The rainy weather and bustling valley didn't seem about to stop Brisbanites from heading out to see James Vincent McMorrow play a sold out show at the Triffid; an event that was sure to be as intimate as it was enthralling. 

Sticking with his self-professed love of Brisbane bands, Moreton, a three piece indie rock unit fronted by Georgia Potter, opened the night with an appropriately melancholic bang. Playing to 'the biggest crowd [they'd] ever played to', the punters who had arrived early purely for a front row spot were quickly engrossed by the sonourous rock grooves and heart wrenching lyrical prowess. Playing tracks mostly from their most recent EP Specimen, the flippant way such depressing songs were performed wrenched a knife in my heart, making the pain dripping from the vocals feel as normal as reading a page from a journal. It's brave for a band to sing about such stigmatized topics openly, such as in The Water, and Johana, the highlight songs in their set. The previously restless crowd was silenced by the solemnity of the music, except for the raucous applause at the end of their set. 

By the time James Vincent McMorrow was about to start, the venue had become insanely packed; it was filled with wanky dudes and hipster girls, both sorts wearing innapropriate felt hats for an inside Friday night gig. From a poorly chosen spot near the back of the venue, I could see 500 illuminated miniscule figures of him entering the stage, in a sea of Snapchat and Instagram stories.

Decked out in a wool suit and panama hat (insanity in this heat, but at least enlightened me on the absurd amount of similar hats in the audience), he opened with a solo rendition of Red Dust, before his 4 piece band joined the stage. The single spotlight and fleshed-out arrangements added to the atmosphere, soothing what was a restless audience through the interval. The majority of his set was made up of crowd favourites, like Higher Love, We Don't Eat and Surreal which excited the audience as expected. James Vincent Mcmorrow has intoxiciating talent, I'll give him that, even though his performance seemed manufactured and almost over rehearsed. The punters were waiting on his every note, eating up every word like a famished dog on the side of the road, going wild at every little tidbit offered. 

His beautiful songwriting paired with his soothing and emotive voice makes for an excellent song, but it all becomes a bit bland when you get to listen to so many similar tracks back to back. Perhaps that was just my high expectations, which were very quickly deflated. Moreton, on the other hand, with their devastating beauty, are a band to watch. Moral of the story: always get down early for the support - and not just for the good spot.

 Olivia Shoesmith