Photo: Justin Edwards

Throughout the final passage of The Middle East’s second song, Lonely, my skin prickles all over. Seven members are handling instruments, and most of them are singing passionately. I didn’t notice these harmonies on their debut EP, The Recordings Of The Middle East, because they’re toward the back of the mix and nearly inaudible. But, live: holy hell. I’d rather not use adjectives, for fear of inaccurately describing their power tonight.

There’s an element of respect in the air unlike any other show I’ve seen. While the band are playing – even when a single guitar is barely strummed, and a solitary voice pauses between lyrics – there is sheer silence across the packed room. It’s extraordinary that a band can bring so many people together and influence their restraint. When someone’s Nokia receives a message mid-song, they’re jokingly scolded by those nearby. Without hesitating, the singer references this interruption within the song’s narrative.

There are no boring bits. There’s no fat to cut. There’s nothing except seven people playing music and an audience’s enraptured attention. It’s musicianship and songwriting in its purest form. They play maybe eight songs across 45 minutes; we’re satisfied, but we could watch this all night. There’s mention of a 16-hour drive from Townsville the day before. We don’t even know their names. They don’t particularly matter right now. With the assistance of their label’s reputable name and national airplay, this capacity crowd is a relief. It’s proof that quality music rises to the top.

EP opener The Darkest Side is led by male voice and an intricately finger-picked guitar. Bandmates offer sighing voices and an accordion to boost the bottom end. Key tune Blood closes the set. It’s fantastic. The seven are forced to laugh off the song’s coda due to an apparently inebriated audience member, whose attention-hijacking is the only blemish on an otherwise perfect performance. There’s an encore, and then they’re gone.

Even as it happened, there was a sense that tonight was the kind of show – and, by extension, tour – that’ll be related with a sense of awe for years to come. The Middle East’s tipping point. It’s rare to feel privileged after attending a show, yet hours after witnessing them play, I’m perplexed as to how their music is so strongly affecting. They’re just people and songs. People telling stories on stage through song. And in an era where musical recordings are trending toward a tool for tour advertisement, it’s stunning to consider that this handful of unassuming musicians can lay claim to one of the most captivating sounds in the world.

Beforehand, Little Scout commanded the seated crowd’s attention. The four locals exhibited a typically enjoyable selection of the indie pop for which they’ve become known. They weren’t treated with much respect by the sound technicians, who belatedly realised that Laura Kovic’s keyboard was almost inaudible. The crowd rewarded the band with handclaps during Train On Time, wherein the contrasting vocals of Melissa Tickle and Patrick Elliott exhibited the group’s greatest asset. Although set closer Dead Loss seemed to contain half the energy of last week’s Fans performance, Little Scout provided a worthy introduction to a memorable show.

ANDREW MCMILLEN