I’m leaning against the familiar, rugged walls of Sydney’s Metro Theatre, waiting for Bombay Bicycle Club to take the stage. Ten years—an entire decade since they last graced Australia with their presence. The air here feels thick with anticipation, a buzzing crowd exchanging whispered reminders of past albums and how they’ve each carried these songs like shared secrets.
The band dropped their sixth album ‘My Big Day’ last year- it featured a parade of collaborations, each song a gathering of voices that mark the band’s reach across genres and generations. Holly Humberstone, Chaka Khan, Damon Albarn, Nilüfer Yanya, Jay Som—names that bridge Bombay Bicycle Club’s indie roots with pop and experimental royalty.
There’s something magical about watching a band so many years in, still with that fire, that inventiveness they had back in their teenage years. Jack Steadman is sporting his round glasses, the kind that frame his face just enough to pull you into his orbit. Watching him on stage is like watching someone fully let go; there’s nothing halfway in how he throws himself into each song, twisting and dancing with the kind of joy that’s impossible to fake. And there’s a sort of magnetic chemistry when he sidles over to Jamie MacColl, the two of them swapping riffs and solos, weaving their guitars into this shared, instinctive language that speaks to years of friendship and thousands of hours played.
Meanwhile, bassist Ed Nash and drummer Suren de Saram hold the whole thing together, less flamboyant, more grounded. They’re the anchor to Steadman and MacColl’s high-flying showmanship.It’s a privilege, really, to witness them in a venue like the Metro—small enough to see their expressions, raw enough to feel the vibrations as they take the stage. And as the band kicks into their set, I can’t help but feel that we’re stepping into something historic—a night that will become part of the city’s music lore, where Bombay Bicycle Club, reminded us why we fell in love with them in the first place.
