Live Review: sleepmakeswaves, Gay Paris, Glass Ocean

Warming up the largely fashionably late crowd, Sydney’s Glass Ocean have a soulful take on progressive rock, and a difficult job given the renowned live shows of the two acts to follow. 

Gay Paris are an all-consuming rock circus hell-bent on one duty: to bring the party. The energy of frontman Luke Monks – a writhing, fist-punching, fall-down-and-scream-from-the-floor showman – is impressively nearly matched by his brothers in arms, guitarist Lachlan Marks and bassist Dean ‘Slim Pickins’ Podmore, as they whoop, strut and dare every audience member to worship at the alter of Gay Paris. Skyship Of The Contrabandistor closes a thoroughly played set of growling, deviant rock, and Monks skips straight to the merch desk to preach to the converted before the last chord has rung out. Sing it, brother.

After two months touring through Europe and Asia, Sydney’s sleepmakeswaves have hit home soil in peak condition; beginning with the sprawling eight-minute epic To You They Are Birds, To Me They Are Voices In The Forest and a couple of older favourites, the quartet move to the decidedly heavier ground and the beautifully understated euphoria of last year’s second album Love Of Cartography. Traced In Constellations proves to be a well-chosen, progressive segue, and with the full room already caught in wide-eyed wonder, bassist Alex Wilson moves to hit the familiar opening keys of Great Northern – the single by which this tour is named. Guitarist Jonathan Khor builds extra mood amongst the electronic blips with a spare set of drumsticks, and then, the most brutal, gut-punching sound of the night is delivered as the repeated refrain kicks in for the first time. As Khor and Otto Wicks-Green duel to the highest point of melody – each bookending the stage atop foldbacks, guitars held proudly to the ceiling – it’s ironically difficult to put into words the emotion that this instrumental rock band can manage to summon. After moving into broodier territory, the pace kicks up a notch as Perfect Detonator has drummer Tim Adderley working overtime, and an audience member exclaiming, “I need a lie down.” The Stars Are Stigmata shows his knack for building texture too, cradling the kit alongside heartbeat-like samples and showing clever technique amidst stabbing guitars before succumbing to the all-out shred-fest. Something Like Avalanches as the closer sums up sleepmakeswaves well; it’s at once raw, vicious and calculated, yet triumphant in its tenderness.