Words by Matt New
Pix by Angie New Photography
Few Australian rock bands have commanded such enduring respect as Grinspoon. From their scrappy beginnings in Lismore, famously winning Triple JJJ’s inaugural Unearthed competition in 1995, to three decades of stadium-ready riffs, radio-dominating anthems, and relentless touring, the band has carved itself into the DNA of Australian music. In 2025, they mark their 30th anniversary, and fittingly, they’ve turned the milestone into a birthday bonanza with a Wild West theme. Dust, fringe jackets, and everything in between.
Sydney’s turn in the celebrations was hosted at the Army Barracks, North Head in Manly, a location steeped in military history and indigenous cultural significance. For one night only, the open courtyard was transformed into a spaghetti Western setting, red sand underfoot and the shadows of sandstone walls setting the stage for a night of grit, sweat, and timeless rock and roll. First to fire the opening cannon were Purple Disturbance, a four-piece punk outfit hailing from Coffs Harbour. Young, raw, and brimming with restless energy, the band delivered a set that channelled the reckless abandon of Amyl and the Sniffers, the breakneck velocity of Ramones, and the abrasiveness of Black Flag.
Frontman Thomas Downes was a whirlwind of manic energy, half stand-up comedian, half punk prophet, screeching and flailing through songs with an erratic but magnetic presence. His brother Joshua anchored the chaos on bass, his thunderous low-end rumbling beneath Jed Fruedenstein’s fuzzed-out Fender Jazzmaster riffs that recalled the messy beauty of early Nirvana. Behind them, Jess Franklin kept the train on the tracks with pounding, surf-inflected drum grooves.
True to the punk ethos, timing was loose, tempos bent with emotion, and chaos reigned, but it worked. Their rough-around-the-edges sound fused garage grit with hints of surf rock swagger, making them one of those rare young bands that feel dangerous but also oddly familiar. Between songs, Thomas joked with the audience about his less-than-ideal sleeping arrangements, cheekily suggesting someone take him home, a moment that cemented their DIY, tongue-in-cheek punk spirit. Purple Disturbance may still be finding their footing, but their potential is undeniable.
Next up, Adelaide’s Bad Dreems brought a more measured, though no less intense, energy. Long regarded as one of the city’s most important contemporary rock exports, the band drew on the legacy of Cold Chisel and The Angels while layering their own blend of garage grit, Brit-pop-inspired indie hooks, and punk rawness. Frontman Ben Marwe stalked the stage with a raspy snarl that swung between Liam Gallagher’s sneer and Iggy Pop’s unhinged wails. His presence commanded attention, and paired with the band’s taut musicianship, Bad Dreems immediately locked the audience into their groove.
The set was underpinned by serious undertones, acknowledging the traditional custodians of the land and even highlighting the endangered long-nosed bandicoots that inhabit the North Head reserve. That social awareness fed naturally into their music, songs charged with political frustration, dark observations, and gritty realism. Yet despite the weight of their lyrics, the band themselves didn’t wallow in gloom; they laughed, they played, and they embraced the moment with Sydney’s receptive crowd. Bad Dreems’ performance was a reminder that rock can still be a weapon of resistance, as much about raising fists as it is about raising voices. Their presence was a perfect middle chapter to the night. Thoughtful, loud, and uncompromising.
And then it was time. Grinspoon, unchanged in line-up since their inception, a rare feat they share with the very few successful bands throughout the world, hit the stage in true celebratory fashion. A giant screen flickered with a Bonanza-themed spoof, digitally reimagining each band member into the opening credits of the classic Western TV show. With a cheer, they ripped into Unknown Pretenders from their 2024 record Whatever, Whatever, and instantly the red dust rose as thousands stomped and danced in unison.
From there, it was a relentless barrage. DCx3, Black Friday, and Just Ace blasted out in quick succession, the crowd roaring every lyric back. Phil Jamieson, clad in a tan suede fringe jacket, leapt off his fold back monitors with the same wild charisma that made him a household name decades ago. He remains the archetypal Aussie rock frontman—equal parts showman, larrikin, and heartfelt storyteller.
Grinspoon’s strength has always been versatility. Their set swung from punk fury to groove-heavy alt-rock to delicate ballads, each turn reminding fans why they’ve endured. Pat Davern’s guitar work was razor sharp, often introducing songs with improvised ambient passages that made the familiar feel fresh. Joe Hansen’s bass and Kristian Hopes’ steady drumming kept the foundation rock solid, unflashy but essential.
Highlights stacked up one after another: Sickfest brought nostalgia in spades; Rockshow and Lost Control whipped the crowd into a frenzy; and Better Off Alone and Hard Act to Follow slowed things down just enough to give space for Jamieson’s emotional vocals and an opportunity to share guitar duties with Davern. In one particularly raw moment, Jamieson performed a stripped-back acoustic version of Minute by Minute as a tribute to Skunkhour drummer Michael Sutherland, who had passed just weeks earlier. The silence of thousands during that performance was haunting and beautiful.
The band’s playful side emerged with a “choose your own adventure” moment, where fans voted between three songs via Davern’s riff teases, ultimately landing on Pedestrian. Later, their cover of INXS’ Don’t Change cemented the band’s place within Australia’s larger rock lineage, both a tribute and a declaration of belonging. Closing with Champion, Chemical Heart, and deep cut More Than You Are from their earliest EP, Grinspoon delivered 21 songs of pure rock theatre without a single ounce of filler. No gimmicks, no backing tracks, no auto-tune—just four musicians locked in and playing their hearts out.
Walking out of The Barracks, it was hard not to feel the weight of three decades collapse into a single unforgettable night. For fans who have grown up alongside Grinspoon, every song is a time capsule, a marker of youth, heartbreak, joy, and survival. The fact that they’re still here, still together, and still performing at this level is nothing short of remarkable. There was no encore, but none was needed. The echoes of More Than You Are lingered in the red dust, a fitting reminder of where it all began and how far they’ve come. For this writer, it was one of the finest Grinspoon shows I’ve ever witnessed—near-perfect in delivery, rich in history, and overflowing with heart. Thirty years in, Grinspoon remains Australia’s great rock survivors, and tonight proved their story is not done yet.
