Back in October of 2000, Darren Middleton played Sydney's Enmore Theatre for the very first time, as part of the chart-topping Aus-rock juggernaut that was Powderfinger.
Though nearly a quarter of a century removed from that fateful night, and over a decade after Powderfinger's end, the softly-spoken guitarist is still in awe of the venue."I'm still here," he says with a grin to an attentive audience – in turn, expressing his gratitude at the fact he still remains on stages across the country playing his songs.
His solo material doesn't possess the grit of Powderfinger at the turn of the century, or even the driving nature of his 2000s side project Drag.
Rather, Middleton now positions himself as a folk-rock troubadour: quaint, warm vocals paired with close harmony and striking guitar strumming, with lyrics harkening back to young love and star-crossed romance.
It's given an extra kick with his formidable rhythm section, composed of drummer Michael McCartney and bassist Ian Peres – the latter of whom is also no stranger to the Enmore, having performed here with Wolfmother, Xavier Rudd and The Whitlams.
It's a set of songs that isn't about to set the world on fire by any stretch of the imagination, but by that same token it's not where Middleton's ambitions lie nowadays. As he'll happily remind us, he's just happy to be out of the house. Both his and our happiness is slowly creeping back.
When Scottish pop-rock stalwarts Del Amitri wrapped their previous Australian tour, they no doubt signed off with some sort of cheerful platitude along the lines of "see you next time".
It's mind-boggling to think, then, that said "next time" would take a whopping 33 years. To truly timestamp the moment, the vast majority of Sydney venues they played on that run – including the Parramatta Leagues Club, the Dee Why Hotel and Temptations Nightclub – are now long-gone artefacts.
The band themselves even broke up and subsequently reunited in their long, long journey back to Australia. And yet, when they quietly emerge from the wings and begin the unmistakable acoustic chime of 'When You Were Young', one thing is abundantly clear: Australian fans never forgot them.
They're largely swaying in their seats these days, as opposed to having a dance up the front, but they're still here in droves – a true testament to the staying power of both the band itself and their catalogue.
"Here's how it's gonna go," quips frontman Justin Currie after a few songs. "We've done the opening bit, then it'll be the quiet bit, and then it's hit after hit after hit." It's all done with a bit of a wink and a nod, but to Currie's credit he knows how to set expectations – and besides, he and the rest of the band can back it up.
'Always The Last To Know' has lost none of its teen-movie sheen, just like 'Roll To Me' has lost none of its rom-com whimsy. The sing-alongs are as hearty as ever too, as documented by 'Kiss This Thing Goodbye' and main set closer 'Stone Cold Sober'.
With the current line-up of the band having remained steady since their 2013 reunion, every song is basically woven into the DNA of the five men onstage.
In particular, this applies to the band's most recent album 'Fatal Mistakes', which was released in 2021 and takes up a considerable slice of the proverbial pie this evening. Normally, a legacy act relying on new material can be met with groans and detours to the bar.
Such is the band's conviction about this material, however, that it largely manages to tessellate and blend with the canon of singles performed across the evening.
Highlights include the driving 'You Can't Go Back', the folksy 'Mockingbird, Copy Me Now' and a rousing rendition of 'Missing Person' that sees Currie in full, theatrical frontman flight with some dramatic knee drops and grand-arm gestures.
Hilariously, the five-song encore feels like the last twenty minutes or so of 'The Lord Of The Rings: The Return Of The King'. At multiple points, most of the audience thinks the show is over and gets up for a standing ovation and then heads for the door before realising that's not the actual end.
The working-class waltz of 'Nothing Ever Happens' remains one of the most poignant and powerful songs in the Del Amitri oeuvre, particularly when it's sung with gusto by thousands of people.
Elsewhere, the official grand finale of 'Be My Downfall' is as sweet and wholesome a conclusion as one could hope for – its stripped-back nature effectively allowing the performance to close the same way it opens.
For all those years – all those decades – away, all it took was 90 minutes in the same room to make it all flash by in an instant.
