Words and photos by: Ali Williams
There are certain things you can rely on in Australia: magpies will wage war in spring, every second bloke will tell you he ‘nearly made pro‘, and the Red Hot Summer Tour will show up each year ready to serve nostalgia, singalongs, and questionable fashion choices under an unrelenting sun. And there’s one thing the Gold Coast does better than overpriced cocktails and sudden afternoon storms, it’s hosting a festival in weather hot enough to melt a bin chicken.
But the Gold Coast—oh, the Gold Coast—always brings something extra. Something chaotic and beautiful. Something sweaty, emotional, mildly unhinged, and deeply communal. On Sunday 16 November, Broadwater Parklands became the epicentre of that beautiful chaos, buzzing with, music tragics, folk-revivalists, rock mums, and every shade of ‘I’m only here for Crowded House but I’ll pretend I like everyone.’
What unfolded across the afternoon was a full-spectrum festival experience: laughter, tears, harmonies, heatstroke, romance, random freaks dancing like interpretive-prodigies, and at least nine different couples slow-dancing during songs that absolutely were not slow-dance appropriate.
The Waifs kicked things off like a cool breeze that somehow still made you sweat. Their harmonies wafted over the crowd like a calm reminder that yes, you are at a festival, and no, you don’t need to inhale your beer before 2pm.
Every song felt like a warm hug from someone who also probably has a banjo in the car.
They delivered the sonic equivalent of easing into cold ocean water one toe at a time. No frantic energy. No overwhelming noise. Just warmth, earthiness, and harmonies so smooth they made everyone briefly forget about the UV index.
Donna and Vikki sounded angelic—those voices blend like two halves of the same soul—and Josh Cunningham, ever the musical wizard, stitched the sound together with delicate riffs and melodic flourishes. It was calm, charming and deceptively tight.
By London Still, the crowd had begun their first communal sway of the day. By Bridal Train, strangers were smiling at each other like they’d just collectively remembered what happiness feels like.
If festivals had spirit guides, The Waifs were ours.
Mark Seymour with Vika & Linda – Emotion, Power & A Mass Singalong Attempt. Then came the emotional shift—Mark Seymour taking the stage with Vika & Linda, who showed zero hesitation in grabbing the crowd by the heart and squeezing.
Seymour performed with the conviction of a man who has lived every lyric twice, while Vika & Linda anchored the whole set with vocal power that could shatter windshields at twenty paces. Their harmonies are less “backing vocals” and more ‘divine intervention.’
Seymour’s storytelling had the crowd locked in, and when Throw Your Arms Around Me hit, the Parklands turned into Australia’s biggest open-air flash mob. Arms wrapped around partners. Around mates. Around unsuspecting people who clearly weren’t ready for festival-level intimacy. It didn’t matter. Everyone was in it together. It was chaotic. It was earnest. It was very Australian.
The Church – Taking Us to Another Dimension (Without Needing Mushrooms). The Church, who immediately transported the crowd into that, floaty world they somehow all live in permanently onto the stage, the emotional tempo had shifted again—but this time into something dreamlike and cinematic.
Within seconds, Broadwater Parklands felt like a different universe. A quieter one. A more reflective one. A universe where long, jangly guitars feel like therapy and the breeze suddenly carries existential advice.
And when Under the Milky Way hit and the entire Gold Coast experienced temporary emotional clarity. In that moment, The Church didn’t just play a song—they suspended time. It was one of those moments where you realise how deceptively simple but compositionally tight that song actually is. People who hadn’t stopped moving all day suddenly stood still, staring out at the water like they were having a spiritual awakening. They’re one of those bands that make you stare into the distance and ponder major life decisions for no reason. They get the crowd suspended in a quiet, glowing moment. Someone probably texted their ex. Someone else absolutely cried behind sunglasses. We support them all.
Angus & Julia Stone – Floaty, Wholesome, and Sneakily Heart-breaking.
By the time Angus & Julia Stone hit, the Parklands had fully settled into golden-hour bliss. the sun had mercifully shifted from ‘skin-searing‘ to ‘Instagram-filter golden,’ and the crowd eased into that soft-focus dreamland the Stones conjure so effortlessly. Julia Stone’s voice floated across the water like warm honey, and Angus Stone’s playing was beautifully controlled – restrained bends, tasteful tremolo picking, and that lazy, loping rhythmic feel.
Their chemistry onstage is its own language—half telepathy, half giggles, half unspoken ‘remember when?‘ When two siblings are bestest of friends it’s a beautiful and irreplaceable bond, these pair manage to share that with the world on stage in the most public and open spaces yet still manage to make you feel like you’re being let into their little family and intimately experiencing that sibling love with them exclusively. Wiping away a sneaky tear that escaped my eye, being reminded of my own bestest friend in the world, my hero, my big bro, and our last time we would jam it out together on stage , he on drums and myself on bass – rock in peace Micko, till I see you on the other side .
The highlight of their set undeniably was their gorgeous cover of The Go-Betweens ‘Streets of Your Town’ hearing a Brisbane classic reimagined by two of Australia’s most beloved voices? Pure magic.
Big Jet Plane sent the crowd into collective bliss. Even the blokes who ‘don’t dance’ were secretly swaying. Don’t deny it. We saw you.
Crowded House – The Singalong Everyone Pretended They Wouldn’t Do, Then Absolutely Did
Crowded House just gave the Gold Coast a Masterclass in ‘How to Own A Festival’. When night finally draped itself across the Broadwater, Crowded House stepped into the spotlight and the crowd surged forward like they’d just been told Neil Finn was handing out free puppies.
From the first strum of Weather With You, it was crystal clear: Crowded House don’t just headline. They enchant.
Neil Finn is a rare breed—funny, warm, charming, and vocally ageless. He doesn’t need theatrics or over-the-top production; he has a catalogue so good that the songs themselves do the heavy lifting.
The singalong energy was feral in the best way. Everyone sang like they were recording backup vocals for a live album. Every chorus became a collective confession. Every hook felt iconic.The harmonies? Angelic. The atmosphere? Electric.The crowd? Off-key and loving it.
They closed with Something So Strong, and by that point it was less ‘crowd participation‘ and more ‘crowd takeover.’ The shimmering guitar work, the intricate vocal layers, the rhythmic ebb and flow of every song felt like a small universe, carefully built and lovingly delivered.
Red Hot Summer Tour at Broadwater Parklands delivered pure musical comfort food, the kind that nourishes the soul and summons memories you didn’t know you still had. From folk harmonies to rock swagger to the transcendent timeless artists, it was a day of world-class musicianship wrapped in summer heat, nostalgia, and the best of Australian live music culture. It was a day that ticked every box; technically impressive, emotionally heavy-hitting, and just loose enough around the edges to feel gloriously human.
If this is what ‘heritage’ touring looks like now, long may it continue. If you walked into Red Hot Summer Tour expecting a cruisy day of classics, you got that—and then you got sucker-punched by harmonies, nostalgia, and some unexpectedly deep emotional processing.
