The ornate, gorgeous Thornbury Theatre held a performance far removed from the elegant ballroom dancing that’d ordinarily grace its floors. An unassuming figure stood alone on stage: A shaggy-haired man in a nondescript ensemble of a button-up shirt, blue jeans and runners, briefly knelt to his laptop to press play on his music. Divine synths burst out of the towering PA speakers, their celestial timbre accentuated by the venue’s gilded interior. The man then frenetically pranced around the stage for an hour, bellowing and screaming into his microphone, his veins straining as if performing a dramatic exorcism. That man was John Maus, whose fierce commitment to his art is unparalleled.

This was Maus’ first Melbourne show since 2019, and his cathartic return captivated the audience with awe, bewilderment and inspiration. His decade-spanning, gothic synth-pop output recalls the dungeon synth genre and medieval arrangements more than it does ‘80s nostalgia, while also intersecting with philosophy, particularly reckoning with our ever-changing modern world. It is here that his animated performance, what he calls the “hysterical body”, is no farce—he fulfils his duty to appear authentic, honest and even primal. His passionate effort is indicative of something that all humans desire: the need to be seen.

Maus was very much seen with everyone’s eyes magnetised to his enigmatic spectacle. Before his arrival, the local experimental two-piece Sleeper and Snake turned into an eight-piece for this show, who lit up the Thornbury Theatre with their unwinding, post-punk improvisation. With modular electronics and four saxophones in the mix, their textural performance was a lovely reminder of the homegrown talent brewing in our city’s underground. They by no means matched the heightened emotions of Maus’ performance, but realistically, it would be difficult for many to do so.

Still, Sleeper and Snake stunned with their crafty musicianship, and Maus did the same to a stupefying degree. His powerhouse set was a fan’s dream with enduring favourites, deep cuts and material from his latest 2025 record, Later Than You Think, showcasing all facets of Maus. From said album, “Because We Built It” and “I Hate Antichrist” offered a liturgical urgency present in his work and personhood that became truly tangible when coming from Maus’ own mouth in person. They stood comfortably next to cherished cuts such as “…And the Rain” and “Streetlight” from his most acclaimed record, We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves, released in 2011. Massive cheers ensued for his more incantatory hits like “No Title (Molly)”, “Rights for Gays” and “Bennington” dispersed throughout the set, Maus memorably projecting different forms of love on each. Bear in mind, he’d also been athletically gallivanting and beating his head and chest with his microphone from the get-go, becoming drenched in sweat just after a few songs. So, when the pastoral and empathetic “Do Your Best” came in halfway, it was a remarkably moving respite from the danceable existential chaos.

Maus continued to fascinate—his music’s melodic, pounding basslines and his body’s vehement, mechanical jerking together compelling more of the crowd to move their own “hysterical bodies”, so they don’t misuse this opportunity by standing like a statue. The set went by in a flash, a sweat-drenched Maus scurrying off the stage and returning for an enlightening encore with the Gregorian chant “Adorabo” and “Believer”, swelling synths and church bells submerging Maus’ baritone, trying its best to cut through. By this point, he’d have very little energy left, but his screams spectacularly continued, and the audience broke into loud cheers every single time. The raw emotion behind this moment made this finale and Maus’ entire performance feel utterly rhapsodic. This was a wholly singular display of outsider art-pop music, and for that, people walked out a little more healed than they were before they witnessed Maus in the flesh.

John Maus played at the Thornbury Theatre on 25 April 2026. Follow him for updates on Instagram.