Live Review: Xavier Rudd

The great Joe Strummer once said of his music, “This isn't politics; it's the difference between right and wrong.” The same can be said for Torquay musician Xavier Rudd, though for him it's about culture and respect. As he sits barefoot on the Palace stage surrounded by two didgeridoos and various percussive instruments, the Aboriginal flag hangs suspended from the ceiling three levels above. The sterile walls become lit with an amber sunset backdrop, before the native bird samples that underlay his current album Spirit Bird begin.

Opening with Lioness Eye, Rudd exerts his talents as each limb connects with a different instrument to add groove and improvisation. The drone of the didge is hypnotic, so too is watching him simultaneously play drums. Throughout the night, it's never about him, but rather his music and message and the mediums he uses to deliver them. For Let Me Be, Rudd is joined onstage by support act Yeshi who plays a native African Kamele ngoni. Creating a rich tapestry of sound, both artists feed off one other with a clash of cultures. In contrast, Follow The Sun, the most simplistic of Rudd's songs instrumentally, utilises acoustic guitar and harmonica. There's a fragility to Rudd's voice and his use of stomp box adds a continuous heartbeat to the rawness. He sings with a perpetual smile and draws energy from the connection between audience and music.

Introducing Message from his 2005 album Food In The Belly, Rudd prefaces it with an acknowledgment of country. “Australia is a place we need to protect and cherish,” he pleads, before Perth artist Warren Jones walks on stage in traditional indigenous clothing. Interpreting the spirit of the music through dance for its five-minute duration, the performance becomes bigger than either individual or the song. Rudd's music is a carrier. Be it a connection with community or land, social or environmental change, or instilling positivity, it's as much about education as it is entertainment and is a powerful experience.

Rudd closes with the title track from his latest album, a song that came to him as an ethereal vision when working in The Kimberley. The song floods with emotion as a hush overcomes the audience. He wails the choral refrain in what appears to be indigenous dialect and the audience soon joins in. Spirit Bird is written about the compulsory acquisition of sacred land and, like so many or Rudd's songs, it's the amalgamation of meaning and music that makes it so special.