Self-professed ‘legend’ is all show and no go
Updated ,first published
MUSIC
NSC
Qudos Bank Arena, April 14
Reviewed by JAMES JENNINGS
★★½
“The funny thing about legends is, they don’t set out to be legends. They just burn so brightly that the rest of us can’t look away.”
So is the self-aggrandizing narrative that opens MGK’s first Sydney show in eight years, and while there’s plenty of evoking music legends of the past – tonight’s sample lyrics include “I’m bad to the bone”, “I was born to walk the line” and “I’m a rollstone” (from a song called Clichewhich gives false hope that some self-awareness is involved) – the truth is that MGK has as much depth and originality as a blank sheet of paper. It’s not the legendary stuff.
Still, it’s easy to see why the man known to the tax department as Colson Baker attracted a sellout crowd; he’s a tall, handsome rooster who can sing, rap and write pop-punk songs that will make the algorithm happy. But for someone who fancies himself a legendary rock star, MGK’s meager influences seem mostly reduced to irreverent but toothless pop-punks Blink-182, with some goofy nu metal from Limp Bizkit thrown in for bad measure.
There’s also trying to look like Iggy and the Stooges, which looks more like an energy drink commercial (Don’t Wait, Run Fast), plus a few clumsy interpolations: Starman manages to create the chorus of Third Eye Blind’s upbeat 1997 hit Semi-Enchanted Life a sullen and lifeless voice and ‘Lonely Road’John Denver’s return Take Me Home, Country Road It’s nothing more than a cynical ploy for the country charts.
We thought we were already at an embarrassing point but then MGK puts on his backwards baseball cap to rap Wild Child. It’s hard to get past his outdated — even quaint — idea of what rock ‘n’ roll rebellion might look like in 2026: riding fast motorcycles, wagging fingers and smoking cigarettes.
It’s hard to imagine why Bob Dylan, one of music’s greatest wordsmiths, was a fan of MGK, given his terrible lyrics. Still, you can’t blame MGK for having fun and living out his childish, oddly conceptualized rock’n’roll fantasy on this energetic show, even if it all seems as calculated as a mid-career pop-punk pivot.
MUSIC
JON ROSE IS 75 YEARS OLD
Australasian People’s Republic, 12 April
Reviewed by JOHN SHAND
★★★★½
I first wrote about Jon Rose 43 years ago. While I have the misfortune of being 43 years older, his art is not. Still the same fresh, fun, surprising, beautiful, disruptive, creative and challenging. The challenge is internal. Rose has devoted his life to making music without idiom, mostly through free improvisation, as here.
He is a 75-year-old, internationally renowned figure, and although this undoubtedly warms his heart, it does not change anything when he picks up his violin; when the aural canvas is initially as empty as ever and every performance is an adventure into the unknown.
Given that he has lived in Alice Springs for several years, it was a rare appearance in Sydney at the quirky venue of broadcaster Nick Shimmin’s breakroom, which he opens to experimental artists and an email-list-only audience.
For this, he chose saxophonist Jim Denley and double bassist Clayton Thomas, with whom he has been collaborating for decades and only recently. Like Rose, both have a virtuosity that goes beyond mere talent and climbs to the outer limits of what is possible on each instrument.
Sitting just a meter or two away from them is to be transported into an intoxicating theater of sound, because watching them make the music is as captivating as the music itself. The process and the result are one and the same. You can watch Thomas play bass in a variety of ways, above and below the bridge, sometimes with two bows in one hand, sometimes in each; or Denley using a pot lid over the alto cymbal to make a rubbing or vibrating sound while at the same time semi-muting the horn; or Rose’s use of her violin as a percussion instrument with limitless potential.
While all three naturally sought ways to improve what was happening, Rose in particular used her slippery, spidery violin to disrupt anything that threatened to bog down in predictability.
It could be the music you bathe in or the music you hold onto as it takes you on a turbulent journey, and it was always the music of opposites: the music of extreme pitches; from unusual textures; fragmented rhythms and elusive tonal centers.
