Something is already breaking loose inside Liberty Hall — a room packed with a mainly female crowd whose excitement doesn’t just build, it spills over, screams ricocheting off the walls like they’ve been waiting all week for this gig. It’s full-volume release, the kind that turns a venue into something closer to a pressure cooker.
Lucky steps out with her slick band and delivers a tight set of grunge-infused indie rock, rough around the edges in exactly the right way, songs that feel dragged through distortion and rebuilt on instinct.
Then MAY-A arrives, and whatever restraint was left in the room disappears completely.
Dressed like a neon-slick, future-pop Barbarella, she doesn’t walk on — she detonates into it. The reaction is immediate and deafening, a surge of sound that feels like it could lift the roof clean off. This is the sound of a debut album — Goodbye (If You Call That Gone) — being fully realised in real time, not as a careful rollout but as a full-body release.
MAY-A is all motion — a blur of energy, her voice cutting clean through the noise with precision and force. Beside her, Chloe Dadd is ferocious on guitar, every riff landing like it’s been sharpened on impact, pushing the performance into something bigger, louder and more volatile. Together, they don’t so much play the stage as attack it, stretching everything right to the edge without letting it collapse.
The songs carry that same duality — liberating vulnerability colliding with unapologetic rage, the same instinct that’s seen her reinterpret Edge of Seventeen, reshaping it in her own image. It’s messy in the best possible way, the kind of controlled chaos that feels alive because it refuses to settle.
This isn’t an introduction. It’s an arrival — loud, unfiltered and impossible to ignore, with a presence that feels ready to spill far beyond the walls of this room.
The tour moves to Melbourne, Fremantle and Adelaide next, tickets HERE.
Images Deb Pelser
