Kamasi Washington brought his Fearless Movement Australian tour to Carriageworks as part of VIVD Sydney, and it was a sound of vivid magnitude.
This venue feels like it belongs on the docks – a relic of concrete and steel; the kind of place that only moves for music or miracles. Luckily, this was both.A windy Sunday night (8 June) had everyone funnelled through the industrial corridors of Bay 17 toward the source: Kamasi Washington.
However, first, credit where it's due: lighting techs, sound engineers, and crew. You spun the invisible thread that made this seamless. Respect.
Opening act Micah Heathwood and his trio cast out waves of energy – a heady blend of jazz and electronic. Their sound felt improvised yet deliberate, fresh but rooted. My head was nodding from note one. I'd like to hear more. An EP, maybe?
Even the DJ between sets had folks Shazaming. I was one of them. Whoever curated that mix, your ear deserves a credit line, but let's talk Kamasi.
Image © Sinan Beytas
Some artists must be heard to be understood. Kamasi Washington is one of them. The band emerged like a constellation – each musician a light in orbit, brilliant soloists and an even more astounding collective. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"What's up, Sydney?!" Kamasi grinned. "It's been a lil while. You look good. All I ask is you have a good time; and if it's up to me, you'll have a funky good time." We did.
The set was a vortex. The kind of performance that dissolves time and space. Leaning against a stone pillar, I heard Kamasi speak again. "Some of my best friends died a hundred years ago," he said, referencing the timelessness of music. Then he raised the sax and summoned their spirit. It was like catching breath from the other side.
Later, seated at the piano, Kamasi shared a story about his young daughter – an early riser who plays melodies at dawn. He played a few imitations, joked about her avant-garde flourishes, and smiled like any dad would. The room softened. It felt like a jazz kitchen table moment.
Image © Sinan Beytas
Then came 'Lazarus'. Kamasi asked the crowd to reenact a scene from the anime – I confess I hadn't seen it (yet), but when Patrice Quinn delivered some added vocals, something rare happened. Stillness. Reverence. The room paused in collective hush.
That moment is now a bookmark in memory. A lyric that stayed, don't ask why my friend. Every band member was given a solo spotlight – an elegant homage to jazz's living, breathing pulse.
Rickey Washington, Kamasi's father, soared on flute and soprano sax. We share a name, not the talent. Still, I nodded with pride. Thank you, Rickey, for giving us Kamasi.
Shoutout to all of you onstage that night: Tony Austin (drums), Miles Mosley (bass), Brandon Coleman (keys), Ryan Porter (trombone), DJ Battlecat (decks and texture), Patrice Quinn (vocals), and Rickey Washington – each one part of the alchemy.
Image © Sinan Beytas
Kamasi Washington in Sydney, 2025, was not just a show. It was a rite. A sonic sermon. A fearless movement. If you were there, you're likely still vibing with it.
More photos from the concert.
