Live Review: Devendra Banhart, Yon Yonson

Sydney avant-pop outfit Yon Yonson opened with a neat set of sunny tunes that wandered in and out of focus. They have a great sound, sort of like a stripped-back, digital Beach Boys cover band on mushrooms, and they have an impressive amount of subtle detail in their songwriting that would reward multiple listens. As it was they were a fine way to start.

Devendra Banhart is the best kind of weirdo. It's a winning combination of style, talent, and a gentle species of madness that makes him and his band so engaging, and keeps his fans from locking onto any particular feature. When that happens, artists can sometimes struggle to maintain that focal point, but Banhart's nebulous appeal transcends the normal performer-audience relationship. His set at the Factory was case in point. While there were several key moments that one could describe as being fantastic (Seahorse's mind-blowing psychedelic slow jam, or his Orange Juice cover for example), the feeling that lingered with us was akin to gratitude: this kind of show doesn't happen very often.

The weirdness and uniqueness had, at its core, familiar grooves etched deep that resonated, and the deceptively airtight arrangements shimmered and hummed along underneath Banhart's rustic warble. The wonderfully colourful and strange delivery system that is Banhart himself, though, is one of a kind, and it was totally disarming. He is a natural performer, and there was no banter that felt practised or hollow. The evening felt totally fresh and lucid, in a flamboyant kind of way. It flipped from Spanish to English whenever he felt like it, and flippant, hilarious songs were half-created on the spot. The laughs were real and earned, and the warmth radiating off the stage was so awesome to be a part of.