the two houses are a few metres from each other in the same street.
Crossroads has hosted shows since the early nineties, Drum says, with various housemates over the years passing the torch from one generation to the next.
"Hosting shows and keeping the scene alive is sort of part of the rent," Drum says.
It would be easy to think of these shows as a bunch of amateurs getting together to play to their mates in some guy's living room. That couldn't be further from the truth.
Lacklustre Records and Crossroads have hosted acts from the United States, Europe and Asia, and while the acts aren't household names, some certainly have a big following.
Leekspin says the house shows are often a stop over for an act that has secured venues in Melbourne or Sydney but want somewhere to play in the nation's capital.
One perk for bands is that, unlike at other venues, they collect 100 per cent of the night's takings from the door and the merch table.
"I don't think I ever made more than $10, like over the last six years probably cumulatively," Leekspin says.
"And that's including all the sales from doing records and tapes and that stuff too."
But for Leekspin, a music tragic, the house show experience has offered him a chance to live out a childhood dream.
At one stage he helped organise an Australian tour for American heavy metal band Full of Hell. That led to Leekspin travelling the country with one of his favourite bands and later touring with them in America and Europe.
"It has allowed me to do so much, that you would never otherwise be able to do."
Plenty of international and interstate acts have played shows in homes across the capital, and Drum says the scene is very much "a Canberra thing".
"Everyone in the room knows everyone else," Drum says.
It's not the case that new people aren't welcome at house shows, far from it he says, but by the scene being tight-knit it helps keep people and events safer.
And perhaps because of that, or coincidentally, both Leekspin and Drum say over the years of attending and organising shows they never felt anti-social behaviour was a problem.
The men say they've never had to call police, nor had police been called to the house due to complaints. ACT Policing couldn't confirm that claim.
While there's been endless debate about pill testing and drug use at music festivals, Canberra house shows genuinely seem to be about the music rather than getting off your face.
People are welcome to bring their own drinks, but Leekspin, who is "straight-edge" meaning he doesn't drink or use drugs, says in all his years hosting shows there has never been any overdoses he's been aware of.
"I guess the time itself, it's from 8pm till 11pm, like who wants to get on something for that time?"
"You just actually want to come have two beers, watch some bands, go home and go to bed."
The respectful hours kept by organisers has helped to stave off noise complaints. That, and the tireless work of the mattresses which do a remarkably good job.
Sadly everyone isn't always perfectly behaved. Leekspin recalls a few instances when things have been stolen from his home. Drum says one night someone stole a few books off his shelf which was confusing more than anything else.
He says despite the odd unfortunate incident, a night at a Crossroads or Lacklustre Records gig is definitely safer than a night out in Civic.
Leekspin says the crowd is responsible for creating an atmosphere of acceptance, where everyone feels welcome.
"I think women in music often feel uncomfortable just based on the sense that there's men playing, the room is men, so getting that representation of women on the stage helps a lot as well," Leekspin says.
"Someone in the audience who is watching can say look, I am obviously welcome here."
If you ask Drum, there's one issue that poses a threat to house shows remaining part of the Canberra music scene - development.
"I look at Sydney like a warning sign to the rest of Australia," Drum says.
"The wildly inflated property prices, the houses are smaller [than in Canberra], the lock out laws mean you have to find weird spots on the periphery."
He points to the nearby works associated with the light rail, such as the demise of the Northbourne flats.
"I see all of this coming to a point where my landlords are made lucrative offers for their land," he says.
"Once these kinds of houses are sold off, to build townhouses and apartments, we won't have anywhere to [host gigs]."
Drum and Leekspin commend places such as The Phoenix and Pot Belly Bar which do their best to host live music and provide venues for a variety of genres to be heard.
But they say Canberra needs more venues, available for all ages, that are safe and accessible for anyone to attend.
Until then, house shows will remain an outlet for many Canberra music fans, and it's something both Drum and Leekspin feel honoured to be part of.
"I grew up attending these shows," Drum says.
"They were really formative experiences for me.
"Sustaining and looking after a community I've been a part of for a long time definitely gives you a sense of pride.
"It would be a heartbreaker if they couldn't keep going."
Says Leekspin: "I'm a normal guy living in a house, I just feel so lucky. It could have been anyone who decided to do that, and fill that gap but it was me and I wouldn't ever change anything."