Live Review: Paul Dempsey, Olympia

An upsurge of screeching, melodic guitar announces the force majeure that is Olympia. Delicately balancing smooth bass-lines with dirty pop undertones, Olympia (Olivia Bartley) makes damn sure the crowd knows she is here. Soaring with opener Honey, Bartley and her bandmates are almost telepathic in their singularity as a unit. Bartley shines as a soloist when she takes to the piano for Biscuits - live looping harmonies in a phenomenal display of musicianship. Although numerous lulls between tracks become noticeable, these momentary lapses are instantly forgiven when Bartley and co play on.

A comparatively subdued entrance to open his act, Paul Dempsey casually saunters to the mic to offer himself to his audience. Beginning with Strange Loop (the title track of Dempsey's latest LP), the Something For Kate frontman wastes no time in proving why he's one of the most revered songwriters in Australia. Dempsey strains on every syllable of Idiot Oracle, with the raspy sincerity that he has become so known for. Flummoxed by the reception of his diehard hometown crowd, Dempsey timidly announces, "It's, uh, things and stuff". Tearing into the sublime Blindspot, Dempsey shows off that signature balance of indie musicality and compositional obscurity he so often returns to.

It is hard to fault a performance such as this. And yet it is Dempsey's faultlessness that proves to be his eventual downfall. The singer shines brightest during the bouts of spontaneity he peppers throughout the performance. However, Dempsey has not deviated from the established setlist for the duration of the tour, voiding the loving crowd from a truly unique experience. Even his jokes are verbatim to previous shows - dedicating Have You Fallen Out Of Love? to Donald Trump for the umpteenth time. It is true that Dempsey is a master of his craft: his solo in Hey History (Don't Go Changin') is explosive and the cover of Television's Elevation is sheer perfection. Nonetheless, what is often branded as assuredly consistent simply becomes overtly predictable.

The most redeeming quality to Dempsey live is undoubtedly his passion for his own work. The methodical attention to detail is quickly overshadowed by his obvious attachment to his lyrics. Scathing when scathing, loving when loving, he knows what he wants in a song and executes it to a point. With Bartley on backing vocals, it is the notes of lyricism and harmonies that elevate the performance above all else.

For the casual concertgoers, this is not the performance of a lifetime. But for the fans, this is pure Dempsey.