Picture this: Sydney is experiencing a heat wave and tonight at the Sydney Opera House glowing under the stars, there is the unmistakable buzz of a sold-out crowd. The Grammy-nominated, Platinum-selling British alt-pop icons, Glass Animals, are here, about to send ripples through the city with their magnetic sound. The Opera House forecourt, an iconic Sydney landmark, is transformed into a sonic playground as fans gather to bask in the shimmering energy of a band that’s redefined modern alt-pop.
The tour celebrates the release of ‘I Love You So F***ing Much,’ their fourth studio album which dropped in July. It’s a kaleidoscopic exploration of love in all its forms, wrapped in retro-futuristic production that feels like floating through space. And tonight, those love-soaked vibes and cosmic beats will be spilling over Sydney Harbour.
Opening the night for Glass Animals is MAY-A, who steps onto the stage with a quiet confidence that blooms into something electric as the first chords hit. Her band delivers a set of razor-sharp indie rock. Chloe Dadd on lead guitar is a revelation in her own right. She spins and twirls like a dervish, together with MAY-A forming a dynamic push-and-pull.
The crowd is a mass of damp, glistening bodies, swaying in the unseasonal heat. The stage feels ripped from the imagination of Stanley Kubrick—a sleek, glowing homage to 2001: A Space Odyssey. It’s all clean lines and computer screens, the kind of setup that screams “futuristic.” And yet, in a cheeky nod to their own mythology, a roadie walks out and places a pineapple on the drum riser. The pineapple, a talismanic oddity, has been intertwined with Glass Animals’ identity for years. It pops up in their lyrics, gets immortalised in fan art, and is carted to shows like some kind of spiky mascot.
The lore of the pineapple is absurd and delightful and started in Australia. In 2017, Reading Festival tried to outlaw the fruit, claiming it was too much of a hazard. But fans simply arrived with inflatable pineapples instead, a surreal act of collective defiance.
When Glass Animals finally take the stage, the atmosphere shifts up a gear. Dave Bayley is a live wire, an uncontainable burst of movement and charisma. He embodies the music, weaving his kinetic energy through a sea of day-glo lights that paint the band in vibrant, electric hues. Behind me, the crowd surges their joy palpable, but what’s striking is how much fun the band seems to be having. It’s a shared celebration, as weird and wonderful as the pineapple sitting on stage, in the middle of a heat wave.
