“From Romford” … “to Sydney”.
The crowd whooped as the words illuminated the stage of the Sydney Opera House’s concert hall behind party pioneers Underworld.
Videos by VICE
British duo Karl Hyde and Rick Smith have been producing rousing techno ballads and all-consuming, charging dance tracks for three decades. Climbing from Wales, to east London, to the silver screen with “Born Slippy (Nuxx)” (one of the 90s’ most iconic songs that scores the climax to Trainspotting), to music directing the 2012 London Olympic Games’ opening ceremony, and now to headline Vivid, a state-government funded arts festival, in the most famous building in the world.
1990s Essex was a very different place to sparkling Circular Quay today. Does a 67-year-old man half-ranting, half-preaching “lager lager lager” to a parish of people who forked out $139 for a club night make any sense at all?
The space: 5 stars
It’s true, the Opera House is sick. The curved ceiling is so high you can’t even see it through the haze of the smoke machines. The seats are cushy – not that anyone used them for the entire three-hour performance. Walls of seats are pretty fucking annoying at the club, but I really, really appreciated the barrier for stumbly bros to walk backwards. Everyone had space to wiggle, including Hyde who pranced and pumped around the stage behind Smith’s massive electronic setup, front and centre. The $139 ticket gives you room and view to take it all in.
“Connect connect connect connect”
Can you really connect on a dancefloor when you’re not glistening with someone else’s sweat?
The seccies: 4 stars
Being the Opera house, there’s a security screening for weapons when you enter. But it’s chill, the seccies in suits don’t pat anyone down or rifle through bags. And if you felt uncomfortable, could you count on them to remove someone? Probably.
The bar: 2 stars
Efficient, expensive. I can’t imagine Underworld’s London audiences sipping canned blackberry-infused gin and tonics. But hey, there are shitloads of free cups and taps on the bar. I drank so much fucking water.
The toilets: 2 stars
Sobering.
No tags, no piss, no trash, no signs of life or fun. Really bright. But lots of good ledges in the cubicles.
The crowd: 3 stars
The band is fucking old so it was a mixed bag of grey-haired men in collared shirts, sexy young rave kids, and jeans. So many people in jeans. But it buzzed. Once the lights dimmed at 8pm sharp, everyone was immediately on their feet. Hands were in the air and hands were in pockets, but it was a party from the first bass thump to the last drifting note.
Following intermission, I accidentally reentered in the row ahead of my allocated seat. A late-30s-ish cop-type with a printed-out ticket informed us we were in his… seat space, despite the vacant metres on either side.
“Oh shit, we’re in the wrong row – wait do you care if we stay?”
“Yeah we need these seats.”
“Not really the party spirit!” I yelled while crawling over his backrest.
He reached back and rubbed my elbow in unsolicited reassurance.
But the bass dropped and jiggled my leg muscles and I stopped caring.
I later saw him snort something off his friend’s pinky. He left before ‘Born Slippy’.
The sound: 5 stars
My boss is convinced the acoustics in the Opera House are shit. He is wrong, but he has also not been there since they redid the whole thing.
The music: 5 stars
Underworld’s oeuvre is vast, varied and influential. There were moments of throbbing techno, DnB, hyperpop, shoegaze, choral harmonising and even an edit of Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love”. Throughout the mammoth three-hour odyssey, over euphoric peaks and through lachrymose valleys, we heard the years, the eras of music evolve. But what remained unwaveringly steady was the commitment to the dancefloor. Whether you were cognisant in 1996 or not, Underworld’s performance dredged up memories for everyone and made us feel less alone.
“I’m talkin’ reachin’ out to your telephone, are you listenin’? Can you hear? Do you hear? Show me how it feels when we’re, we’re no longer alone.”
By 11pm when it was time for the “Born Slippy” closer, everyone was so high – full of life yet equally depleted from throwing down nonstop – people clutched their friends, lovers, their own hearts and heads. Hands soared, heads tipped back, tears rolled down cheeks.
Among the surge of emotion, Hyde said “I know you wanna dance with me. I know you wanna dance with me. Let’s dance.”
And he did. So we did.
The feeling: 5 stars
“You bring light in, you bring light in, you bring light in, you bring light in”
Entering the concert hall, I had a lot of thoughts about the people, the place, whether it all fit, whether it was cringe, outdated, forced, fake, relevant. I looked around, I contemplated, I analysed. Did any of this gel, mesh, make sense? As soon as the first kick drum pelted through the hall, it did. After a few songs, I stopped thinking and just had fucking fun.
Aleksandra Bliszczyk is the Deputy Editor of VICE Australia. Follow her on Instagram.
