Renee Geyer“There's always someone in the audience who says 'she's off her face'. If only you knew how much I WANT to be off my face, but I don't do that no more” Renee Geyer deadpanned mid set to a mixture of laughs, applause and dry appreciation. Her stage prowling is hardly schtick but the kind of thing that would make headlines for a pup in her profession. It's also the type of ambiguity that the likes of Sarah Blakso and Lorde have picked up and continue to fly. Geyer still has no filter - or no interest in filtering - how music makes her feel, including when it makes her giddy, and as such she's lost nothing of her appeal. When things don't go to plan (a screeching mic that she told to 'shut up' repeatedly, mid song; an audience member not a fan of her whistling) the threat of Difficult Woman is present, but the beauty is that there's never a sense of artificiality. Instead, these asides prove she's not acting but performing, and such reactions inspire her delivery of standards like Midnight Train To Georgia, It's A Man's Man's Man's World, Heading In The Right Direction and of course her Kelly penned swan song Difficult Woman.
Geyer's vocal tone remains both vulnerable and powerful, supported by equal parts flirting and rousing on the band in between sets (her leaning on support and main keys player Clayton Dooley's organ a mixture of business and pleasure). The room was warm and rowdy by the time it came to encore (with props to Dooley whose support in his own trio was contributed greatly, as well as an impressive Geyer band), and while there was a bit of backchat (including a brave soul who'd sung their own break in It's A Man's Man's Man's World) the vibe overwhelming was good natured. Geyer had begun her set by asking 'who's managing this place now? It's changed, come and meet us', but by the end she seemed not to care, 'Sydney's my home, I don't mind who's in charge, I love playing this place'. Come home again any time, Renee.
