Daytime Deewane at Riverside, Gordi, Burna Boy, Calamity Jane at the Sydney Opera House, Karnivool

Karnivool guitarist Mark Hosking takes to the microphone to thank the audience for sticking with them over the years, while admitting that they are a band that needs the patience of their fans.

He says they’re postponing shows – a reference to the fact that tonight’s concert was originally scheduled for last July, before illness left the quintet unable to perform – and that years must pass between albums.

Indeed, when will they set new records? In verses Set to be released in 2026, it will be only their fourth feature film since they formed in Perth in 1998, and will come a whopping 13 years after its predecessor. Asymmetry.

In the here-here-then-today nature of music stardom in 2025, it’s rare for a band to be so dismissive of their debut schedule, yet still command the kind of loyalty that would see them sell out the 2,500-capacity Enmore Theater with ease.

It’s obvious that they share a special bond with their audience.

From the genuine joy on vocalist Ian Kenny’s face as he greets the crowd, to the way the punters break into a mass chorus as they zoom in. New Day and thundering ThemesThe overwhelming feeling from both the band and the audience is one of release. The band’s mastery of creating musical tension also adds to this feeling.

Drummer Steve Judd’s mind-blowingly complex rhythms and intricate guitar interplay between Hosking and Drew Goddard come together to create a dark, intense, prog-metal symphony that builds to an epic thunderous climax. Dead Man and incredibly heavy Blue cheese.

It opens with one of two new tracks released by Karnivool this year drone and put the other, AosaurusThe third song is inside. They’re doing this instead of getting a cheap win by opening with an old favorite Ivory (which appears later in the set) speaks volumes about the band’s confidence and the trust they have in their audience to join them on the journey.

But almost three decades later, these fans know the deal: Karnivool will march to the beat of their own drum and indulge their musical whims, unconcerned with the demands of the mainstream. In return, they will put on a masterful show like this.

MUSIC
BURNA CHILD
Qudos Bank Arena, October 18
Commented by SHAMIM RAZAVI
★★★½

Burna Boy’s current tour is taking him where no African artist has gone before, and his first headline show in Sydney is no exception: it’s hard to imagine the Olympic Park hosting a Nigerian party of this size, with even the food trucks showcasing their best rice and swallow imitations. The atmosphere inside the arena was authentic Afrofusion: an Afrobeats base with aesthetic influences from the rest of the world.

This African basis has always been present; in Yoruba-Pidgin lyrics, use of the talking drum, and to sugar The instruments are steeped in infectious familial informality – but fused with global elements, from Kingston Town rhythms to Ed Sheeran aesthetics straight from the wastelands of Ipswich: a sound as global as it is down-to-earth.

Burna’s studio production is polished and complex; which can be disappointing live in the hands of a less talented artist. This is not the case with the African Giant: in his case, less polish and more flair actually flourished on his overstuffed recordings. His baritone particularly benefited from concert treatment; With AutoTune turned down, we are reminded of the charm and intensity that sets his performance apart from his peers. Actually, a cappella entrance Plenty He completely abandons his vocal filters, and as a result, he sounds truly masterful.

This willingness to experiment and mix things up came at the price of occasional misfires. The bank on this transformed with a straight jazz vibe, complete with a saxophone line taken straight from the Kenny G songbook: More halls than Lagos; The CGI screen backgrounds were artificial rather than clever, and the occasional onstage keytar only emphasized the odd aesthetic choice, as if someone had escaped from a wedding band.

Judging by the variety of audience underwear thrown onto the stage, no one seemed to care. Shirtless in the second song, Burna Boy works hard to develop that rich voice and charisma. Yes And The End The End. But still, despite all the heat and magnetism, something was missing; A looseness and unbridledness that will turn this beautiful night into a wonderful one: the space between the smoldering flame and the fire.

MUSIC
GORDI
Playhouse, Sydney Opera House, 17 October
Reviewed by BERNARD ZUEL
★★★½

Although none of this happened during the performance, two medical segments punctuated this show and told us something about Sophie Payten in both normal and Gordi mode, in medical and musical personas.

Less than what was told in the funny semi-pantomime was relevant when one of Payten’s songs at the dentist happened: Heaven I Knowmade it onto the surgery playlist, as if the universe was helping convince them that he really was a musician. Onstage, the song built from layers of looped and lively vocals and slowly accumulating instruments until it had an alternating chorus that acted as a sort of halo around the simple lines of closure and acceptance. “Yeah, I’m old and we’re tired/I know we tried.”

