The State Theatre lies in the very heart of the Sydney metropolis and has luxuriant old-world furnishings; a stark contrast to the towering concrete-and-glass buildings of the city that lives outside it. It was also the very appropriate venue for David Gray’s debut Sydney performances where he sold out three shows, indicative of the massive popularity he has garnered over the last two years on the back of WHITE LADDER (as well as his latest album A NEW DAY AT MIDNIGHT). The support act for his shows was Tim Freedman, frontman of Sydney-based band The Whitlams. Songs that were played included the haunting There’s No Aphrodisiac Like Loneliness, and tracks from the new Whitlams album TORCH THE MOON. Freedman put in a fine performance, looking very at home with an electric piano in the middle of the stage. This was actually the first time I had seen him perform though the band regularly tour, and that night it was made very obvious to me as to why they have become one of Australia’s best-loved and respected bands. It was also clear why Freedman was invited to collaborate with the Australian Chamber Orchestra earlier this year, so immense is his talent.

After Freedman had set the tone for the evening, the lights dimmed and with the theatre bathed in darkness, a pounding funky electro-beat pulsed. Not exactly the opening that I would have expected for the relatively down-tempo David Gray. After a minute of letting the anticipation build, the full band came onstage. Gray was dressed casually in a long-sleeved black shirt, well-worn jeans and light brown sneakers, a picture of perfect ease.The first track of his set was Dead In The Water (which is also the first single from his latest album). I remember thinking that the accompanying lights, which would be fully utilised throughout the whole set, were blindingly bright - another unexpected element of the show.

The performance was so full-blown and lively that it was at this point that I realised that my notion of what David Gray was all about was hopelessly dated. I had this image of a brooding solo performer. A man who, as Glen Hansard from The Frames described it to me last year, said, “Fuck it. I’m doing this in my bedroom” after he was continuously shafted by record companies. But not only is Gray out of the bedroom, he was ten thousand miles from home playing to an Australian audience, an incredulity that he expressed during the night.

Most of the tracks he played that night were from his last two albums, which as far as most people think, is when he started to exist: White Ladder, Otherside, My Oh My and Real Love. Everytime was the first song he played from SELL, SELL, SELL (or as drummer McClune said, it was now “Sold, Sold, Sold“). Then came Long Distance Call, which he said was, “One of my favourites from the new record“, before playing two of the highlights of the night: We’re Not Right and Be Mine, the centrepiece of A NEW DAY AT MIDNIGHT. These led on to Last Boat To America, Kangaroo followd by Late Night Radio and Faster, Sooner, Now (both from SELL, SELL, SELL), and Nightblindness.

The track that finally got everyone on their feet for the rest of the night was Babylon. That was the first Gray song that I heard through mp3.com at the beginning of 2001 - was a full-circle moment to finally see it performed to such a receptive crowd. People were dancing in the aisles, and the cheering he received was the sort that is usually reserved for rock stars, not mild-mannered folk-rock types. But David Gray is no middle-of-the-road performer. Confidence oozes of every pore of his body, and music radiates from his fingertips. His characteristic head-shake and constant foot-tapping that night was accompanied by a full-bodied voice that seethed passion. And the whole band looked like they were having a bloody good time too.

The ensuing encore was deliciously long. This Year’s Love (my personal favourite from WHITE LADDER) and Shine (from A CENTURY ENDS) were both played solo, before his band joined him in a memorable rendition of Flame Turns Blue from his album LOST SONGS. The stirring Freedom followed, and then Sail Away which he thought was “something really sad” (though you wouldn’t think it from all the non-funereal cheers). His last song turned out to be Please Forgive Me, which was given some electronic treatment and spirited drumming from the fluoro-drum-sticks wielding and Hawaiian-shirted McClune. It ended the night on a high; like it had been a rave that we had all been to rather than an elegant and lively performance at a stately theatre.

All in all, it was a superb performance, which surpassed all expectations. I’m sure even his staunchest critics would not have failed to be moved by it. I’m beginning to think that Q magazine were right when they called Gray, ‘the most comforting songwriter of our generation.’ There is indeed something very comforting about this naturalised Welsh singer-songwriter. His lyrical and musical sincerity is profoundly moving in the face of the overwhelming superficiality that can be found in today’s modern music.

Sheila Pham