Then would come a moment of blinding beauty, like a melody heard in a distant, unattainable past. Each actor intuitively branched out to drop complex duets here and there, and one of them, between Rose and Denley, was so texturally surprising it was like music from another dimension.
The interaction was routinely mysterious. Of course, it’s partly a matter of listening intensely to each other, but there are also strange rapprochements. In a memorable part of the second set, violin and alto cried out plaintively over massive, granite-like pillars of bass.
In another section, Denley growls on his saxophone, Rose sounds like a house creaking in a storm, and Thomas gives a forewarning of the apocalypse, before all three are suddenly drawn to the tiniest snippets of sound, and then to the ghosts of those sounds.
MUSIC
Bic Runga
Municipality Recital Hall, April 12
Reviewed by AMBER CUNNEEN
★★★★
Bic Runga had to be away from home to find the freedom to write her new album. He temporarily moved from New Zealand to Paris and reconnected with his muse. red sunset, The first collection of original material since 2011.
This tour marks a homecoming for himself and audiences in Aotearoa and Australia.
Runga takes the stage inconspicuously, without introduction, to play drums for support act Silicon (the debut of creative and romantic partner Kody Nielson). Shrouded in the same soft lighting and projected silhouettes, Runga is indistinguishable from the other performers except for her red dress and famous face.
Moving into her own set, she takes center stage, seemingly still agreeing to return to solo billing. Initially withdrawn in front of the microphone, he relaxes when given an instrument (by the end of the night he’ll deftly switch between four numbers) and blossoms throughout the hour: frontman Bic Runga is back.
Red Sunset more artistic and experimental than past albums. Runga is aware of this change, although he is not confident. He hopes that we will accept the material (and not just To shake). The set list reflects this. Runga marks each track as “old” or “new”, alternating between decades every few minutes. This is a smart approach. Runga’s vulnerability is endearing and the room is behind him.
His older music is a better indication of his talents. But even the songs that failed in their studio incarnation Red Sunset It gains a shine when played live. Onstage, she glides through octaves with apparent clarity, her vocals able to break free from the album’s ambient instrumentation. Nielson is also dynamite, pushing the audience towards every number when it’s his turn to play the drums.
To spread, Music performed alone on the electric guitar is magnetic. And for those who come for it To shake – so who can blame them? – The ’90s juggernaut is holding up, and audiences are enjoying it.
COMEDY
Glenn Moore: Please sir, Glenn, do I have some Moore?
Comedy Store, April 9
Reviewed by DANIEL HERBORN
★★★★
Many comedians have a few tried-and-tested jokes they keep in their back pockets, ready to use if their new material doesn’t work. British comedian Glenn Moore has a book of these security measures; It appears that he makes a big impact on the show, as do expertly crafted one-liners. Mock the Week And Do I have news for you?.
He also has a second book he can use when things are going well, which includes the worst joke he’s ever written. This may sound like cheating, but Please sir, Glenn Do I have some Moore? nothing else. Top-notch observational humor is built on rock-solid, old-fashioned joke writing, with puns and puns arriving at a relentless pace.
The backbone of the narrative is a journey Moore took through Death Valley with his cousin Benji about 10 years ago. Although Benji is an obnoxious type, Moore is so intimidated by confident people that he once made a deal with a waiter and gave his name as “Greg Moore”.
When Benji ignores Moore’s instructions and the pair become dangerously lost and low on gas, he is forced to choose between an out-of-character confrontation and meekly accepting the blame. There’s a bit too much emphasis on this simple story, while the real attraction here is the hilarious digressions, which range from why strippers dress like only the most important professions to why Julius Caesar was so successful to the ingenious way Moore sabotaged his rival’s Google autocomplete.
Packed with jokes and comebacks so good they could be used in a masterclass to unlock maximum fun with a clever structure, this early Sydney Comedy Festival show is a great start to this year’s event. Suffice to say, Moore had to tell his “worst joke ever” at one point, and even that led to huge laughs.
John Shand has written about music and theater for more than 30 publications since 1981, including for Fairfax Media since 1993. He is also a playwright, author, poet, librettist, drummer, and winner of the 2017 Walkley Arts Journalism Award.Connect with: X.
