Live Review: Josh Pyke, Patrick James, Olympia

As one of the few Gold Coast venues capable of pulling big names, the SoundLounge could benefit from a makeover, or makeunder – there's just a certain uncool vibe about its rectangular, carpeted, curtained hall-for-hire-like space. Melburnian chanteuse Olympia is not only a sight for sore eyes but a blissful resonance in the ears. Her diminutive frame houses a powerhouse voice, switching from the breathy urgency of Atlantis to the blistering beltings in Salt. Starkly lit and poignantly elegant all in white with a creamy old Gibson, this won't be the last we see of this enigmatic young lady.

By now the usual SoundLounge sit-in at the front half of the room is full of friends and lovers, curious to see exactly why the next support has been the recent talk of the town. The barely-out-of-his-teens Patrick James has been gifted with an easy charm that instantly wins over the distracted, not to mention his bent for sentiment in Brighter Lights. He and his three-piece's harmonies and dutiful banjo plucks on Bugs are the highlight, but the thumping motif in the everyman's Wake, prefaced by his musings that his drummer looks like Jim Carrey (he does), is a fine bookend for a great set.

The stubborn are still seated when Josh Pyke wanders on stage and there is a distinct tension that seems to emanate from this fact. He warmly effuses it's the first time he's played this venue, but there is something odd about having people sit at your feet. Kindergarten story, anyone? Goldmines is the perfect moody opener before settling into his more upbeat back catalogue; Memories And Dust, Forever Song, The Summer, The Lighthouse Song all happily ride on its coat tails. When a few, possibly soaked, punters dance their way to the front (heaven forbid), Pyke congratulates them, “I gotta say, I prefer you all standing up, you're all beautiful people, own that shit!” He and his three players are spot on energy-wise, and the sound in general has been a surprisingly solid mix all night. An encore in this small space is almost redundant, given there's not really a side stage as such, but Middle Of The Hill is flawless as usual, and his intro to finale Bug Eyed Beauty – “this song is really hard to play, so this is my rendition of my own song” – wins over on charm alone. An easygoing and musically immaculate evening.