With DVD’s becoming affordable and dirt-cheap these days, it allows nearly everyone to either buy or create their own account of things.

This can be a good thing as talented, financially restricted people can produce their masterpiece; but on the other hand, it can bring out some real fodder in the process.

As Johnny Knoxville and Bam Margera amble on stage at The Hordern to announce the coming of the “Hometown boys made good”, amongst the euphoria of screams and wails from the Sydney audience, there is an instantaneous feeling of something…off.

Unfortunately, this feeling is all too apparent when Dimension kicks off. Wolfmother are one of those bands that can either rock as hard as their peers such as Led Zep and Black Sabbath when live, but also limp along in a manner that Sabbath’s infamous singer now does when not complaining about dogs defecating throughout the Osbourne residence.

On this DVD’s main attraction, the latter is seen more frequently than the almighty former. Andrew Stockdale’s demeanour often looks incredibly wooden and uncomfortable, with his voice and his poses on stage appearing as both out of sync and tired.

Chris Ross’ overly recycled playing around with his keyboard gets beyond irritating throughout the show, so it’s left to Myles Heskett’s bombastic drumming to provide the consistent qualities that are to be looked at in a great live act. After all, there’s only so many times a man can near dry-hump a keyboard in an hour before you start to look for drying paint.

The main live centrepiece isn’t all a total washout though. Tales, Minds Eye and Colossal along with Joker & The Thief provide moments of joy, but even these can often be long, drawn-out affairs that often dilate the quality that lies within.

Playing twelve of the thirteen tracks from their re-released debut album shows one main reason why the trio may be flagging. A restrictive clutch of songs means that the group can’t rest songs and rejuvenate them when they are ready to rock them hard.

The sight of fans at the front staring at their arms starts to show that the gig wasn’t always one of those gigs that only comes to life if you were there too, as all the rolling around and near guitar destruction looks more like GCSE drama than arena rocking leviathans. The sound is there, but the soul isn’t.

When Gustav Ejstes appears to play flute on Witchcraft, he looks as awkward on stage as the band does, making the flute solo into a near Anchorman parody. Compare this to Dimension and Love Train from Brixton, and it’s like watching another band as they rip London to shreds.