For suit-and-tied industry big dogs, Brisvegas’ drunk & belligerent punters and lovers of homegrown talent, a conference like BIGSOUND is our Christmas.
Between the bustle of the mall and the barely hushed hum of neighbouring music venues fighting for your attention, you pack your bags on the final day feeling either rejuvenated or overstimulated. For me, I was both, all the time.
BIGSOUND is a whole different beast, and for a little man music writer like myself, it was a beast that I knew required conquering. What made the journey easy was knowing that the line-up of local talent didn’t fall short. But what made the process almost seamless was knowing that New South Wales acts were here to show out in a big way.
From The Gong to the big smoke of Sydney, here’s how NSW made a stamp on this year’s BIGSOUND.
Jerome Blaze
Sydney’s Jerome Blaze had been on my radar for a couple of months since he released his anthemic debut, Is This What I Have Missed?
For BIGSOUND, Jerome and his band of four brought a symphonic, warm, sonic glow to the neon-coloured backdrop of Fortitude Valley’s Eclipse. It didn’t take too long before you were entirely enthralled in every tender composition, every delicate transition and every story being told through Jerome’s music. The live experience is almost shamanic, as if to remind the audience to breathe, take it all in, and then, in a single huff, let it all back out.
Jerome informed the audience that each song performed was made inside his living room, compact with the “weirdness and imperfection” of making music outside of a studio. The set invites you into that space – every sonic quirk, from the bird chirps to the street ambience, reflects a catalogue of music rooted in honour and adoration for the place he calls home. And for a Sydney girl like me, Jerome’s show felt like home. Between reaffirming glances at each other and smiles that organically and infectiously grew wider as the show progressed, Jerome and his band close the set, hopefully, aware that performances like theirs are what BIGSOUND is all about.
FRIDAY*
I’d be lying if I said the groans of disappointment when someone “didn’t get to see FRIDAY* last night” didn’t make me giggle a little throughout the week. Word travels fast in an environment like this, and I was a Grade-A yapper when it came to talking up FRIDAY* as an artist and as a performer. So, if you weren’t lucky enough to witness one of the most enigmatic artists play some of the best shows of the week, allow me to fill you in.
The bottom floor of Wonderland filled up so quickly ahead of FRIDAY*’s performance that you’d lose your spot in the crowd if you left to get a drink and come back. But whether you’re right at the front enveloped in sweat, toward the sides near the speakers, or nonchalantly at the back, it was an easy challenge for FRIDAY* to make every member of the crowd tenaciously move their body. Unfettered energy and tenacity ensured that you would be moving your body one way or another.
FRIDAY* commands your attention. If not through encouraging the crowd to chant the lyrics or crouch down before a beat drop, your eyes stay fixated on him through this unfettered, David Byrne-esque energy that he possesses. He takes to a crowd of 50 as if he were headlining Splendour In The Grass. Every moment is sacred, and if you’re lucky to be in the room where it all happened, cherish it.
Zion Garcia
Though the upstairs of La La Land looked seemingly empty before alt hip-hop connoisseur Zion Garcia took to the stage, the room would soon be full and woken up by the vivacious, endearingly cheeky and unbelievably talented artist fronting the stage.
In between songs like HANDHOLDER and MUNCH, Zion plays the iconic Netflix opening title soundbite as a nod to his interests in film, and a Tony Hawk’s Underground soundbite as a nod to nostalgia and his personal sanctuary that was, and perhaps still is, the PlayStation 2.
While he giggles at himself and talks loosely to the crowd about who he is and what each song is about, you’re instantly transported into his world from the press of a play button. The nonchalant, sweet mic breaks in between forehead wipes attest to an artist who is still grappling with the idea that a crowd of people – in an entirely different city from the one he knows – are dancing, singing, and rapping along to his music.
During his upbeat house cuts, Zion’s untroubled onstage presence is comparable to the striking movements of Gorillaz‘s character 2-D, allowing the music to fully take over as the show comes to a cathartic end.
Private Wives
Playing to a full (and, for the most part, stiff-bodied) room of industry folk is no easy feat for anyone. Still, the all-girl punk trio Private Wives refused to forfeit the lacklustre energy of the space they were fronting.
Driving guitars, infernal screams, and in-your-face demands soon saw the room of stiffs cleared out, and space made for the real punters and appreciators of punk to ever so slightly let loose. Patrons raised their glasses in alliance with lyrics that resonated, heads would shake and bop and throw, and soon, the ambience of the bar behind us was tuned out by nothing by guttural, throat-punching punk music.
Even though the room was less than half full by the time Private Wives wrapped up, they had well and truly made their mark as no-bullshit punk girls from The Gong.
Devaura
Devaura is undoubtedly a standout act.
From beginning to end, she captivated the Wonderland upstairs area with her high energy and by being viscerally vulnerable with the crowd. Her unworried attitude over niceties and courtesy in a space accommodating an unspoken “rule book” is refreshing. There is nothing about her that is worried about being palatable, and there is nothing about her that is willing to be boxed into industry standards. She is Devaura through and through, and you either take it or leave it.
Devaura’s uncompromising free spirit and hilarious contextual storytelling in between songs made the set feel intimate, and made her feel more familiar – like a big sister who is always “I told you so”ing you and passing down knowledge from lessons she’s had to learn the hard way. Watching her onstage was liberating, as if with every jump and hair whip, she was also letting go of the hardships she had dealt with and healing from the traumas that made her the strong-willed, loud and proud person she is now.
The show ends with the crowd applauding her for several minutes as she sobs into the shoulders of her bandmates. In that moment, you could tell that nothing was more reaffirming for Devaura than having a room of people simultaneously see you and validate your art.
