Live Review: Live Review: Dick Diver @ Thornbury Theatre, Melbourne

On April 11 of this year, when Dick Diver announced that they would play their first concert in “since 2018 or so”, much of the Australian indie music scene spent the rest of the day reeling. 

The Melbourne four piece are one of the most gifted acts in this nation’s history at making music and all that goes with it seem effortless, the breezy way they announced their live return was completely in keeping with their collective attitude, and totally in contrast to the rush for tickets; a demand that required three more concerts to be added over the weekend all of which sold out.

Even without the announcement of the 10th anniversary release of their album, Melbourne, Florida, the buzz about Dick Diver’s return only grew as tonight’s gig approached. Fittingly, questions about why the band called it a day were met with a shrug and some 

Amplifying that casual approach to music and all the attention that accompanies it, is tonight’s opening band, Workhorse. Accurately describing themselves as “Australiana-country-western-dream-pop-shoegaze-band-music”, the five-piece are minus a member, but it’s hard to imagine how much more mellifluous this music could be. 

Over a background screen showing saturated drone footage of horses running free, much of the musical subtleties, lyrics and humbly delivered between song banter is lost beneath the chatter of a crowded room. Songs move slowly and easily as the long lines trailing away from the venue’s very busy bar. We may not get the details, but the atmosphere is crystal clear. This is exceptional stuff. Fluid, articulate and gently dazzling.

Beneath the domed ceiling of the Thornbury Theatre, hundreds of people, most in winter costs or puffer jackets, nurse pints of beer and plastic cups of wine as the band take to the stage. From even before a note is played, there is a sense that these are friends playing to friends. Nothing is going to go wrong, no mistake will be called out and there is no chance of losing the crowd to any other distraction. 

Posters made by Dick Diver members Steph Hughes and Al Montford adorn the room reminding punters that there is “no pride in genocide”, that anxiety is never really felt alone and other humanitarian concerns, the same concerns that fuel their songs.

Opening with early songs Keno, Hammock Days and Walk For Room, the band’s harmonies are radiant, humble and glorious. “How old is it?” asks Montford, “20 years? I don’t know.” Time does have a strange quality tonight. The songs so specifically reminiscent of the time of their release in the early 2010s, but sounding so bright and relaxed, the epitome of what so many young and new bands are aiming for. 

Behind the four members, augmented by a keyboard player, the screen shows the loop of a container ship spinning over the Suez Canal prompts guitarist Rupert Edwards to justify it. “Do you like my GIF? It’s actually an NFT,” he jokes before being asked to explain it. “Don’t you think about supply chains?” he replies, before Hughes clicks their drumsticks and leads the band into one of their best-known songs, Waste The Alphabet, an introduction that elicits a huge cheer from the audience. 

Water Damage follows before Hughes switches places with Edwards for New Start Again, a song whose chorus, “I’m on Newstart again / ‘Cause something wasn’t working / So I’m on Newstart again” is only potentially about the experience of being unemployed, says Montford. 

With its chiming guitars and earworm vocal melody, Calendar Days is a highlight – how can it not be? – yet even here, while playing the title track of the band’s best-known album, the stakes feel low. This is a great song, sung immaculately by Hughes, and less immaculately by at least half of the crowd, and it feels like a collective experience. Like the band is just leading us toward something we already know and saying, “here you go”.

Back at the drum kit, Hughes laughs. “I’m about 20 years late but I started a mailing list so if anything happens, we can tell you,” they say, alluding to the possibility of future Dick Diver activities.

A trumpet player and saxophone player are introduced for a sterling version of Lime Green Shirt and Year In Pictures, later tracks that see guitarist Alistair McKay and Edwards cutting loose with their guitar sounds, leaving behind their signature jangle for a piercing distortion and carefully blown glassy feedback.

“How are we doing,” asks Montford, tucking his long straight hair behind his ear. “Five stars on Google?”

As the band move to the final part of their first show in nearly seven years, their voices are now warmed up and sitting together comfortably in the mix. These three and sometimes harmonies are what sets the band ahead of so many other four pieces with two guitars, bass and drums. They’re so easy they feel like they could drift into Fleetwood Mac territory if they wanted to, but they’d rather keep to the roads they’ve hewn together. 

Alice, Leftovers and a set-closing Head Back, which sees Montford handing out different types of leave to the crowd, “annual leave, sick leave… pro rata”, ensure no one will leave disappointed. 

Leaving the stage for about 30 seconds, the band return to encore with Flying Teatowel Blues, and a gorgeous version of the closing track for their newly re-released album, View From A Shaky Ladder. Hughes again showing just how strong and expressive their voice is. The band wave goodbye, share a group hug and declare the show over. 

As the rugged-up crowd are ushered toward the door by the venue staff, no one seems ready to leave, but then again, no one really has to. They’re back.