Live Review: Dark Mofo 2025

Upon arrival at Hobart airport, we’re greeted by Dark Mofo’s “Return To Me” slogan, illuminated in giant red font. This one-of-a-kind highlight on Australia’s annual festival calendar is back, following a year’s hiatus, with a new Artistic Director, Chris Twite. 

At this midwinter solstice festival, revellers are invited to embrace the dark (and freezing temps). Splashes of red lighting signpost Dark Mofo-related spaces, and the entire festival encourages you to be curious and open-minded. There are topsy-turvy crosses everywhere, photo ops at every turn, free installations aplenty and oodles of Australian-exclusive music and art events. 

Here’s what knocked our socks off over Dark Mofo’s second weekend (which aptly included Friday 13th – spooky!): 

1. “If in doubt, say yes!” 

“What the fuck is my life?” Alabaster DePlume marvels as he takes the mic on the Odeon stage for his Australian exclusive appearance, wearing a keffiyeh scarf. A conducting staff dangles from what looks like a black shoelace tied around his wrist. 

This Mancunian saxophonist and jazz poet (real name Angus Fairbairn) tells us he flew in late last night following a 32-hour journey. He visited the empty William Crowther plinth in Hobart's Franklin Square earlier today and expressed his appreciation for the phrase, “Sovereignty was never ceded” – incorporating this statement in support of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander rights into one of the songs he performs tonight.

The conflict between Israel and the Palestinian people has been weighing heavily on his mind, and it also makes its way into his improvised vocals throughout. “We’re all people, what’s the difference?” he repeats at one point.   

Fairbairn is accompanied by bassist/vocalist supreme, Ruth Goller, and Bo Ningen’s drummer Akihide Monna (aka Monchan). Goller somehow even manages to echo Fairbairn’s improvised vocals for some haunting BVs – she’s absolutely exceptional. Later in the set, Fairbairn reveals Monchan is accompanying them on drums for the very first time this evening and our jaws collectively hit the floor.      

“If in doubt, say yes!” – Fairbairn shares one of his guiding principles a couple of times. He’s very in-the-moment, often sharing his thoughts in real time. “I fucking love doing this shit. I don’t know whether you can tell?” he beams. 

After explaining, he typically meets with people pre-show to ask, “What do you need in your heart?” Fairbairn reveals “joy and gratitude” as today’s winning response and endeavours to explore and help teach us about these feelings during this performance.   

Following our rapturous applause, the trio return to the stage for a genuine encore, and Fairbairn is visibly chuffed. 

It’s high vibrations all around. Fairbairn and Co. leave the stage buzzing, which is how we exit the venue: feeling empowered to make a difference and more positive about our unique place in the world. Powerful, mind-expanding stuff.

2. Worshipping at the altar of Npcede

“I went to Night Mass last night and it was 4 am before I knew it; I feel like I’m behaving like a 20-year-old again!” a lady (who was definitely older than 20) enthused in the Mona Roma ferry queue on Saturday morning.

Anticipation for our Night Mass: God Complex experience amped up across the course of the weekend until we attended its closing, Saturday night edition. The night prior, one of the main roads was blocked off, even to pedestrian traffic, and beyond the barrier, it looked like a Mad Max set. What’s that noise? Sounds like a screeching velociraptor or something. A flame puffs into the sky like a fire-breathing dragon, answering our question.

Every year, Dark Mofo’s Night Mass takes place in an undisclosed location that straddles multiple venues. The line-up and set times are never announced in advance, which adds to the mystique. Night Mass: God Complex is a playground for adults; one gets the feeling that it would be impossible to get into trouble for anything at all. “If there’s a door or a curtain, look behind it ‘cause you’re meant to,” a fellow reveller recommends. 

After wandering through a maze, we encounter “Daddy” – scantily clad, in black-leather bondage gear – who demands we drop to our knees. One dude refuses to do so, and Daddy leads us in a chorus of “Bye-bye!” Eventually, said dude leaves. A volunteer is then recruited to have his eyebrows shaved off, but first, he must sign a waiver.  

There’s a spiral slide to expedite trips from level one to the main rave dancefloor, which you have to queue for. But the Night Mass highlight for this scribe is stumbling upon a thrilling new musical discovery: Naarm/Melbourne’s own Npcede (pronounced N P Seed) – Chapter Records’ last-ever new artist signing – hot off the heels of their debut self-titled EP release. What a result!  

Zac Hellyer’s crisp, bone-crushing beats underscore the barely controlled chaos, which is rounded out by brothers Roy (bass) and Victor Moore (vocals/guitar played with a bow, à la Jónsi from Sigur Rós but way more heckers). Boasting Keith Flint-level charisma and raw intensity, Victor stalks the stage, thumping his skinhead or chest with the mic.

