Live Review: Bryan Ferry, Olympia

Oh, the vagaries of live equipment. No doubt everything worked beautifully during soundcheck for Melbourne singer Olympia. However, 30 seconds into her set, she loses all power to her guitar. Olivia Bartley powers on regardless though, until the techs fix things and she is able to complete her 30-minute opening set. 

Somewhat of an oddity, although an enjoyable one, Bartley stands alone on stage, resplendent in her bright-pink velvet jumpsuit, and belts out her quirky tunes for the steadily growing Margaret Court crowd. Her look and sound come across as kind of a joining of maybe Lady Gaga and Courtney Barnett, with soaring, almost operatic vocals accompanied by grungy guitar. Her voice fills the huge concrete arena, while the guitar is strictly an accompaniment. It’s a heady and evocative mix.

Thirty minutes later and Bryan Ferry strides onto the stage with the swagger and confidence that only decades upon decades of live performance can give and swoons and croons his way through a seemingly effortless one-hour and 40-minute set. It’s a show that is divided pretty evenly between his massive worldwide hits, from both his solo career and Roxy Music, and some slightly more obscure material. Consequently, the crowd is a little subdued through a large chunk of the middle section as they wait with bated breath for the likes of More Than This, Slave To Love, the spellbinding Avalon, Love Is The Drug and raunchy closer Let’s Stick Together. But he gets there, and the crowd comes alive when he does.

His band are superb, especially Jorja Chalmers, who almost steals the show with her sleek sax lines and regular forays to the front of the stage for fabulous solos. She does justice to the superb sax work on the original studio versions of these classic songs, and then some.

Ferry is a consummate professional, and as close to the top of his game as you can be at 73, and the musicians he has put behind himself are elite. Their show is a ridiculously enjoyable trip down memory lane that puts a smile on the dial of every last member of the packed-out MCA crowd.