I’m dragging my feet today. It takes a special show to lure me to Sydney and back midweek. I know I’ll feel sluggish and cranky the next day, so the music had better be worth it. And it was when Mumford & Sons and their exciting band of support acts graces the Entertainment Centre stage last night.
Willy Mason and Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros were support acts in the strictest sense of the word, but they took a much greater role in proceedings that most arists with that tag do. Members of all acts made appearances in the sets of the others, revelling in the opportunity to play amongst such accomplished and passionate musicians. The audience welcomed them all warmly, hanging on to their every note rather than using the time for toilet breaks and a few extra drinks at the bar.
Willy Mason was first up with his deep resonate voice, killer guitar skills, and gentlemanly charm. He reminded me a lot of Johnny Cash, and I lapped up his classic brand of countrified folk music. His set was simple, without bells and whistles, but when music’s that good you don’t need a spectacular show to jazz things up.
I enjoyed Willy Mason, but I was wowed by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes. What a band. This was really my first introduction to their music; I’d heard “Home” of course but didn’t click that they were “that band” until their set closed. But I was enthralled from the get go. A dozen musicians sharing a stage will always make an impression, but this band has much more than bulk on their side. There’s such a lovely old-fashioned feel to the group, like they’ve just stumbled off some hippie compound with their bare feet and left of centre instrumentation. How exciting to see mandolins and trumpets and piano accordions coming together with the most exquisite harmonies! And then there’s Alex Ebert, aka Edward Sharpe, a compelling messiah-like figure with a captivating voice that dances mad, joyful jigs. I wish one of my photos could accurately convey what an incredible presence he has, but sadly the dim lighting and his rapid movements were against me. Despite my love for Mumford & Sons, I was disappointed when they announced their last song. I was just not ready for the set to end. I can’t recall ever responding so deeply to a support act.
That disappointment was pretty easy to shake off once Mumford & Sons took to the stage. These British lads must be one of the tightest bands around. I marvelled at the way their voices mingled together, with just a gentle acoustic guitar to accompany them, in the opening strains of “Lover’s Eyes.” The show kicked into a higher gear when Mumford & Sons took us back to their debut album with a raucous rendition of “Roll Away Your Stone” and “Winter Winds.” I really appreciated the way Mumford & Sons celebrated both their albums, treating fans to a roughly equal number of tracks. This wasn’t about pushing a new release; instead it was a night just about enjoying great music. As captivated as I was by the band, I loved looking down and taking in the faces of the crowd on the floor, jumping like one pulsing organism in the more frenetic moments, singly loudly and proudly along with their idols. There was an awful lot of love in the room.
All the acts were in such fine form last night, it was only fitting that Willy Mason and Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes joined Mumford & Sons for their final song, a rousing rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chain.” Apparently that’s the first time they’ve all done that, and I feel so blessed that I was in the room to witness it.
Image source: Stephen Katulka
Darren could easily fill much larger places. His two shows at the original Lizotte’s sold out months ago. And he will graduate to greater halls when he plays the Sydney Opera House and Melbourne’s Crown Casino in the coming weeks. But clearly there’s a big part of Darren that revels in the intimacy a small venue can provide. He chatted easily to the enthralled crowd between songs, and played a generous two-hour set without the aid of a support act.
After such a lengthy set many artists would have felt they’d given all they could give, but not Darren. He was still happily signing autographs and posing for photographs when fatigue got the best of me. He might be one of the hottest acts in the Australian music industry at the moment, but it’s refreshing to see Darren’s got his feet planted firmly on the ground.
In many ways this was the same show I saw a few months ago. The core stories remained, the outfits were every bit as loud, and the set list had just a few tweaks. The ’80s music took centre stage, much to the chagrin of a few murmuring nannas in the audience. They were treated to “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes” after intermission, and “Shout” at the conclusion, but David clearly had a vision for the night. As a child of the ’80s myself I lapped it up, even if I did feel a little sorry for those confused old ducks.
We’ve all got those albums that nurse us through hard times. You move on from those moments, but they always occupy a special place in your heart. 
When Lisa Mitchell took to the stage it became clear that this wouldn’t be just another musical performance. She started her set reading some poetry from John Burroughs before welcoming her musicians and supporting vocal trio on stage. It was an unusual beginning, but one befitting a night with this quirky talent. She played a few gorgeous new songs before pleasing the masses with “Neopolitan Dreams.” I’ve always loved this whimsical track, and it sounded especially good in the church.
I wrote this post sitting at Brisbane Airport, preparing to return to my real life and reflecting on a wonderful weekend. So many factors made it special: reconnecting with good friends, dancing until the wee small hours with boys that were far too young, singing songs around an RSL piano, drinking amazing wine. But at the heart of it there was Prince. He was the man who inspired me to make the trip to Brisbane to begin with, so perhaps it’s fitting that his Friday night show was one of my long weekend’s highlights.
