Under a cloudless Saturday night on the cusp of May, chills were high from the music alone. People filtered into the Kings Park amphitheatre, nestling themselves on the hill’s shoulder overlooking the Swan River—a prime place to experience the seraphic sounds of Matt Corby and his supports, Eliott and The Teskey Brothers.

Eliott, the fresh-faced singer from Cobram, Victoria played powerful coming of age ballads as dusk settled. Her songs transporting people to places of nostalgia, lessons taken from heartbreak and living vulnerably in the unknown.

The tempo changed when the Melbourne quartet transported us to southern America with their husky Motown arrangements. Sam Teskey (one of the two brothers), crafted sweep picking melodies that have earned him the title, the singing guitarist—literally making the guitar speak and fans swoon.

“I would walk down the aisle to this song,” said one woman, swinging her body in rhythm.

Brendon Love’s bass slapping and the pulsing tempo kept by drummer Liam Gough had the audience stomping and clapping in a wild release, all the while the distinct harmonica of Louisa rose on the lips of Josh Teskey.

The dancing congregation slowed to sway with an eleven-minute blues special. The tantalising strings and metronomic beat lingered under the smoky Honeymoon vocals. Raw memories hung on each vibrato and the crowd travelled deeper to a place of pain.

Sombre keys opened Matt Corby’s set, taking the crowd to an intimate space for Light My Dart Up. The layered harmonies and floating piano riffs underpinned Corby’s molten vocals in a message of gratitude for the Ordinary Life.

A gospel choir was born in the crowd when Corby belted the words “All day blazed I wonder” and they filled in the blanks singing the divine Monday melody—a classic from Telluric.

Corby and the band sang about society as a machine, nodding to pop culture, Hollywood, the corporate world, and the state of global politics, with a single from the 2016 record Empire’s Attraction.

“He’s taunting us,” were the words uttered by a concertgoer, when he began tinkering on his guitar preluding Brother. The gruff tenacity juxtaposed with the lullaby vocal arrangements embodied the light and shade of the song that arguably propelled Corby to success.

Lights melted into one another casting a colourful prism over Corby as he transported punters to the early mornings spent at his home in Rainbow Valley—surrounded by birdsong.

Ending the show after almost an hour and a half on stage, Corby once again commanded the lead solo of the evangel chorus for a memorable encore.

“We’re going to do something old here, crowd participation,” he said, egging concertgoers on to match his vocal prowess in Miracle Love.

The night was a musical immersion detailing the life and growth of the 17-year-old pop singer who first appeared on Idol in 2007, to a man who bears all in his music, but otherwise lives a life away from the public eye where he crafts a sound distinct to him—Rainbow Valley.