There’s a disjointed rumble as the lights go out. They flash, red, the smoke sprays from beyond vision and the mix teases a rushing crowd as they herd toward the back end of Miami Marketta. As the lights bullet-blast the front rows, the bass hits with combined force from drum and guitar entering with 'Drive You Mad' licking from respective corners. At last, the one we’ve all been waiting for, erupts in a chaotic run of ecstasy, bouncing on stage rocking an iconic blue Adidas tracksuit top. Home at last, Amy Shark enters stage.
Gaining velocity, Shark’s strong yet unique vocals dance across the intimate space like the lights sprinkle overhead. The audience can’t get any closer as they pool into the surrounding shops just to catch a glimpse of their fellow Gold Coast heart-throb.
Shark’s range between songs is a strong point as alterations define her act between both vocals and six strings. Not only is her melodic tune entrapping, too are her stories between tracks. We learned to cherish every second before Shark gifted us Home and humorously applauded her anecdotes prior to an Allday-less version of 'Worst Girl'. The jacket’s come off by this stage, and the lights are a sporadic wash of blue, red and purple as Shark shakes her body atop the speakers in a joyous boogey that induces non-negotiable smiles.
Right after she blasts Allday - “He’s dead to me for not being here,” she mocks - out from the archives she spits a like-a-version-esque rendition of Eminem’s Superman. Phones paint the air, lighting up the Marketta, to capture the moment, but it’s not the end yet. Faces turn to each other during a rant of calling home phones. The details are in the fabric, however, and the turned faces become vagrant cries as 'Weekends' opens. There’s another tumultuous wave of people, streamlined shops are full to the max as a forced two-step dance of a shuffle infects Miami.
Shark’s most engaging asset at Miami Marketta on 24th August was not her love for music, but her love for the Gold Coast. Wrapping every rhyme, lick and lyric to talk back to her home and it’s people warmed the hearts of the crowd as, before long, Triple J’s Hottest 100 Number 2 vote closed the night. Adore was met by a chorus of screams from men and women alike. With lack of a better term, the brooding set awoke with renewed energy. As the audience sung at the top of their lungs and the cameras flashed, Shark screams “Hey, Gold Coast, I adore you!” Dropping the mic in mix of a blinding display of spectacular lighting, Amy has settled her dues with her city.
No, Amy, we adore you.
Review - Jake Sandtner
Photography - Lewi Gray