Live Review: Tash Sultana, Pierce Brothers, Willow Beats

There's enough contouring and strobing on faces to keep the makeup industry in business this evening, which seems outta place at a Tash Sultana show.

We first caught Willow Beats at Parklife 2012 after they took out the triple j Unearthed competition and opened the festival and, even though the house lights remain on until well into their set, this pair creates a delicious, oozy vibe. Kalyani Mumtaz gives a shout-out to her teachers that are in the house, explaining she just completed a vocal assessment. Her voice can be improved? Wow! The other half of this duo, Narayana Johnson, is also blessed with exquisite pipes and Merewif is as beguiling as a siren song. "This one is about taking care of your mental and physical health," is how Mumtaz introduces Be Kind To Yourself and her beautiful, fluid movements raise cheers. Mumtaz tells us the meaning behind one of her songs, which addresses how climate change impacts Indigenous communities, forcing people out of their homes due to rising sea levels. During their closer, Special, beats boom behind effervescent looped synths. What a delightful positive energy Willow Beats bring! It's empowering and even flute is welcome.

Pierce Brothers are just going from strength to strength. The twins make the perfect precursor to Tash Sultana and are continuing to tour the globe with her into next year. We could never tire of their ambidextrous party trick: one brother playing didgeridoo while holding harmonica up to his guitar-playing brother's mouth. Jack and Pat are super-appreciative of their captive audiences and let us know they'll be signing stuff at the merch desk directly after their set as well as at the conclusion of Sultana's performance. We get swept up in the excitement, the mosh becomes a trampoline and we're left applauding wildly, in awe. As with Sultana, Pierce Brothers got their start busking and now the world is their oyster.

Bob Marley makes a fitting soundtrack for setting up Tash Sultana's stage and strings of fairylights mark out the back of this multi-instrumentalist's performance space. The house lights dim and we admire Is This Love while bracing ourselves for what's next. Once Sultana hits the stage, the roar is so deafening that Sultana eventually pushes one hand out in front of her, motioning us to stop cheering so that she can actually start playing. Sultana acknowledges this is an all-ages gig. "I wanna apologise to the parents tonight, I swear like a muthafucker!" 

Sultana is a true inspiration who isn't afraid to totally take it there. "The music doesn't stop for Margaret Court, that's for sure... I don't really have too much of an opinion on someone until I think they're a dickhead but, hey! Get up with the times, fucking hell! 'Cause there's seven and a half thousand people here and I don't think she's stopped any of this from happening. So that brings me to welcome you to my show and thank you for coming. This is a pretty big crowd for someone who was a busker, you know?" Sultana then outlines the three rules we must abide by in order to be a welcome member of her audience. "One, if you're a homophobe: you can get the fuck out of my gig." Mad cheers. "Number two, if you're a racist: get the fuck out of my gig." More roars of approval. ""And number three, if you're transphobic: get the FUCK outta my gig!" Next-level hollering. Gemini follows.

During Murder To The Mind, Sultana's beatboxing raises impressed cheers. Sultana's one-handed trumpet playing just never gets old. Song arrangements build, pare back and then in comes the drop but these arcs are somehow never predictable. Sultana constantly delivers very important messages such as, "It's OK to not be OK." You can hear the hurt in Sultana's voice during one song before a sea of iPhones light up the arena as if in a show of support.

When Sultana's beanie comes off, you know she means business. "Thank you very much, Melbourne, it's good to be home." We can tell she means it. "This is the last song, maybe." Sultana is in fine form tonight. "Alright, I'm gonna play Wonderwall by Oasis... fuck that shit!" She starts Jungle, pausing a few bars in to tease, "Do you know this one?"

An actual joint is passed around in front of us in GA. Then one dickhead from that group aims a cup and throws it at a random punter's head. Why don't people realise that the artist on stage they've come here to see would hope this shit doesn't happen in their crowds?

By popular demand, Sultana returns to the stage for an encore, her hair pulled back in a bun. "I want it to be so loud, but I'll get a fine from the council," she explains. Her flamenco-style guitar impresses beyond belief. Sultana's gestures are wide and all-encompassing, her skills easily translate to a stadium setting. Her raw power radiates and Sultana has a massive presence up there on stage. The only thing we'd suggest? Zoomed footage on big screens so that those toward the back can also admire the intricacies in her playing.

As Fleetwood Mac's Don't Stop blares over venue's sound system, Sultana films the expanse of her audience before leaving the stage and we're left singing along with this fine choice of exit song. Sultana's time is now.