The backlit synth player set the tone with a sound which only grew in resonance. Coaxing me to my feet, the addictive thump lulled me toward the crowd that had already amassed in the pit. Despite the vastness of Hamer Hall, I packed in, knowing within the first minutes there’d be no returning to my seat.
TR/ST is an electronic music project by Canadian singer songwriter Robert Alfons and former collaborator Maya Postepski in 2010. Since the release of the debut album TRST (2012), the artist has been playing solo. 2026 marks Alfons’ first Australian tour, hitting Melbourne’s Rising Festival with a sound which encapsulates the seductive haze of a night out that never ends.
Accompanied by a synth player and a drummer, Alfons entered the stage burning with a fire which struck the dance floor alight. Shrouded in darkness, bright strobe lights cut through in multidirectional flashes which seldom illuminated the faces of the performers. Darting from side to side, Alfons brought out a frenzy in the crowd which kept bodies moving to an ever-intensifying beat. I, an interloper in a clearly adoring crowd, quickly became a TR/ST convert, transfixed by the faceless performer who brought such presence to the stage.
TR/ST is the band playing in your favourite sci-fi film’s club scene. Exciting synth beats, low yet energetic vocals and rumbling, sombre lyrics. Similarly, many in the audience fit the bill, something I realised when I looked around me and saw a subculture which I didn’t belong to. Figures clad in black flanked my sides, adorned with studded collars, impenetrable sunglasses and gothic makeup. While looks like this were dominant, there was variety too. Retired scene kids donned in light jeans and winter jumpers were not uncommon—those who’ve shed the clothes yet never lost love for the post-punk sound. What was clear was that no matter the style, all were united in the feverish joy which the music elicited.
TR/ST is a part of the cold wave genre, a music movement originating in the 1980s with proponents including The Cure and Joy Division. As a byproduct of the genres’ renaissance in the early 2010s, TR/ST embodies the cool tone with a faster, synth-pop sound characterising most of its tracks. Although Alfons’ lyrics were largely unclear over the energetic songs which dominated the setlist, his voice, brooding and charged, complimented the bitter, darkly fun beats. In a change of pace midway through the set, Alfons took to the piano for a string of slow, sentimental songs. Although his voice may have missed the mark at times, these songs introduced an intimacy which was a necessary reprieve after non-stop dance hits. They brought range and intrigue back to the show, which would’ve otherwise risked homogeneity.
The end revved back up in a burst of psychedelic, impossibly higher intensity beats. The lights, which only revealed Alfons’ face a couple times, shone yellow green and blue. The pumping strobes’ flickering fervour and the smoke machine were the essential ingredients in the mysterious haze which transported the feeling of a tight, packed nightclub into the cavernous hall. Just like Alfons, his band brought an energy which matched the electronic pop sound. I particularly enjoyed watching the synth player, whose ecstatic movement made him an eye-catching addition to the ensemble.
As my introduction to TR/ST, this performance made me a fan with ease. Whisked away by a scene I had never looked to be a part of, I felt the same devotion during the show as those who had been fans for years. As the final beats of the last song played, Alfons left in darkness, just as he began. It’s clear he knows the first rule of the dance floor—never be there when the lights turn on.