It’s a little trip down memory lane for Australian singer-songwriter Gordi, who recounts about opening up for Of Monsters And Men the last time they were in Australia and played this very same venue. “We’re all a bit older, post-pandemic, and we’re really happy to be back playing together with people like you,” she says.
Gordi plays us a mix of songs from a bunch of her records, including her latest, Like Plasticine, but gives us a heads up before she starts Heaven I Know – “I do a little vocal loop so any loud sounds you make will get stuck in the loop and you’ll hear them for the next five minutes, so choose your own adventure!” she laughs.
Her set carries a quiet confidence with an atmospheric blend of indie folk and electronic textures, layered with synths alongside her intimate vocals, filling the theatre. Rather than attempting to overpower the room, she leans into subtlety, drawing the audience inward with understated storytelling and beautifully restrained arrangements on tracks like Volcanic and Cutting Room Floor.
Of Monsters and Men opens with their lead single Television Love from their latest album, All Is Love and Pain in the Mouse Parade. They ease the audience into the evening with shimmering instrumentation and the unmistakable chemistry between singers Nanna Bryndís Hilmarsdóttir and Ragnar “Raggi” Þórhallsson, who mesmerise us with their beautiful harmonies. Their voices serve as the emotional engine of the band, and throughout the night, they move effortlessly between tenderness and explosive release.
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They quickly shift gears into Dream Team and the much-loved King and Lionheart, which draws one of the loudest sing-alongs as the crowd takes over entire choruses. More than a decade after their breakthrough, these songs in a live setting prove they have certainly not lost any emotional weight.
They take a little break between songs to have some light-hearted banter with the audience, so they can try and slow down a bit as they’ve just flown forty hours to get here. Raggi describes feeling like he’s having an out-of-body experience on stage as he takes it all in.
One of the most surprising moments early in the set comes with Tuna in a Can. Often overshadowed by the band’s bigger singles, the track is driven by heavier percussion and a rougher edge than its studio version. It flows seamlessly into a song from their second album called Human, and then the band moves into their darker, more atmospheric tendencies for Kamikaze from their latest album, which is a song Nanna describes as about when your brain is telling you stupid stuff and to say it in front of other people.
Styrofoam Cathedral unfolds slowly and deliberately before erupting into layered instrumentation and crashing crescendos. It showcases the band at their most cinematic as they construct their strange emotional worlds through song. The crowd remains transfixed with even quieter moments met by attentive silence. They then launch into Alligator with ferocious energy that ignites dancing in the aisles.
Newer material like The Actor and The Block sit comfortably beside the older favourites, evidence that the band’s evolution has been more gradual refinement than reinvention. Their newer songs may trade some of the explosive folk-pop immediacy that first launched them globally, but these tracks build momentum in a live setting perfectly in a different way.
One of the most charming moments comes with Mouse Parade and highlights the band’s chemistry as they form a circle in the centre of the stage around a single microphone at the end of the song to share a beautiful group harmony that feels like a prayer.
The emotional peak comes in with Dirty Paws and from the opening horn-like refrain, the audience gets up on their feet for the rest of the show. The song remains one of indie folk’s defining live experiences that unfolds like part campfire anthem, part mythic fever dream. Hearing hundreds of voices join together for the climactic refrain inside the Palais Theatre is a joyous and euphoric moment. It’s followed by Crystals and Ordinary Creature, both delivered with muscular intensity and thunderous percussion.
Little Talks proves to still have the same power in a live setting that it did when it was released back in 2011. The opening trumpet melody triggers instant recognition and quickly gets every person in the venue singing along.
The main set closes with Visitor, which is a fitting atmospheric ending before the inevitable encore. Returning to an enormous applause, the band strips things back slightly for The End, creating one of the night’s most intimate moments. The emotional restraint of the song contrasts beautifully with the more explosive earlier material.
For a special treat for their fans, they add an old favourite to the setlist. “This song is an early day song and one of the very first songs that we played together as a band,” says Nanna before they share the tender track Love Love Love.
Fruit Bat serves at the closing track played in all eight minutes of its glory and delivered with one of their most carefully controlled emotional builds as they layer an increasingly growing tension, texture and volume that explodes with emotional release to bring the show to an end.
What makes Of Monsters and Men endure isn’t simply nostalgia for a particular indie-folk era. It’s the emotional sincerity they bring to every performance. As they take a final bow before us, the crowd gives a standing ovation with gratitude for the profound connection the power of their music brings.
