In a wash of deep crimson light and soft sultry smoke, Forum Melbourne transformed into a cathedral of ethereal magic on Tuesday, as BANKS returned to her adoring Melbourne fans.
With her powerful presence, everyone in the crowd joined one another in a collective emotional exhale as BANKS delivered an intoxicating blend of dark pop, raw vulnerability and intoxicating vocals.
With the magnetic Darcie Haven opening the night (18 November), the show descended into an emotional underworld that was utterly consuming.
As the crowd filtered into the Forum's historic, starry sky hall on this warm November evening, anticipation wrapped itself around the venue's ancient arches.
A low hum of excitement vibrated through the space as Haven opened the portal to the shadow side of the heart. A rising star from Western Australia, now based in Melbourne, the indie-pop storyteller spoke to the crowd about how tonight's show was a dream come true.
Bathed in powder-blue light, she sang crowd favourites like 'Girlfriend Back Home' and 'House'. Her honest and disarmingly gentle voice felt like wandering through a diary left open on the floor. The perfect tonal prelude to BANKS' darker, more visceral world.
After a slightly longer wait than promised, (I guess the ultimate way to build anticipation) the lights dropped. Smouldering dancers entered the stage wearing masks, adding further to the mystery as a single spotlight sliced through the room as the theatre inhaled collectively.
BANKS finally emerged through swirling plumes of smoke, dressed in a flowing black dress; she carried herself like a storm-front, all power waiting to break. From the first bass pulse, her presence shifted the air. We were in her world now.
Opening with 'Guillotine', it was a serrated breath of bass and shadow that sliced straight through the room. The moment that first warped synth hit, the crowd snapped awake.
BANKS stood in stark silhouette, every movement slow and deliberate before slipping next into 'Love Is Unkind', the shift landing like a soft bruise blooming under the skin. The first two songs set the blueprint for the night: a collision of strength and softness, of shadows and exposed nerves.
The show unfolded like a ritual. A carefully engineered emotional journey through the full spectrum of BANKS' universe: tender whispers, distorted beats, spine-tingling crescendos and the kind of lyrical honesty that makes your chest ache.
Tearing into 'F... With Myself', it was a feral, contorted release of self-confrontation that rippled through the room like a pulse of electric grit. The dancers' movements were sharp, almost ritualistic, as they moved around the star.
Without letting the energy settle, she dropped into 'Gemini Feed', its glittering venom and perfectly controlled rage igniting a collective echo. Then came 'Stay', stripping the noise back to something intimate and trembling, her voice softening into vulnerability.
Gaining momentum and movement, BANKS shifted into a kinetic run of songs that pulsed with restless energy. 'Meddle In The Mold' was sharp, twitchy and delightfully unhinged. Its jagged beats sent ripples of motion across the crowd as she leaned into its chaotic chomp.
She carried that momentum into 'Direction', her vocals slicing through the haze like a compass arrow drawn to its true north. With each new song, the dance ensemble moved with even more precision and grace, each hair flip a whip across the crowd to keep us locked into the seductive show.
'Move' followed, slinking in with a hypnotic physicality, its rhythm coaxing the room into a collective sway that felt primal. Slowing down and softening the edges, we heard 'Someone New', a breath of vulnerability that opened up the emotional floor beneath us, her voice tender and trembling in all the right places.
Moving to the piano, it was time for the cross section between chaos and stillness. The lights dimmed, the energy softened and we were pulled into the raw core of her artistry.
She began 'Drowning' with an acoustic first verse, her voice trembling over the keys in a way that felt painfully intimate, like she was letting us read a page torn straight from her diary.
The echoes of her adoring fans filled the room as she pivoted into 'Delulu', the track's sly, tongue-in-cheek bite landing even harder in contrast to the tenderness she'd just revealed; the crowd laughed, cheered, and leaned into its playful delusion with her.
Then came 'Contaminated' a haunting slow burn delivered with quiet devastation as each lyric hung heavy in the air.
As the set coursed into its final stretch, BANKS unleashed 'River', the song surging through the venue with a dark, velvety power. The crowd fell into its tide instantly, bodies rolling with the rhythm as she carried the song's seductive intensity with effortless control.
She followed with 'Make It Up', flipping the energy into something sharper and more playful. BANKS' connection with her dancers created a striking ebb and flow. Their movements were crisp, mechanical, ghostlike, amplifying the emotional weight of her words.
As the lighting hit the Forum's ornate ceiling in waves of colour, turning the space into a living, breathing mood-board of shadowy femininity, we had hit the final stretch of sultry songs.
For the finale, BANKS delivered an ethereal emotional reckoning. 'Waiting Game''s low-burning tension curled through the theatre like smoke, as crimson strobes lit up the stage. Her voice was low and luminous as choreography snapped like broken glass.
The tension shattered the moment she launched into 'Beggin For Thread', a ferocious release of rhythm as the crowd erupted, shouting every word back at her as the lights strobed in adrenaline-soaked flashes.
Then, with a wicked grin and a final surge of power, she closed with 'I Hate Your Ex-Girlfriend', which crackled with attitude, the perfect kiss-off to end the night. The audience erupted into thunderous applause, completely enthralled by BANKS and her incredible powerhouse performance.
Only a year after her last visit to Melbourne, it was clear she has some long-standing dedicated fans in this city. A venue filled with people weren't here to document; they were here to feel.
The collective energy was thick, electric and strangely intimate for a full-house show. A reminder of how powerful live music can be when an artist leans fully into their most vulnerable, feral and feminine edges.
