I first heard of Cate Le Bon from my drama teacher who often started class 20 minutes late, when I was on exchange. There’s an ephemerality to her music I can compare those months overseas to—the wistful toplines, the melancholy lingering in the lyrics below, and as a new track begins you’re whisked away once more.

As I entered the doors of Melbourne Town Hall, I thought briefly back to my time away. I went to more shows in Canada because a lot of my favourite artists only toured North America. Having come back to Melbourne, I find myself lucky to see another artist I admire. But, there is nothing that brings you back to reality more than a crowded room of people and a lady with an autoharp—an instrument I only found out about that day!

Georgia Knight opened the night with her fourperson band, her charm radiating through the room. The man in front of me nabbed the setlist off of her at the end and I saw the first song she sang was titled “He Needs Me”. The way she sang was haunting. A quick search on Google revealed her music as dark pop, trip-hop and avant-garde, yet I find that those categories don’t fully encapsulate the extent to which she uses her autoharp to create a truly unique musical experience.

At one point, she said, “There's a moment where you find yourself in slightly larger stages, and then slightly larger stages, and now [at town hall]... I never want to go any smaller than this”, and I crossed the thought in my head to see her in a venue with stickier floors and rampant humidity. I hope she continues to perform on larger stages. As her set came to a close, she thanked Cate Le Bon on her mic, which was shaped like an old analog phone, still crackling with distortion, and left the audience with the kind of joy that only comes from finding their new favourite singer.

In the interlude between artists, the stage remained more or less the same, with the major departure being small pieces of fabric added on the floor and instruments, creating a spider web effect, a mirror to the wispy shawl Cate would soon step on stage with. The Welsh singer starts her set by singing off stage, an acapella cover of “Women of the World” by Ivor Cutler and Linda Hirst. It set the tone for the night of experimental pop that is weird in all the right ways.

As I looked at the rest of the crowd, I noticed a distinct lack of phones. Maybe it was because the crowd skewed older, or maybe it was because they were all enchanted by the vocals and accompanying instrumentation as I continue to be days later.

The way Cate approached her live stages was notably different from her studio recordings. In person, her vocals carry more weight and depth. Not that they were lacking in recording, but sometimes vocal processing can wash out the raw grit and emotion you only get at a live performance.

Her physicality enhanced the listening experience, too. The way Cate used her body to feel and express the music was something that stuck with me throughout the night. By the end of the second half, she was curling into herself in an outpour of pure feeling. As the days go by, I find myself with my eyes closed, transported back to the moment, feet glued to the floor as she closed in on herself in front of me. Backlit by light, she kind of had an angelic glow around her; it was like being on psychedelics without any of the side effects.

As the set reached its one-hour mark, Cate announced that she was performing one last song, “I Know What’s Nice”. As the track ended, her vocals petered out while the band played over her exit—a perfect opposition to the beginning of the set, which began with just her.

But, of course, in 2026, a concert cannot end without a “secret” encore. Cate and her team come out for two more songs, “Ride,” and “Remembering Me”. And even with all the qualities that match it up to previous songs on the setlist, I can't help but feel that the instrumental ending of “I Know What’s Nice,” after her repeated sing-chanting of “I can’t break down” had a much stronger impact. It was spectacular in a way that the two encore songs that could fit anywhere else on the setlist, could not quite match up to.

Still, as I made my way out into the cold Melbourne night, I thought back to the two sets, and the way the artists each weaved their voices and their music into pushing the pop genre that little bit further. There is just something about the way the performances, somewhat angular, or just unnormal, come together that is not found in most common music.