Live Review: Vance Joy, Holy Holy, Ainslie Wills

The weather has held off long enough after a drizzly day to dry out the sloping grounds of the Riverstage, as people amble through the gates with blankets and bits. It’s always a joy to catch some live tunes outdoors and this place is one of the best to do so, hemmed by the Botanic Gardens and the cliffs along the Brisbane River beyond.

After a humble entry the lilting melodies of Melbourne’s Ainslie Wills ring out over the early gathering, and despite being the first batter up she makes an immediate impact. She and her two players bust out the key-riddled Hawaii and atmospheric Never Know What To Say, as well as a collaboration piece with Big Scary/#1 Dads’ Tom Iansek called So Soldier. All showcase her powerful voice that flips between firm and fragile with ease. She finishes with upbeat radio favourite Drive and some gracious words.

Since releasing their debut last year, cross-city, cross-band fusion Holy Holy can do no wrong. The Timothy Carroll and Oscar Dawson-fronted five-piece find themselves playing to a decent crowd out in the open, but it's a far cry from the intense, intimate sold out shows they've headlined in the past 12 months. But after an extended intro to History and If I Were You they make their lyrical and musical gravitas felt. Outside Of The Heart Of It and You Can Not Call For Love Like a Dog are note-perfect, and when the boys pay homage to Prince’s passing with Nothing Compares 2 U (written for Sinead O’Connor), their work is done.

Before Vance Joy makes it on stage a huge cry goes up at the fall of a backdrop, revealing his moniker. If an inanimate object can get that kind of response what will the man himself yield? By the time the Melbourne troubadour joins his players on stage under the glow of his name, the crowd is on its feet to greet him under a light sprinkle of rain. But no drizzle is going to dampen the sunny vibe that fills the parkland when massive single Mess Is Mine plays, followed by Red Eye and Winds Of Change, the latter, he tells us, vetoed years ago by his sister who said “Yes, you could play that for people who don’t love you.” It’s that kind of self-deprecating storytelling that sheds light on the fact that the lanky dude in his late 20s is actually a bit of a dork. It’s a revelation, along with the on-point falsetto in Straight Into Your Arms, Play With Fire and Georgia, that obliterates the cynicism; that voice and assured guitar and uke plucking rebuke twee aspects embedded in his commercial presence.

A rousing and faithful turn of Riptide paves the way for the set closer, a brassy cover of Paul Simon’s You Can Call Me Al, before VJ returns from a brief duck out the back for My Kind Of Man and the forever anticipated Fire And The Flood. As an effervescent fizz of fireworks rains down, a few thousand people roar their appreciation at one of the nation’s new favourite sons.