Earlier this month, Nathan Cavaleri brought his New Blues With A Story tour to Ipswich's Banshees Art Space – the final show of the tour as well.
In front of a sold-out crowd, my spidey senses tell me I'm in for a night that swings between gut-level truth and pure groove (2 November).
Banshees is already humming when I walk in. Ipswich local Clare Crowley's just finished and punters are still buzzing, trading compliments about her set.
The crowd's a solid mix of boomer and Gen Xers, and even younger ones sharing space with those of us who grew up with Cavaleri. Some punters lean into the shadows at the back not straying too far from the bar, but whether they're back there or seated in the front section they all seemed tuned in and ready for the headliner.
You can feel a restless current from a few boogie-inclined fans squirming in anticipation of Cavaleri kicking things off. Nathan strolls in, hops up on the low stage. He's calm and grounded, plugs in, and lets the intro flow from his fingers.
Image © Clea-marie Thorne
He lets 'Querencia' breathe and unfold. Slow, moody, full of space. Then 'Crush' glides out, sticky and smooth, like honey poured over gravel. I'm falling for this live version over the recording. Head over heels tbh!
Between songs he starts talking, really talking. He tells a story about his school years as well as his young son's crush on a girl in the park. A boy. A girl, A ball. Kicking their interest around, all shy and curious. The crowd melts a little.
Next comes 'Not With You', which slides in, all bittersweet edges and quiet ache. His tone's glassy, delicate, every bend carrying weight. He rewinds to his very early years. We visualise the kid among grown men, already outplaying half the pub circuit before he hit 15 and the weirdness of it all.
Cavaleri mentions some of the icons he's shared the stage with, and when Jimmy Barnes' name drops, it's a natural cue into a raw, slow-burning cover of 'Rising Sun'. No nostalgia, no polish – just grit and heart. You can hear a pin drop, that is until some of the fans start singing along.
Image © Clea-marie Thorne
Then 'Demons' hits, and that opening line – "I had demons sleeping in my bed, they woke up and filled my head," – gives goosebumps. The song's haunted yet beautiful, Cavaleri playing sharp enough to make you wince, making you really feel the ghost of that 'Demons' era, the sound of someone crawling back through their own wreckage.
He speaks about reflecting and resetting and moves into 'Tilba', its coastal warmth washing over the room before he cracks into another story – this one about having a one-sided snog with Jessica Alba back in school. Her side. Him frozen like a wet fish. He's grinning shaking his head. The crowd roars.
He rolls straight into a yarn about a strip show being booked before his teenage band went on, the chaos of it, and his mum swooping in mid-flirt. Perfect set up for 'Mammas Comin'', which he plays with that cheeky smirk. It's a half-grin of someone who knows how to laugh at their own history.
From there it loosens right up. We get 'Blues Jam' with a definite twist of Muddy Waters from my reckoning and slides into 'Comfort Blues', and suddenly the room's got swagger. It's got that frisky, funked-up swing Cavaleri's been chasing on 'Miracles'.
Swampy guitars, brass punch, a flash of '70s glam through the mud. Heads start nodding, punters leaning into it without even realising. Then 'Boho Limousine' rolls through slick and smooth, all midnight-road energy, tone thick enough to swim in. This is a classic banger.
Image © Clea-marie Thorne
'Miracles' itself builds slow. It's all hopeful and quietly radiant before he drops the hammer with 'Man On Fire'. Fuzzed-out and stomping, it shakes the room. People are up, clapping, moving; one bloke half commits to a stage dive into his mates while someone else's up on shoulders, horns in the air as Cavaleri tears through a solo that's pure lightning.
He closes with a treat. Another recent original 'Chucky', still rough around the edges but oozing charm. It's cheeky, raw, full of pulse. I reckon it's a glimpse at whatever he is cooking up next. The applause rattles the floorboards. Cavaleri just grins, wipes his brow, and stands there soaking it in.
Across the night, you could feel the whole journey: the shadows of 'Demons' giving way to the light and swagger of 'Miracles', the new stories grounding it all. He's not chasing past glories or proving a damn thing. He's just living it, laughing, riffing, telling his truth in real time.
A bloke who's weathered fame, illness, burnout, and self-doubt – still standing, still playing and remembering why it matters. If New Blues With A Story says anything, it's that Cavaleri's nowhere near done. He's just stoking the fire he lit before he had facial hair.
He leaves no doubt, as he closes tonight's chapter, that he's steering and fanning the flames of his musical campfire that holds more stories to spill when Cavaleri decides to ignite our world with more of his music.
