Mahala
•
14th August 2014
Rolling Stoned
She dresses in her guitar, and launches into it, and she is mesmerizing. Two songs in and she swaps places with her bandmate on the keys David Hunt, swapping him a synth for a turn at the black grand piano taking up most of the stage. Their music is fierce intensity and no one is immune. Between songs, she cracks self-deprecating jokes, apologises for being Australian, at one point, shrugs off her kimono in an overly dramatic gesture; all moments intended to bring some light-hearted fun into the otherwise heart-wrenching odes to bad break-ups, a forgetful God and the inevitability of human nature. Some of the audience sit transfixed, others sprawl back in their seats, eyes-closed, the couple next to me clutch each other tightly as if facing their imminent demise. Time turns to mud.