The Drones are dwarfed on stage by four oversized road cases, but by the death spasms of The Minotaur they own the room. Next is How To See Through Fog, the only offering from new album I See Seaweed, and the usual four-pieces are joined by Steve Hesketh on keys and it works – another huge classic by The Drones with all the bits in the right places. They then surprise with Kev Carmody's River Of Tears, which starts out weird with the lights on but descends into a flood. Shark Fin Blues and a blistering I Don't Ever Want To Change round out a short and sharp set, a little light on in terms of new material.
Hard-hatted and lab-coated men flail about the stage during the interval, and as The Beatles' A Day In The Life blasts through the PA the oversized road cases rise to the ceiling revealing, surprise surprise, oversized novelty amps and speakers. Neil Young & Crazy Horse enter, non-descript in various T-shirt, flannel and denim ensembles (it's notable that Young is wearing a well-worn Australian Aboriginal Flag tee as he did when last here). There's awkwardness to the combination of theatrics and this band of giants being dwarfed on stage; a rendition of the National Anthem accentuates the oddness of the spectacle.
Naturally, Young rips out two or three guitar solos before he utters the first line of the epic Love & Only Love, and once the four-way harmonies are up and running they're pitch perfect. Powderfinger's next and Young's vocals are so crisp, his playing so delightfully organic and slack – like his guitar is not just an extension of his appendages but an annexe to his being – you can't look away.
The string men – Billy Talbot (bass) and Frank 'Poncho' Sampedro (guitar) – huddle with Young, feeding from his noodles. Walk Like A Giant is predictably enormous, new song Hole In The Sky is striking, and just when things get a little samey (song durations well in excess of ten minutes apiece, extended improvised jams and “ooh/ahh” vocals dropped into every available space) the band leave Young with nothing but an acoustic guitar on stage.
Heart Of Gold is an imperfect triumph, though Young gives little away as to whether its inclusion is born from necessity as a crowd favourite or via the merits of the song. In fact, he gives little away throughout the performance. There are glimpses of humour (at one point he quips that a slight guitar strap squeak is actually him being so old he creaks when he walks) and humility – he waves to a lone dancing woman at the side of stage; there's the odd flash of fierceness in his eyes, and the musical communication, in parts, is phenomenal; but really you get very little sense of the man.
Ramada Inn is a gorgeous inclusion and Cinnamon Girl is the bangin'-est of the back end of the set. Cortez The Killer marks a turning point, of sorts, with the lengthy guitar passages bleeding from song to song and the set entering its third hour. The outro is sloppy, and when he heads back to the first line of the song at the death, we're praying he doesn't start the whole thing up over again. Hey Hey My My (Out Of The Blue) and encore number Like A Hurricane tick all the appropriate boxes and the latter ends an ambitious and magnificent three-hour indulgence that delivers as much as you're willing to invest.
