I last saw David Campbell celebrating the music of the 1980s in April. David and classic pop tunes proved to be a match made in heaven, but the somewhat stiff venue of Newcastle’s Civic Theatre didn’t quite gel. So I was thrilled to see the show again last weekend at the Central Coast’s favorite club, Mingara.
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.
Spandau Ballet’s “True” is my favourite song of all time, and again David Campbell transported me back to the time I first heard it. His simple rendition gets to the heart of the classic ballad. The stripped back section, with covers of Yazoo’s “Only You” and Kenny Loggins’ “Footloose” was another highlight. And David’s takes on “Goody Two Shoes” and “Come On Eileen” might even be better than the originals.
While I heard the same music as before, there was a more spontaneous feel to the evening that really suited these commercial pop songs. He told us how Mingara was always a favourite place to play, and he seemed to relish the chance to move away from the script. An impromptu question and answer session was a bit of fun, even if the wrinklies turned on him when they discovered young Leo Campbell was yet to meet his grandmother. The inevitable hecklers were treated with David’s trademark humour, and he blew kisses at the women who boogied with abandon at the front of the stage.
David apologised sincerely that he couldn’t meet us all after the show and sign autographs as he usually does, but he needed to be up at quarter past four for another Channel Nine morning show stint. A lesser performer might have cut the show short to hit the highway early, but not David. He performed a full length set that never felt rushed and an enthusiastic encore with the energy turned up to eleven. I certainly wasn’t awake to see the TV performance he gave Channel Nine viewers on Sunday morning, but the one he served up for the Central Coast the night before was flawless.
Image source: own photo
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
It’s amazing that way that a band can get under your skin without you really noticing. I thought Icehouse would be good to see, but I didn’t expect to be swept away by them. But after just a few bars of “We Can Get Together,” I pumping my fists and singing along in full voice. The band started strong and didn’t take their foot off the gas pedal. The years have not wearied them, but the addition of young singer-songwriter Michael Paynter has given them a youthful injection. Hearing him take the bulk of the vocals on “Man of Colours” was one of the set’s real highlights. I also loved the souped up version of “Miss Divine,” one of those childhood favourites I’d all but forgotten. We were given a little early Oates when John stepped out to play along with “Electric Blue,” the song he cowrote all those years ago. And no Aussie could be unmoved in a crowd singing along to “Great Southern Land.”
After such a great set from Icehouse I was pumped up for an incredible show. However quickly I became deflated. Hall and Oates were performing “Maneater” and I should have been swept away, but it wasn’t. The sound was a mess. Where was that crisp audio Icehouse enjoyed? When you’ve got eight musicians up on stage this needs to be spot on, or else it becomes jumbled. So many squeaking microphones is unforgivable at a concert of this calibre. The sound seemed to distract the band a bit; for the first few songs I noticed Daryl Hall gesturing to turn this up or this down. Things settled somewhat, but the music never sounded as good as it did for the support.
I’ve been casually following Georgia Fair’s career for the last couple of years now, and I was thrilled to see how much they’ve grown. The banter with the crowd still feels a bit stilted, but all that awkwardness melts away once the music starts. The lads complement one another so beautifully, both with their instruments and their voices, and it’s a pleasure to witness. I can’t recall observing a crowd so hushed during a support act’s set in some time.