As the lights came up we were instantly transported back to the 80s. The band wore more neon than I’ve seen for years, and the lights were straight out of the period. It was perfect. He opened with the title track, “Let’s Go” and barely took his foot from the throttle as he treated us to songs from the album and other 80s favourites. As a child of the 80s those unexpected gems were some of the night’s highlights for me. His stripped back version of “Every Time You Go Away,” beginning with an a capella section, was breathtaking. His take on “Knew You Were Waiting,” with back-up singer Josie Lane stepping into Aretha Franklin’s shoes was so much fun. And his version of “Power of Love” was even more awesome after hearing his story of performing it as a teen beginning his journey as a musician. Those tales really made the night for me, the reminiscing about buying Smash Hits magazine and recording songs from the radio using the old two-fingered method. They were probably lost on certain sections of the audience, but as a 30-something I was right there with him.
I’ve always loved seeing shows at Newcastle’s Civic Theatre. It’s such a beautiful venue, so intimate and so well appointed. But it may not have been the best place to see David Campbell. I spent so much of the night dancing in my chair, dying to do more. As he started “Goody Two Shoes” it all got too much and Mum and I jumped out and found a quiet corner to dance. The theatre’s not really the place to do that, but who can sit down with that sort of music?
Image source: Stephen Katulka
Then it was time for 
I fell in love at first note with Patrick James, a sweet young acoustic guitar-playing troubadour from Port Macquarie. He was a cutie, but his modest personality and superb lyrics really won me. Despite being a support act the crowd around me was so respectful that I could really take in the words he sang. Just when I thought his set couldn’t get any better he was joined by his banjo-playing pal. Together they created the perfect indie folk tunes to set the stage for the evening ahead.
I must admit, I was flagging after Patrick. Pub gigs always get so late for this middle-aged music lover! I whispered to my husband that I wished there wasn’t another support act; I wanted to hear Howie and head on home! But there was Brendan Maclean, a magnificent musician who turned my fatigue around. He made a big impression with his colourful jacket and Dwayne Wayne style sunglasses, but as his first impassioned piano driven song unfolded it was clear this guy wasn’t just about looks. His set flew by with quirky originals and cover versions of songs by Leonard Cohen and Lady Gaga. You’re not going to find that combination very often folks! Whether on piano or his beloved ukulele Murphy Brown, Brendan wowed me.
And then there was Howie Day. He’s still largely unknown in this country but I’ve been following his career for the past decade. In fact, my husband and I realised as we sat waiting for him to appear that we’d seen him first eight years ago in New York City. It was the first show we ever saw together, something I was thrilled to tell the man himself once his set wrapped up. But before I reverted to teenage fangirl it was time to soak up his brilliance. His set drew from his three albums and the brand new EP Ceasefire, something that pleased a long-time fan like me greatly. The simplicity of his lone acoustic guitar and plaintive vocals was matched perfectly by his tech wizardry. What that man does with looped recordings blows my mind each time I witness it. It’s such a neat trick that he uses like a pro, making the right songs feel bigger and more lush. However in the more intimate tunes like “She Says” and “No Longer What You Require” he does away with the trickery and lets his guitar and voice speak for themselves. It’s just magic.
And it was that something that took me to Sydney’s Allphones Arena on Wednesday night to witness Roger Waters performing the piece in the flesh, so to speak. As I looked at the T-shirts of the faithful fans gathered outside the venue I realised nine years has passed since I last caught his act. However the years have not wearied him.
I’m not someone who typically sees those big spectacle shows. Give me a few guys with guitars and I’m a happy woman. But this production blew my mind. I expected a lot. Pink Floyd set the standard for this kind of thing all those years ago. But I wasn’t prepared for exactly how thrilling this show was. It was a visual feast, with exploding airplanes, flying pigs, oversized puppets, pyrotechnics, and of course, that wall. The projections beamed onto those bricks were like nothing I’ve ever seen.
While the production was slick, it wasn’t all about the gloss. Roger Waters clearly still believes in this piece, and he performed it with everything he had. He inhabited his Pink role, only breaking the fourth wall now and again to remind us how grateful he was for our attendance and love. His voice is still superb, and his band matched him. Replicating David Gilmour’s guitar solo in “Comfortably Numb” is a feat, but the appointed guitarist came close. Seeing present day Roger accompanying his 1980-self on “Mother” was breathtaking. I also loved seeing those personal favourites like “One Of My Turns” and “Nobody Home,” the tracks I’d never hear at an ordinary Pink Floyd or Roger Waters show. Closing the show with “Waltzing Matilda” once those bricks had toppled might have been corny, but it was still a lot of fun.
The show was the perfect marriage of music and theatre. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s early days yet, but it just may prove to be the concert of the year.
Image source: Stephen Katulka