There is a rare, electric kind of magic that occurs when a performer’s personal ambition plays out live on an iconic stage.
At the Sydney Opera House, Lucy Dacus didn’t just give a concert; she fulfilled a childhood prophecy. Seeing an artist at the height of their powers is one thing, but witnessing them cross off a primary bucket list item in real-time transforms a standard gig into a communal milestone.
Stella Bridie opened the evening with a forceful 30-minute set, relying solely on her guitar and a notably dry wit to captivate the audience.
Her performance featured a mix of intense and heartbreaking original tracks, including the poignant Organ Donor and the frustrated energy of Sore Spot. Bridie also surprised the crowd with a reimagined version of the recently resurging T.A.T.U. track All The Things She Said, which she assured the crowd she was a fan of when it was originally released in 2002.
Beyond her opening slot, Bridie made a memorable reappearance during the main show to share the stage for a collaborative rendition of the song Bullseye.
Dacus didn’t keep the crowd waiting for long, perhaps a testament to her eagerness to take such an iconic stage.
For Dacus, the Opera House wasn’t just another stop on a world tour; it was the first venue she ever knew existed, a landmark etched into her mind as a child.
“This was the first venue I ever knew about…was it in Finding Nemo?” Dacus asked.
This sense of full-circle realisation was palpable from the moment she took the stage. While she joked morbidly that achieving such a goal meant “the end was near,” the sheer joy on her face from the opening notes of Hot & Heavy suggested a beginning rather than a finale.
It is a profound thing to watch someone stand in a room symbolic of success – and realise they have finally arrived at the place they once only viewed through a screen.
The audience seemed to understand the weight of the occasion, forming what Dacus called the “smiliest crowd” she had ever seen.
It became clear that the adoration of fans was not taken for granted by Dacus. From little waves to faces in the crowd, a joyful dash to greet fans in the back, and bows or high fives for the fans down the front. The love was reciprocated between stage and crowd – a mutual respect between a dreamer and those who helped her get there.
When the standing ovation became so prolonged that Dacus had to ask the crowd to stop, it became clear that this was more than a performance – it was a celebration of her ascent from the Richmond indie scene to one of the world’s most prestigious stages.
Even the bittersweet moments served to highlight the magnitude of the dream. Her apology that her “other band,” boygenius, had never made it to Australia added a layer of reflective gratitude to her solo encore of True Blue.
During the last song, Dacus asked the crowd to do something that doesn’t usually happen in a place like the Sydney Opera House – be loud and messy.
“Break a few rules in your mind,” Dacus said, “If you want.”
By the time the six-minute crescendos of Night Shift echoed through the room, the Concert Hall had ascended into a dance floor, with every audience member out of their seat. What began as Dacus’s grateful acceptance of a new milestone became the confident claiming of a space she now owned.
The joy on Dacus’s face as she merrily skipped off stage served as an important reminder in a world of complexities and overwhelm. There is nothing as pure and restorative as watching a person meet their youngest self’s highest expectations.
