There’s very little not to like about Canadian producer Ryan Hemsworth, and there was very little not to like about his second Melbourne dalliance. It might be possible to dismiss his affinity for the mainstream and the nostalgic (and the space between the two) as the makings of millennial folly – a blind fetishisation of the familiar – but it’s abundantly clear the track and tonal selections come from a place of deep sincerity. His style lends to the nascent rise of the Sad Boys movement, Hemsworth’s craft is steeped in a broader, invigorated sentimentality.
Tonight’s track selections were a vivid cross-section of the psyche of internet-fuelled genuine pop appreciation, a facilitator of fun, a vessel for escapism. It would be unwise to dismiss the night’s soundtrack as mindless, when it’s quite the opposite. Miley, Britney, Grimes, Flume – these songs belonged to us, our generation. It’s nostalgia at its most immediate. Take Me There, a song recorded by Mya for 1998’s Rugrats Movie OST, was the most vintage takeaway from the set – as explicit of an example of meta-nostalgia as you’ll find.
I enjoyed the set as a whole, those tracks and artists mentioned didn’t necessarily hit me in a profound way (I barely recognised the Rugrats cut until a friend gushed over it after the fact). My moment of emotional impact came when, spliced amongst Hemsworth’s complementary original cuts, Outkast’s Ghetto Musick blasted through the PA, triggering memories of highschool puppy love, that summer spent beachside listening to Speakerboxxx/The Love Below. Magic.
BY LACHLAN KANONIUK
LOVED: G-h-e-t-t-o-m-u-s-i-c-k stay down.
HATED: Breaking my Soundhound-equipped phone in the week leading up to the set.
DRANK: Housemate-funded pints.
