Live Review: Devin Townsend Project, sleepmakeswaves

Sydney's sleepmakeswaves are steady becoming regulars in these parts, having already played two of their own headlining shows in Brisbane in the past ten months.

It's still a real pleasure to see them here tonight, however, as they pay their dues to one of the great pioneers of the game. The sound is staggering, serving up the dynamic interplay of these well oiled musicians on a crystal clear platter, which enables each and every compositional progression to find its full effect. Their older songs are in as fine form as ever and the material from this year's Made Of Breath Only is easily up to par, with single Tundra especially hitting the mark. The shorter time slot enables them to give 110% throughout, and when the close of their set draws near it seems a little unfathomable that there will ever be a way to bring such forceful momentum to a halt.

The intervening entertainment of Ziltoid Radio draws to a close, setting the stage for the arrival of his earthly counterpart and his comrades. As the Devin Townsend Project walk on, Townsend steps straight into his comic guise, yelling something to the effect of, "ready to do a bunch of cheesy rock stuff?" They let a few bass detonations roll out of the speakers, which hit like a triplet of mini sonic booms and serve as an apt volume warning, before commencing with Sky Blue opener Rejoice. Night is up next, and while it doesn't quite capture all the glory of its studio counterpart, even a part measure of such tortured brilliance is enough to stand out in its own right. The sonic floodgates are then well and truly let loose for Stormbending and Failure, with no signs of respite in sight.

He lightens the room up with Hyperdrive and Where We Belong, before hitting us again where it hurts, with long-time live standout Deadhead, and then eases off once more with Ziltoid Goes Home, Supercrush! and March Of The Poozers. In the early days, Townsend often seemed near crushing point beneath the heaviness of life's existential weight. All this may have made for some stunningly exquisite music, but at what cost for the person underneath it all. The bell toll that has clearly rung out through the rock community these past few days has hit our ears with all the intensity of the angelic voice that once escaped its pained Jesus Christ Pose, and thus it's more reassuring than ever to look up on the stage tonight and see an artist that has somewhat laid down his martyr's mantle to creatively walk a path of self-preservation. By no means at all does Townsend now shy away from the confrontation of it all, yet he seems to have found more of an equilibrium. Transcendence is the perfect example of this; it confronts the heaviest of themes, but with an overarching optimism that keeps it all in balance. In most other cases, humour and cheese-topped tomfoolery have become the answer. And if there's one thing that the live show makes a solid case for, it's just how darn good Townsend is at playing the role of this kind of entertainer and delivering an evening of epic fun, which is, of course, not without its emotional depths and complexities.

The mighty Kingdom brings the set to a 'close' and the band departs, leaving Townsend to go on a small satirical bit about encores. He steps off stage, only to return a very brief moment later and beckon his guitar tech for an acoustic. His attempts to start a stripped-down version of Ih-Ah! are foiled by flat batteries, forcing him to entertain us with his charming banter for a slightly more sustained moment. Upon asking for ideas of what to talk about, one punter, perhaps a little naive to Townsend's customary temperament concerning the subject, yells out Strapping Young Lad. A vitriolic rant comes oozing out, complete with the characteristic coating of humorous witticisms, and the room erupts with applause at its crashing end. Most would be left gasping after such a machine-gun monologue, but it's evident that the man standing before us is well-trained in such arts.

Once it finally gets under way, it's rather surprising just how well Ih-Ah! works in this form. Not only does it provide an added sense of intimacy to the occasion, but it also injects a much-needed dose of dynamism into what is often a hyper-saturated offering of frequencies. The spectrum is explored further again with Ocean Machine's ten-minute opus, Bastard, and in all its devastation, it is simply majestic. Townsend brings things back to balance with a quick quip, "It sucks the fun right out of the room that one," and finally brings things home with Higher, leaving the set to ring out on a final note of salvation.