He regularly jumps down into the thick of the crowd or performs standing on the photography barrier, supported by front-row punters. The stage design – featuring a mess of dangling cables, red light running through them like blood through veins, and TV-sized screens broadcasting visuals overlaid by single, rotating words (eg. “eat”, “sex”, “cunt”) – also suits them perfectly.

The munters down front get a li’l ‘Chatty Cathy’ during Npcede’s more downtempo closing number, but we trust they’re discussing this band’s utter brilliance.       

3. Crime & The City Solution’s “Ballarat version” 

Wandering into the Odeon ahead of Crime & The City Solution’s Australian exclusive show is like being transported directly into St Kilda’s Crystal Ballroom in its late-‘70s prime. 

They commence in acoustic, trio mode – frontman Simon Bonney, violinist/vocalist Bronwyn Adams and guitarist/vocalist Joshua Murphy –  with the haunting Rivers Of Blood, and there’s an immediate awareness that we’re witnessing something special. Following this song, Bonney reveals it was inspired by a tree he felt spiritually connected with during a trip to Melaleuca. 

Next, it's all aboard The Bride Ship. This stripped-back version is particularly spellbinding, and we hang on Bonney’s every word – he’s a terrific storyteller, and the sounds Adams elicits – vocally and via violin – add a boundless, textural atmosphere.   

Bonney then invites two extra band members – a bassist and a drummer – to join them on stage, announcing, “Now, for the very first time on a stage anywhere, the Ballarat version of Crime & The City Solution.” 

We’re swept away by I Have The Gun’s waltz rhythm as all five musicians lock into a groove. The Last Dictator II and The Last Dictator IV wonderfully showcase this band’s cohesion; they effortlessly shift time signatures, mid-song, without so much as a shared glance. 

Endearing banter between married couple Bonney and Adams reflects their genuine love and affection for one another. Later in the show, Adams wonders aloud whether she’s been too chatty between songs, but Bonney immediately reassures her, “You’re in a safe space. You can be you.” Bonney also confirms Brave Hearted Woman, which is played in trio mode, is an ode to Adams (“It’s about you, darling”).

After admitting they don’t usually sing cover versions, Bonney and co. close with their blistering take on Neil Young’s Hey Hey, My My.   

Whether reverently presenting gentle laments or thrashing wildly and teetering on the edge of implosion, these musician lifers are committed to elevating each song and connecting with their audience. Furthermore, they look chuffed to be here performing for us. 

We feel privileged to have witnessed these unsung heroes of the global music scene performing live.

The following day, we hopped on the Mona Roma ferry to interview Bonney and Adams ahead of their Frying Pan Studios recording session. Of “the Ballarat version” of Crime & The City Solution, Bonney enthuses, “This line-up is special. We've actually had the time to sit down and get to know each other. We got to work on the arrangements and refine things and really get tight.

“It is the perfect line-up for me. It's nice to listen to the others and I feel a part of it; I've never really felt part of the band before, because I have a very unusual sense of timing, and so I was always outside of the band.”

Over the years, Crime & The City Solution has evolved into many different iterations: Melbourne, Sydney, London, Berlin, Detroit and now Ballarat. 

Adams – who admits she’s dreamt of playing Dark Mofo since its inception – marvels, “Crime [& The City Solution] tends to gather the right people together.” 

So, is there scope for new releases featuring Crime & The City Solution’s Ballarat version? “Absolutely,” Bonney confirms. “I mean, I’ve got ten songs sitting around that need to be developed, but I just had to wait for the full line-up to materialise.”  

4. Salted caramel and apple hot toddy, anyone?  

Surely the most photogenic, Insta-friendly food court there ever was and ever will be, Winter Feast is a gothic-themed gastronomic wonderland. We’ve seen so many photos of the illuminated red/white crosses and endless rows of benches – evenly dispersed with an abundance of tea-light and regular candles – that we experience déjà vu.  

If meat and three veg is your thing, best you venture elsewhere for a feed. 

Winter Feast is a foodies’ paradise that celebrates seasonal Tasmanian produce. Squidlipops, Vegemite and cheese oysters, octopus sliders with fermented chilli and house potato bun – WTF is a house potato, I hear you ask? Exactly. Everything’s ‘extra’ here, even the adult beverages. Salted caramel and apple hot toddy, anyone? Sure, make that two. We’re pretty disappointed there’s no Dark MoPho stall, though (geddit?).

5. “I never thought I would get all these people in the same room together” 

The final act on this year’s tremendous Borderlands triple bill at the Odeon – which also showcased Hand To Earth (Yolngu songman Daniel Wilfred, trumpeter/composer Peter Knight, Korean vocalist Sunny Kim plus additional members) and Félicia Atkinson’s electro-acoustic collages – is a collaborative project between violinist/composer Cye Wood, vocalist Lisa Gerrard (Dead Can Dance) and Kalkadunga man William Barton on didgeridoo (yidaki). 

