Sunday, August 21, 2011


Have you ever been to a gig where you just cant seem to sing the words because you become so enthralled in what is going on before your eyes?

That when it comes time to applaud, your hands feel like dead weights on the arms of the chair you are sitting in as if you have been paralyzed by a syringe that has injected you from the neck down with lights and sound?

I have, it happened last night at The Opera House during Gotye's animation show.

I saw Gotye at Splendour in the Grass and I have to admit I did not give them the time of day that they deserve as my head was in another world. The gratitude that I feel that I got to experience this genius in another setting at another time is overwhelming.

The animation that accompanied the delicate songs unfolded like origami in front of my eyes made every sense lose control in a foggy whirlwind that encapsulated my entire body.

They opened the show with 'Eyes wide open' and as he smashed the drums that stood to his right it reverberated throughout the entire concert hall and set the tone for the rest of the show. A tone that could only be described as a yearning for something higher, and an optimistic view about how change is possible when it is embraced. I dont mean politically or anything like that, but more that change within ourselves is possible if we want it to be.

The animation that accompanied 'State of the Art' filled the room with cartoon horror as an electric piano came to life and terrorised the family onscreen as well as everyone in the audience.

However, the most haunting part of the display was in 'Don't worry, we are watching you.' in which the animation depicted somewhat of a cult bowing to a higher power that was evil.

'Bronte' carried the most poignant and endearing animation, with a young girl who made friends with a bunch of beasts but as her life changed she lost the friendship physically with the beasts. However, the message remained the same- that no matter how far you go, we will be with you.

The most well known 'Somebody that I used to know' began with some taps on a glockenspiel and ended with a surprise appearance from Kimbra in a little green velvet dress, who casually entered and exited to roaring from the crowd.

Then we came to 'Heart's a mess'. Before the words came out of his mouth I was fighting back tears as the Opera House concert hall turned into a rainy day with cascading gold light dripping down the walls from the roof. His voice somehow does not only reach your ears, but it also touches somewhere within yourself that you have not even discovered yet.

As Wally DeBacker sings out the "tunes" (as he referred to them many times) you can feel exactly what he is thinking. There is no censoring the raw emotion that it seems as though he has no control over. 'Smoke and Mirrors' was the best example of this. You could feel the disdain in the air mixed with the robust percussion and guitar pulsating around us.

He had an impressive rapport with the audience, and it was truly felt when as the final chord was played, the entire concert hall rose to their feet in a standing ovation as the band gathered together for one final bow.

I stand corrected.

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