city and colour at red hill auditorium / perth, wa

Caitlin Harnett & The Pony Boys

Caitlin Harnett & The Pony Boys opened the night with a set that felt like a slow exhale. Their mix of indie-folk and country charm wrapped around the crowd like the first drink of the night. Easy, genuine, and full of heart. Caitlin’s vocals carried beautifully, equal parts ache and comfort. The band played with effortless chemistry, filling the space with stories that felt close and lived-in. It wasn’t a loud start, but it was one that made everyone stop and listen. The perfect tone-setter.

Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats

When Nathaniel Rateliff hit the stage, the energy flipped instantly. The crowd that had been swaying turned into a sea of cheers and raised glasses. Backed by The Night Sweats, Rateliff brought that signature mix of grit, soul, and joy, the kind that makes you want to dance and cry at the same time. He had the crowd eating out of his hand, moving, clapping, and shouting along. It was pure fun, pure release. A set full of heart and swagger that left the hillside buzzing.

City and Colour

By the time City and Colour took the stage, the night had softened again. The lights dimmed, and a hush spread through the crowd like everyone instinctively knew to slow down. Dallas Green walked out to applause that quickly turned to awe the moment he started to sing.

There’s something about Dallas Green that makes big spaces feel small. Even surrounded by thousands, it felt like he was singing directly to each person, eyes closed, voice cutting through the night air. The band around him was subtle but powerful, every note falling exactly where it needed to. They moved through old favourites and newer songs with the kind of ease that only comes from years on the road together. Nothing felt forced or polished, just real and full of feeling.

Midway through the set, he paused to talk about “We Found Each Other in the Dark,” saying it was a song about being kinder to one another. A few people clapped, and he laughed, pointing out how that reaction never fails to amuse him. He repeated it again, “It’s a song about being kinder to one another,” and this time the whole crowd erupted in cheers. What followed was a small, genuine moment of reflection. He spoke about kindness, about being grateful to still be here, and about sharing that energy with the people around us, our friends, our families, and the ones we share the stage with. It was simple, heartfelt, and so unmistakably him.

Moments of silence hung between songs, the kind of quiet that doesn’t come from boredom but from reverence. You could hear people whispering the words under their breath, caught somewhere between singing and not wanting to break the spell. When a song ended, the applause was explosive, a sudden wave of gratitude before it all melted back into stillness.

City and Colour didn’t close the night with fireworks or fanfare. They didn’t need to. The magic was in the restraint, in the warmth of his voice, the honesty in the lyrics, and the way the music lingered even after the lights came up. It was the kind of show that reminded everyone why we go to gigs in the first place. To feel something real.