The trio perform their debut album, Under In Between, live for the first time – together with a few pieces that didn’t make it onto the album – with a little help from their astonishingly talented musician friends and family. 

Under In Between has been described as “a sonic journey that resonates through blood, flesh, and bone,” and the audience sits in worshipful silence, captivated, for the show’s entire duration – you could have heard a pin drop. As we soak up the intoxicating soundscapes, there’s an energy shift inside the venue. It’s cold in here, but that’s not the reason behind our goosebumps. 

It’s not a stretch to say that the combination of Gerrard’s transcendental vocals, Wood’s stirring violin and the wide range of sounds and vocalisations Barton produces on didgeridoo is healing. 

Positioned stage right, Gerrard is a serene presence – swathed in luxurious gold fabric with matching turban. She sings from the heart all right, while her right hand rests gently on top of a chair – as if bracing herself for an onslaught of sonic beauty. Barton is seated stage left. Sometimes his didgeridoo playing replicates the sound of howling wind.    

Post-show, we caught up with Wood upstairs in The Red Room, with its abundance of scarlet curtains and multiple chandeliers shimmering from the ceiling. As he settles into a red velvet chair, we ask Wood how he feels following the premiere live performance of this work. “Oh, a bit beyond words,” he admits, looking a little shell-shocked. “Relieved right now, but ecstatic in the moment, for sure.

“Every single person that played on that album [Under In Between] was on the stage with us tonight. And my other closest collaborator, Christian Pyle – he mixed the album, and he was there mixing us, front of house.

“I never thought I would get all these people in the same room together. It was a miracle.”

Paul Corley, the project’s Musical Director, flew over from LA just for this show and Wood gushes, “He's played with everybody. There's this big poster of Anohni in the dressing room, looking over us, and that's an artist he's worked with a lot. And Sigur Rós – he's been their producer and musical director.”

Wood’s 16-year-old son, Taeo, absolutely shone on keys. “Yeah, pretty cool first gig!” his proud dad chuckles, disbelievingly. “I've had to check in on myself over the last six months to go, ‘Am I putting too much pressure on him?’ But, no. It was such a joy.”

Ahead of Sunday’s Borderlands gig, Gerrard arrived via ferry on Wednesday morning and Barton arrived the following day. “So we started rehearsing on Thursday,” Wood shares. “That was the day they met and the first time we all played together – I was the only person that knew everybody – and it was beautiful, actually.” 

This Under In Between live show simply must tour the world. Their schedules miraculously aligned for Borderlines, which means it’s not out of the realm of possibility, right? 

6. The threat of violence  

We access The Old Bank Building via a back entrance, walking down several flights of stairs to arrive at one end of a narrow, starkly lit white corridor. Stalking the corridor is Brazilian artist Paul Setúbal, black-clad in riot gear and wearing a balaclava. Setúbal wields a flexible baton, which he sometimes bends like it’s exercise equipment. Occasionally, he leans against one wall as if listening closely to it. Punters are visible at the other end of the corridor. The expressions on their faces vary, all the way from amusement to panic. 

THUMP! Setúbal pounds one of the walls, a hole forms, and debris falls around his feet. Another THUMP! The crashing sound, echoing and amplified in this space, makes us flinch. Someone nearby asks a security guard, “Can I walk through?” She responds with a shrug. Setúbal stretches out one arm. The force of his blows makes us wonder how he sustains these repetitive actions for each performance’s four-hour duration, night after night. 

He doesn’t exactly make eye contact with those assembled on either side of the corridor, but the threat of violence in this social experiment is real. Eventually, someone braves it and walks through the corridor, walking towards us wearing a defiant expression. They pass Setúbal without incident, which emboldens others to follow suit. Setúbal is vastly outnumbered, and we wonder whether any groups have ever tried to tackle him by force. We later read that, during Dark Mofo’s opening weekend, two people punched the walls until they bled. 

This work was inspired by the artist’s own childhood experience of police violence. How you react to the work – whether you choose to pass by him through the corridor or return from whence you came – speaks volumes. Some people laugh when they feel uncomfortable, which can be jarring. The experience is both confronting and thought-provoking.   

7. The Horrors, post-line-up change: “a bit more fluid”

The last time The Horrors graced our shores was way back in 2012 when they toured with Laneway Festival – that’s 13 years ago! The British band is perfectly cast for this festival, both aesthetically and sonically, and their full-band show at the Odeon is another of Dark Mofo’s Australian-exclusive shows.  

