Photos and words by: Ali Williams
There’s something gloriously wrong-right about turning up to a headlining rock show on a Thursday night. But when Hands Like Houses hit the stage at Mo’s Desert Clubhouse for their ‘Cheeky Midweeky’ appearance, the vibe turned Thursday into an unapologetic mini-weekend and Mo’s provided the perfect sandbox for the band’s expansive sound and punchy hooks.
Mo’s is one of those venues that feels like someone built a desert oasis inside a warehouse and decided to throw in a rock show just to keep it interesting. Fairy lights tangled with disco balls, murals glowing under stage strobes, and a crowd that looked equal parts beach-bum and band-tee-collector. It’s the kind of room where you can smell both surf wax and spilled beer, and somehow that combination just works.
Hardcore merch tees rubbed shoulders with surfers’ board-shorts, and the air tasted of salt-sprayed freedom and pre-gig anticipation.
The opening support , local act Rinser may have been crowd-warm but it warmed things to near-glow: keys floated above riffs, and the crowd was already nodding. By the time HLH hit the stage, the energy had been gently primed.
From the opening riff, frontman Josh Raven had the crowd eating out of his tattooed hand. He prowled the edge of the stage like he owned it — confident, cheeky, and clearly having the time of his life. His vocals cut through the room clean as glass, soaring one minute and snarling the next.
From the moment the lights dropped and the intro tones of their newer material rang out, Hands Like Houses took control with confidence. Still reeling from being fresh back from a recent support run with The Used on a UK/Europe tour, inspired them to bring that pro-tour energy to Burleigh Heads.
Between songs, Josh’s banter was light, friendly, and grounded — That kind of moment keeps you connected, and also reminds you these guys are Aussie at heart, even when the sounds are stadium-sized. There was something almost cinematic about it: the sweat, the strobe lights, the echo of a hundred voices singing the same chorus. It wasn’t polished, it wasn’t posed — it was raw, loud, and perfectly imperfect.
Hands Like Houses aren’t just back — they’re better than ever. There’s a maturity in their sound now, but without losing the spark that made them one of Australia’s most beloved exports in the first place. Their Mo’s Desert Clubhouse show proved they can make even a midweek gig feel like a full-blown festival.
