Harry StylesThe hallways of Hisense Arena crackle with excitement, as what seems like every single teenage girl in Melbourne arrives for their date with destiny. Their collective destiny? Harry Styles.
Each one of them is decked out in their finest threads (baker boy caps, striped pants and patent everything are very in this season, BTW), juuuust in case he looks their way. They sit in groups and make signs, they cut confetti and they stand patiently in a miles-long merch line. Having mostly reviewed gigs where the general audience vibe is self-aware cool detachment, this feverish excitement and anticipation is a jolt. While the merch line is enormous, the bar line is miniscule and with tiny plastic cups of sauv blanc in hand it is time to head into the arena where The Preatures are kicking off their set.
The band receive a warm welcome, warmer in fact than any support band has received in this writer's memory. Frontwoman Isabella Manfredi stalks the stage like a jungle cat, with enough attitude to make Chrissy Amphlett proud. "We know how lucky we are to be supporting Harry", she says, the mere mention of his name bringing a preview of the screams in store for us later. Closer Is This How You Feel? is unbelievably sexy, and the crowd eat it up. As far as a support slot goes, they've taken a swing and connected with a well-put-together setlist stuffed with pop jewels.
The wrists and hands of a cartoon Harry Styles twist a Rubix cube to Pink Floyd's Shine On You Crazy Diamond, counting down to go time as fans breathlessly debate which outfit he'll walk out in (a black-and-gold Alexander McQueen suit, tailored to perfection). As the houselights drop, the screaming starts. It's not your run-of-the-mill concert screaming, it is a frenzied, throat-tearing shriek as loud as one million jet engines. Styles gallops across the stage, blowing kisses and dancing his way into Only Angel, a track reminiscent of The Rolling Stones' Brown Sugar. It's swaggering and he wears his influences on his gold-leaf sleeve; a dash '70s Bowie, a drop of Mick Jagger, a splash of Soul Train. It's easy to get lost in the spectacle of it all, but, production aside, his vocal chops are solid. He certainly has magnetism: part Jagger, part televangelist.
Woman drips with sexual frustration and is an early highlight. "Hello, Melbourne. My name is Harry. It's a pleasure to be with you tonight," Styles beams and is promptly buried by more screams. He also sings a couple of bars of Daryl Braithwaite's The Horses, which is sung back at a deafening level. He goes on to do this half a dozen more times during the set.
The fandom is real, and their hearts are in the right place, but wouldn't it be divine if they allowed Styles just the littlest bit of breathing room? Everything that he does, and even doesn't do, is followed by all-out screaming fits reminiscent of the reactions received by Elvis or The Beatles. When Styles slips his guitar around his shoulders, he eerily resembles The King at his most beautiful.
Styles plays Stockholm Syndrome, made famous with his previous group One Direction, and Just A Little Bit Of Your Heart (written by Styles for Ariana Grande) is pop perfection with enough edge to knock the saccharine off Grande's rendition. Styles is a born charmer and his banter with the crowd is genuine, self-deprecating and funny; hilarity ensues when he reflexively catches a flying object that turns out to be a bra.
Teasing an unreleased track, Medicine is definitely about fuckin' and is a straight-up bop. Meet Me In The Hallway has a definite Pink Floyd swirl. Adjourning to the B-stage at the back of the room, Styles starts with Sweet Creature as security desperately try to stop a tidal wave of teenage girls from toppling over the barrier. A couple of sweet creatures in the crowd hold a sign aloft that reads, "I love you more than you love Gucci," — of all of the signs unfurled tonight, this one wins, hands down.
Sign Of The Times allows Styles to be heard properly for one of only a few times during the show, and the song's arrangement and performance is sweeping, grand and lush.
He departs the stage as The Horses booms from the speakers: it's a long-game well played, Styles. Popping back for the requisite encore, he plays From The Dining Table. Sparse, honest, melancholic - he seems to lose himself in it. The audience are even still for a moment. Indeed, it is this song that gives the best glimpse of Styles' potential: it's certainly the best performance of the night. A cover of Fleetwood Mac's The Chain is pleasing and bursting with tension, and closer Kiwi is an explosion.
Styles could have taken the easy route, delivering a lazy, One Direction-lite album, playing a lacklustre show with little enthusiasm and still bringing the house down. He COULD have, but he didn't. From start to finish, Styles' show was energetic, his vocals powerful and his performance polished. As his lyrical content moves away from his tween fanbase, it will be interesting to see how Styles continues to make the transition from teen heartthrob to fully formed solo artist. Tonight is certainly a step in one direction: the right direction.
