Newcastle Civic Theatre

Saturday, February 6, 2016

Icehouse frontman Iva Davies steps from the shadows of the Civic Theatre and takes centre stage, an acoustic guitar in hand.

The evergreen '80s icon elicits an immediate sing-along from the audience with an acoustic rendition of his band's classic anthem Great Southern Land.

It's a memorable launching pad for the second of two sold-out nights at the venue.

Then the setlist shoots back in time to 1980, when the band was known as Flowers.

Drummer Paul Wheeler builds a powerful intro for the titular track Icehouse.

Band members appear from the wings and Icehouse's sound swells to stadium-sized proportions.

Davies leads his group on a two-hour marathon set of hits from throughout the band's catalogue.

Faithful versions of Can't Help Myself, Electric Blue, We Can Get Together, Crazy, Mr Big, Fatman, No Promises, Cross the Border and Hey Little Girl, appear alongside a sped-up Miss Divine and a cover of T. Rex's Get It On. 

Glenn Reither frequently makes his presence felt when he steps to the front of the stage for scintillating flourishes of wailing saxophone. 

At the mid-point, Davies, guitarist Paul Gildea and backing vocalist Michael Paynter conjure Street Cafe with stunning three-part harmonies and acoustic guitars.

Vocally, Davies has lost none of his burning, powerful tone.

There are moments in the show where you can close your eyes and imagine it's David Bowie crooning into the Civic Theatre.

As has been the tradition since Icehouse reformed in 2011, Davies invites Paynter from behind his keyboard to sing lead vocals on the haunting title track from Icehouse's 1987 record Man of Colours.

Paynter's soaring, effeminate voice is the polar opposite of Davies' and the stark contrast is most apparent when the former Voice contestant sings the choruses in Touch the Fire. 

The fans jump to their feet when Great Southern Land reappears in its original full-band form, and its loud ghostly dynamics charge the Civic with spine-tingling electricity.

It remains an incredible piece of music.

Nothing Too Serious brings Icehouse's epic performance to a high-energy close.

The rapturous response suggests adoration for Davies' anthemic songwriting has not faded.

Icehouse's music, though rooted in '80s synth theatrics, has stood the test of time, transcending whatever element of nostalgia might draw fans back to their concerts.

The burning question is - will the demand inspire the release of a new studio record?