Live Review: Mumford & Sons, Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, Willy Mason

For those that haven't spent an evening at Belvoir Amphitheatre, reaching the top in the half-dark of a Spring evening is like the moment in every '90s Western when the rider's horse stops suddenly and the camera pans out to reveal a breathtaking vista or a plummeting canyon – it is an arresting sight. Thankfully, the rain (mostly) held off for a Friday night with a festival feel – flags fluttering, smoke on the breeze and a line-up much, much more than 'headliner plus others'.

From a vantage on the upper steppe the early crowd made a tight fan at the front row rail, iron filings to a Willy Mason magnet. No doubt some of the audience had bought tickets on the strength of Mason alone, and why not? There is something of Johnny Cash about the Oxygen singer, and his folky rock'n'roll made the perfect thin end of the wedge, and introduction to the evening.

Turning up the current, second act Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros pulled spectators from the sides of the amphitheatre down and in to the standing/dancing zone. Alex Ebert's stage presence and dancehall skank were a physical embodiment of the band's familiar, joyous tunes; songs including Man On Fire, Home and a beautiful version of 40 Day Dream. Vocalist Jade Castrinos and her tambourine gently swayed with the breeze, and the band got the audience's vocal chords, dancing feet and iPhone fingers warm for Marcus et al.

Lovers' Eyes from new album Babel opened Mumford & Sons' first performance of their Australian tour, Marcus Mumford's seething vocal penetrating the pitch black, spatters of rain falling in silent acquiescence to the drama beneath. When the lights went up for the chorus, the crowd were as one – stage, dancefloor and steps shifting and seamless. A brace from debut Sigh No More followed, Little Lion Man chasing Winter Winds in to Holland Road – the first time live for another from Babel. The band are known for their multi-instrumentalism, and traded throughout the set, musical chairs slowing down to find Marcus on drumkit and vocals for Dustbowl Dance.

Ted Dwayne beat the drums like a blacksmith's anvil for first encore Whispers In The Dark, the crescendo building to a soaring, euphoric The Cave. Surely this was the evening the builders of Belvoir imagined when they put pen to paper and spade to soil – the Coliseum gave these songs of Christians and lion men four and a half thousand thumbs up.