More seriously, the other story featured a patient of Payten, who completed his medical training during and immediately after the COVID quarantines, who took the news of his impending death with a composure beyond most of us and left an impression on his young doctor.

The two songs inspired by this experience were not leaden, but a warm rush of energy pushing everything forward, a mash-up of Elliott Smith and Bon Iver that felt like pure pop buried in misty winter.

Around these three songs, the material containing all the tracks of his new album, like plasticineand scattered takes from previous releases, Payten/Gordi oscillated between endings and rebuilding, moving back and forth from thickened layers to modestly proportioned instrumentation, unintuitively guitar-driven lively when crushed and synth-filled earnest when emotionally uplifting, and often distorting his sound through various effects as if he didn’t want clarity to be confused with reality.

The songs found him uncertain about searching for love (“Do you care? Do you care?/Don’t make me your peripheral lover”), failing (“I put a part of my heart to use/Not anymore”), and rising back up with the certainty of comfort (“I know the pressure you feel seems cruel/But everything is temporary except you and me”).

And then I close it with this: Can we handle this?In the midst of a dilemma – ready to believe but also ready to regret – he threw us the loudest and brightest song of the night with its solid driving force and almost effervescent vocal slices.

THEATRE
DAY DEEWANE
Riverside, October 18th through October 25th
Reviewed by KATE PRENDERGAST
★★★★

In Britain in the 1980s, a new underground subculture emerged after racist club bouncers denied anyone with brown skin their share of the night. These were Daytimers led by South Asian collectives; daytime parties where outcast ravers can gather on their own terms, with their own DJs, and dance to new music that blends bass-driven Bhangra, Asian garage, and diasporic jungle.

Azan Ahmed is staging his award-winning play in 2022 at the last Daytimer party in London in 1997. Sixteen-year-old Farhan (Ariyan Sharma) nervously runs towards his first party in his school uniform, wondering if Islam forbids dancing. His 20-year-old rough-boy cousin Sadiq (Ashan Kumar) bounces around impatiently in a wife-beating vest and chains, performing rhapsodies on the dance floor’s truly radical tenets of defiance, humanism and the liberation of love.

Built on twists in character foils, Daytime Deewane It unfolds as the story of two very different young Muslim men, each trying to define the means and methods of self-respect against the values ​​and expectations of his own heritage. It loses its rhythm in the final stretch – the time jump to the reunion scene strikes an out-of-tune chord and leaves us with an ambiguous moral implication – but there’s a lot to be highly considered in this play about immigration, masculinity and faith.

The two leads go from point to point to bring humor and depth to the Australian premiere of Riverside. Sharma gives us signature nonsense as the dutiful young square, cutting Farhan into the strangest of shapes as an aspirational “peacock” bro while asking where the prayer room is.

This is Kumar’s first appearance on the main stage; He brings to the uber-masculine Sadiq a muscular swagger, an easy style, and a clear courage against the vulnerabilities of someone with only one clear exit strategy. Among the stacks of speakers drenched in neon lights and at director Sepy Baghaei’s disposal, we see the cousins’ close bond of childlike joy and affection, connecting across the chasm of their different priorities.

Like the party’s sanctuary, their perfect brotherhood is an ideal constantly under siege. The first rupture occurs when Sadiq’s sweet talk (directly directed at the women in the audience) turns into slut-shaming, leading to Farhan’s first challenge to the man he idolized growing up. The subject of their father is the real trigger; One is about to be deported, the other is disappointed in his “stupid” son. The baggage they carry means they take different journeys through life. It would take a lot for everyone not to read this as betrayal.

Daytime The first play by the English poet Ahmed (who has since written and staged it several more times), shifting naturalism to slam by adding rhymes to its characters’ monologues. While it may not all work out, it’s a bold decision that has some payoff. Chrysoulla Markoulli’s Daytimer tracklist is exciting. If you’re a punter with that particular raver blood, it can be hard to sit still.

A modern game that extends to the old style, Daytime Deewane brings a lost scene of the beautiful rebellion of the diaspora to Parramatta with top-notch leads. If possible, add this to your dance card.