It was somewhat of a novelty, something of a prestige: one of the world’s biggest popstars (I say biggest, but there’s no viable metric, not anymore – maybe there never was), performing not to stadia filled with thousands, not choreographed to pyrotechnics, sans blown out backing tracks. Just a dude.
The songs hold up. What Do You Mean, the latest single, finds its strength in melody, in simple lyrical sentiment, standing resolute without its EDM-inclined production.
I wouldn’t say he took to the stage – overlooking the cityscape from the south atop the radio station studios – uncomfortably, a weird bareness resulting in stern requests for the crowd, both on the street three stories below, screaming, and the select few radio competition winners, to restrain from singing along. “There’s no production, it’s just me, ok?” Two songs later, on What Do You Mean?, we were instructed to sing along. He warmed up, he smiled, he danced, he graced the front of row with fleeting hand-holding.
He sounded so good. After the slightly cold start, he was impossibly charming leading into the set-closing Baby. He cherished the audience sing-along. He rapped Ludacris’s bars. Good pop music feels great, if you let it. The fans here, some of which lined up since 1am (I once lined up since 1am at Polyester for Meredith tickets. I get it), had found meaning in these songs. There’s something special about that.
BY LACHLAN KANONIUK
Loved: The Beliebers actually sang along in tune. Was like a choir during Baby.
Hated: The first clouds Melbourne’s seen in four days.
Drank: Mocktails. No joke.
