There’s a break in the drizzle by the time King Stingray emerges onto St Kilda’s Palace Foreshore stage.
The amplified drone of a yidaki (didgeridoo) thunders over a weather-diminished but devoted crowd. Warm enough for T-shirts, wet enough for ponchos.
King Stingray feels like a brief reprieve from another kind of storm, bathing us in a ray of mental sunshine, psychedelic animations and energetic, uplifting surf rock. My shoes are full of rain, my newsfeed full of Iran. Feeling good about the present or future seems pretty difficult today.
The two support acts exuded nostalgia for a sunnier time. Femme four-piece rockers, The Buoys channelled 90s garage bands with guitar squeals, drum solos and the kind of crisp “angry girl music” vocals that would’ve landed them in the ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ soundtrack. Jack River (aka. Holly Rankin) and her band led poncho-clad concert-goers in rain-stomping indie Americana-inflected grooves. It felt like being a kid back at Bluesfest. I wouldn’t say I didn’t have a care in the world then, but the cares were less nuclear in nature.
The last time I saw King Stingray was in the bandroom of Hotel Westwood (RIP) in 2021, as relative newcomers. Since then, founding member Yirrŋa Yunupiŋu has departed and Ngalakan Wanambi stepped up as vocalist and multi-instrumentalist in March 2025. It’s a testament to the collaborative resilience of the King Stingray entity that despite change, the current lineup still feels pretty damn flawless.
Check out our gig guide, our festival guide, our live music venue guide and our nightclub guide. Follow us on Instagram here.
View this post on Instagram
Their 2020 lead single, ‘Hey Wanhaka’, is fitting to kick things off, encapsulating their bilingual storytelling and steady foundation in Oz Rock. It encourages a confident swagger, particularly by Dimathaya Burarrwanga, strutting to the front and leading the songs in Blundstones, jeans, wide-brimmed hat and a shirt emblazoned with the Aboriginal flag. Even far from the top end, there’s an air of the band having just wandered over from the beach, dressed for a happier place. In this grim moment, we’re clinging to their visions of Yolŋu surf rock.
As they launch in, I remember how evocative of place King Stingray is, grounded in the physicality and language of Country. We’re whisked away to Arnhem Land on the waves of ‘Soon As’, basking in the relief of being back on that earth.
We drive home along the Central Arnhem Highway in ‘Let’s Go’ (“When we get there I’ll show you the southern stars”). We cycle through Yirrkala to the thumping bouncy beat of ‘Camp Dog’, on the lookout for the ‘king of the streets’ community boss dog. Yolŋu Matha is interwoven with English, and live shows bestow us the gift of extended yidaki interludes.
We can experience the drones, hums, cries and barks of its range, like another vocalist, another tongue.
Burarrwanga is a natural narrator, with a crowd-leading presence, pumping his fists and dancing across the stage. He and Wanambi alternate yidaki and bilma (clapping sticks) and Yolŋu Matha vocal leads.
We’re even treated to a yidaki duet, melodies curling around each other in flourishes. Occasionally, they break into elements of traditional dance: both hop and rub their hands like roos in ‘Southerly’, caught in the smoke and lights, poised and statuesque.
King Stingray is an ensemble composed of individual star power. They share this on stage, playing to each other, moving, clustering and breaking away – seriously talented as individuals, but collaborative and communal.
At the drums, Lewis Stiles emotes big, joyfully, driving the heartbeat: the opening tumble of ‘Let’s Go’ hits like a slap, ‘Raypirri’ gets a galloping start into high-energy rhythmic Yolŋu Matha patter, giving rock ‘n’ roll thrust to Roy Kellaway’s sweeping guitar solo. Campbell Messer looks to be casually chewing gum as he cooly slides into the infectious disco funk of ‘Milkumana’.
They’re just so fucking strong. Only this unity could forge an absolute Oz Rock anthem like ‘Through The Trees’.
We let the sunshine-bright beams of ‘Light Up The Path’ wash over us:
“Don’t wait for the dream to start
We’re talking too much
Let’s go, there’s got to be another way.”
King Stingray’s setlist is overwhelmingly drenched in hope; their earnestness is powerful because it’s optimism that doesn’t come from ignoring reality, but staring it down and doing good regardless. Burarrwanga speaks about white men introducing the idea of ‘stranger’ to his language, plays to honour the Elders, draws attention to the land we stand on and the many continuous tongues these places hold.
Aside from familial links to Warumpi Band and Yothu Yindi, King Stingray also carries their musical legacy of challenging colonial structures, and Yirrkala, where Kellaway and Burarrwanga hail from, has a proud place in the history of resistance, with the 1963 Yirrkala Bark Petition and Australia’s first land rights legislation. King Stingray is absolutely amongst it all.
So when Burarrwanga says the best bits are “happening right now”, we know the band genuinely believes that. Through everything, there are still sunrises, reasons to put others before yourself and act well as people among people. A bone-vibrating yidaki melody leads into ‘Lookin’ Out’, painting a picture of exactly where we want to be, looking into the fire or water but giving comfort together.
“Tell me all the things that are on your mind
And I will say everything will be alright.”
It’s not exactly the King Stingray I saw years ago, but it’s the King Stingray I remember.
Beyond awards and world tours, this young band has already shown staying power. We cheer when they hint at an upcoming release (please!), but there’s a sense that the songs they’re performing here will be classics decades from now. This is our Midnight Oil, our ACDC, the albums I’ll play on Grey Nomad drives and the live stadium anthems I’ll sway to when I’m 60.
And when I listen to King Stingray, I actually believe, for an evening at least, that I might see that future.
“We don’t know what’s coming ahead, but if we work together we can figure it out.”
For more information, head here.