The Horrors have undergone some personnel changes since they last toured our shores. This evening’s incarnation will feature OG members Faris Badwin (lead singer), Rhys Webb (bassist) and Joshua Hayward (guitarist) together with Amelia Kidd (from Scottish band The Ninth Wave) on keys and Jordan Cook on drums. 

When we caught up with Badwin in the Odeon’s green room after their soundcheck, he extolled, “Amelia really is one of the most talented musicians I've ever worked with, so I think she's just as much a part of [The Horrors] as me or Rhys. And Jordan's one of my favourite contemporary drummers, so it is very much a band.

“I used to see us as a gang of five people doing everything together, and now we're more in a place where we're kind of doing this as a looser thing where people come in and out, and it's a bit more fluid. And I'm quite enjoying that, to be honest. I don't really like things to be ultra-predictable, I like things to be a little uncertain, and I find I enjoy things more that way. I just like the novelty of not always knowing what's going to happen; it feels like there's a lot of freedom with that.”

Since they don’t have to rush off to the mainland for more Australian dates this time around, The Horrors are also heading to MONA’s Frying Pan Studios for a recording session while in lutruwita. “Because we've got a day of recording, kind of unexpectedly, we can now try and record some of the songs in the place that they've arrived at [since playing them live],” Baldwin says. “So that's cool. We’ll go do different versions of some of the songs.

“When you write a song, you have a set idea about how it makes you feel, and then that can change as you perform it, which is interesting. But I think it's cool to capture it [on record] before it gets changed by performing it live, because it's a different thing.”

Highlights of The Horrors’ Dark Mofo performance include Sea Within A Sea’s bubbling synth climax; Badwin’s spoken-word interlude during Who Can Say (“And when I told her I didn't love her anymore/ She cried/ And when I told her, her kisses were not like before/ She cried…” – we die a little inside!); new album cut Lotus Eater, with its danceable, clickety-click beat; and the heart-breaking wistfulness of Something To Remember Me By, which closes proceedings. Don’t let another 13 years elapse between tours, ya hear? 

8. Hardcore banjo at its finest 

Yet another Australian exclusive, New York trio Show Me The Body open with a thrilling cover of Sabotage by Beastie Boys as tinnies fly around the Odeon’s stalls section. Hectic is an understatement. Frontman Julian Cashwan Pratt plays banjo like a boss, Harlan Steed helicopters his long locks while masterfully slappin’ da bass, and drummer Jackie McDermott is metronomically precise. SMTB create the densest of sounds, and we’re fully invested from go to woah. 

“It’s getting worse, people cutting at night/ No guns so they use a knife…” – the ominous K-9 starts off in a somewhat measured fashion, before shifting into a whirling dervish and then back again. The synergy between these musicians is something to behold. Arcanum, with its curly riffs, scores the loudest crowd sing-along of the evening. 

Sans banjo, the frontman gets lotsa air with his impressive jumps and hitch kicks. He rips off his T-shirt and jumps into the photography pit to get up close and personal with front-row punters. “Thank you. Show Me The Body,” he announces before dropping the mic. Wait, what? But they’ve only been playing for about 40 minutes! The crowd chants – ”One more song! Once more song!” – but to no avail. 

We like their style, ‘cause encore fakeouts suck.

9. The Empties fill our cup

While warming up The Peep Tempel’s stage at Altar, Adelaide quintet The Empty Threats (aka The Empties) own the room and capture our hearts. 

Frontperson Stu Patterson – who also plays electric clarinet and sax with a whole lotta sass – high kicks, drops to the stage and engages directly with audience members. Patterson insists punters fill the circle of fear at the front of the stage, but their fun show draws us towards the stage like a magnet anyway.

The Empties take complete ownership of their out-thereness, which makes us wanna lose ourselves and get involved.    

The lewks they pull together are individualistic and memorable – we see you guitarist in the parachute fabric boilersuit! So Adidas socks over fishnets is cool? Okay, we’ll allow it.    

Think: The Strokes jamming with NO ZU in a secret room at Night Mass.   

10. Sparking curiosity

Italian sculptor Arcangelo Sassolino seeks to capture “that instant in which something is becoming something else” with his mesmerising In the end, the beginning exhibition at the Museum of Old and New Art (MONA). 

Behind a long expanse of floor-to–ceiling glass in one room, molten steel drips from the ceiling, smacking loudly as it hits the floor and disperse, illuminating the darkness. Here, Sassolino’s kinetic sculptures experiment with sparks.

In another room, two giant rotating metal discs coated in thick industrial oil – one red, the other cobalt blue – are constantly in flux. The oil drips slowly down the surfaces as gravity does its thing and, every so often, spills onto a catchment plate. We’re encouraged to watch and wait, which proves to be a satisfying, meditative undertaking.