It wasn’t just another gig. From the second the line began snaking down Sydney Road, the sense was clear: this one meant something. Origami Angel’s first ever Melbourne show — packed into the sweaty intimacy of Stay Gold — felt less like a tour stop and more like a reunion scene. It had that rare magic: music for the kids who grew up online, wired on caffeine and emotion, finally colliding in real life. And the supports? They understood the assignment. Completely,
Oh! Daisy – Local Sweethearts With Teeth Behind the Smile:
There's something quietly radical about a band that walks onstage without ego but still leaves the crowd stirred up and glowing. Opening the night at Stay Gold, Melbourne’s Oh! Daisy did just that — their brand of emotive pop-rock hit like a memory you didn’t know you missed until it came flooding back.
Bambi O’Kelly steered the set with a vocal presence that was raw without being ragged, her delivery full of feeling but never overwrought. Her connection with the crowd felt immediate and unfiltered — like a friend who’s not afraid to say the thing everyone else dances around. Issy Bowkett’s guitar work was thoughtful and fluid, oscillating between brightness and bite depending on the moment, while Holly Ditchfield added a glowing layer of melancholy beneath it all, giving the songs unexpected depth.
Declan Long on bass grounded the band with subtle confidence, holding the centre even when the melodies drifted dreamlike. And on drums, Nick Dordevic provided the pulse — his timing sharp, his dynamics expressive, never overpowering but always felt.
Their set blended tenderness with tension, especially during tracks like “On and On” and “Look at the Sky,” where the energy swelled just enough to get under your skin. Between songs, they cracked jokes, shared snippets of how much the moment meant, and you could tell it wasn’t rehearsed — just real people making music they love.
By the time they stepped offstage, Oh! Daisy hadn’t just warmed up the room — they’d left a mark. The kind that doesn’t shout for attention, but lingers, honest and quietly unforgettable.
Talk Heavy – Polished Chaos, Melbourne’s Loudest Secret:
If you’ve ever been to a show where you feel like the band gets you — like really gets you — that’s what it felt like when Talk Heavy took the stage at Stay Gold. There was no posturing, no over-the-top intro — just four musicians walking on, plugging in, and ripping straight into it like the room already belonged to them.
Matt Cochran, up front on vocals and guitar, wasted no time pulling everyone in. His voice cracked in all the right places, not out of weakness, but because he meant every single word. You could feel the stories in those lyrics — the frustration, the hope, the letting go. And when Patrick Shipp came in with harmonies and guitar lines that moved like they had their own pulse, it just clicked. You could see it on people’s faces: they weren’t just watching; they were feeling it.
Tayla Ellerby held the low end down with this cool, quiet confidence — no flash, just groove. There were moments where her basslines snuck up under the skin of the track and gave it this unexpected weight. And Beej Vaughan? The guy hits drums like he’s been waiting all week to let something out. Not just loud — dynamic. He knew when to pull back and when to smash, and that gave the set real shape.
The crowd might not have known every word to every song — yet — but it didn’t matter. The connection was there. By the end, when Matt thanked the room like he genuinely didn’t expect this kind of love, it felt like we’d all shared something heavier than just a gig.
Origami Angel – Loud, Loose, and Lightning in a Bottle:
And then, of course, came Origami Angel — the reason everyone packed into this venue like sardines in Doc Martens. From the first distorted note of “Lost Signal,” it was on. Not in a polite, bounce-along way. In a full-room movement kind of way. People screamed like they’d been waiting for this since high school. And maybe they had.
Ryland Heagy and Pat Doherty have mastered the art of sounding like four people while only being two. Live, they blur the line between technical precision and joyful abandon. The tempo shifts in “Doctor Whomst” were met with actual howls. “Self-Destruct” saw mosh pockets open, close, and reopen again. It wasn’t polished, and that’s exactly why it worked.
But beneath the riffs and irony, Origami Angel’s music is personal. “Escape Rope” hit like a gut punch — quiet enough to hear the crowd hold their breath, loud enough to break that breath into a collective yell by the final chorus. No pretense. Just feeling.
Between songs, Ryland cracked jokes about Sonic the Hedgehog, broken gear, and how it felt to be playing so far from home. “This is the coolest thing we’ve ever done,” he said at one point, deadpan but obviously moved. The crowd responded like he’d just handed them a lyric sheet scribbled with their own diary entries.
The final one-two of “The Title Track” and “666 Flags” was pure catharsis. No one stood still. You didn’t watch Origami Angel’s set — you participated in it. And as the lights came up and people staggered toward the exit, drenched in sweat and stupid joy, it was clear: this wasn’t just a Friday night show. It was a moment. And maybe even a turning point for this pocket of a scene that never really died — it just got older, weirder, and a little more grateful.
