ALISON MOYET : MELBOURNE 2025

 

Disc One (48:31)

  1. Fire
  2. More
  3. Such Small Ale
  4. Nobody's Diary
  5. The Impervious Me
  6. So Am I
  7. Can't Say It Like I Mean It
  8. This House
  9. Changeling
  10. Beautiful Gun

Disc Two (50:36)

  1. Only You
  2. Ordinary Girl
  3. It Won't Be Long
  4. Is This Love ?
  5. All Signs Of Life
  6. Footsteps
  7. Whispering Your Name
  8. All Cried Out
  9. Situation
  10. Love Resurrection
  11. Don't Go

Label : no label

Venue : Plenary Theatre, Melbourne Convention & Exhibition Centre, Melbourne, Australia

Recording Date : June 1, 2025

Quality : IEM Recording (A+)

Review : Full show in glorious stereo Hifi IEM recording quality. The Plenary is a magnificent venue with amazing sound. This recording has a perfect sound balance with strong vocals from Alison and the audience was mic'd up in stereo in the feed which is a nice. Lots of talking between songs and stories which is also nice. The audience gets very quiet in places but gets off their seats at the end. Hurrah!

Concert Review (Beyond The Encore) : Forty years into a solo career that’s weathered trends, reinventions, and the fickle tastes of pop culture, Alison Moyet walks on stage with the kind of quiet command that doesn't need to announce itself. At Melbourne’s The Plenary, the KEY Live Tour felt less like a retrospective and more like a recalibration—of legacy, voice, and presence. Three individual stages spanned the majority of the stage, Moyet at the centre with guitarist Brendan Cox and musical director Sean McGhee on either side. The set-up was deliberate and clean, giving the music space to breathe while reminding the audience where the focus belonged. This wasn’t a show built on spectacle; it was built on substance. Moyet has never taken the easy path. Her voice—deep, soulful, and shaped beautifully by time—is unmistakable, but what hit hardest in this show was how present she was in every single note. Nothing was phoned in. This wasn’t just a roll-out of hits. It was a journey through the emotional and sonic terrain she’s mapped over the past forty years—rich, unpredictable, and completely her own. And what a journey. The set was rich with contrast: the icy minimalism of “The Impervious Me” sat alongside the aching vulnerability of “This House,” the latter carrying a kind of emotional gravity that was almost hard to sit with. It wasn’t theatrical, it was human. Raw. Moyet didn’t ask for sympathy, she simply told the truth. That’s always been her gift—cutting through with a directness that doesn’t beg for attention, but holds it firmly. There were nods to Yazoo, of course, but they didn’t feel like nostalgia plays. “Nobody’s Diary” and “Only You” were threaded through the set with care, reshaped ever so slightly, as if to remind us these songs aren’t museum pieces—they’re still breathing. The encore versions of “Situation” and “Don’t Go” hit hard too, but not because they sounded like they did in the ‘80s. They didn’t. They sounded current, alive, full of the sort of bite that only comes with time. Between songs, Moyet was warm, dry, and incredibly funny. There’s a groundedness to her storytelling—self-deprecating, yes, but never performative. She has that rare ability to make a large room feel like a living room conversation, cutting through any lingering formality with a laugh or a deeply personal aside. It’s a subtle but powerful way of reinforcing the show’s emotional honesty. “Beautiful Gun” stood out as a moment of pure cool—sonically industrial, lit with stark 80s-inspired hues, it was sharp and deliberate without being overworked. “Footsteps,” delivered with a fresh, funky edge, acted as the perfect ramp into the much-awaited “All Cried Out,” a song that still carries the ache of its original release but now layered with decades of experience. And just when the show seemed to reach its natural end, Moyet offered one more—“Love Resurrection.” It didn’t feel like a grand finale; it felt like a quiet exhale. Beautifully paced, emotionally rich, and delivered without a trace of artifice. KEY Live isn’t a victory lap. It’s not a "look how far I've come" tour. It’s a statement that Moyet is still creating, still challenging, still redefining what it means to endure. Her voice has evolved, yes—but so has her perspective, her humour, her relationship to these songs and to us. In a landscape oversaturated with repackaged legacies, Alison Moyet reminded Melbourne what it means to be an artist who grows with their craft—and invites us along for the ride.