Commodores - Greatest Hits Tour
Sydney’s State Theatre looked like it had dressed for soul church: gold flourishes catching the house lights, a sea of fans swapping stories about first slow-dances to Three Times a Lady and school-formals that ended in a Brick House conga line. Thirty-plus years since their last Sydney date, anticipation had weight; you could feel it in the foyer hum and the hush that fell as the curtains twitched. Tonight wasn’t just a concert - it was a reunion with a soundtrack that lives in people’s bones.
Brisbane-born (Sydney-based of late) Jack Bratt walked on with a grin and a loop pedal, immediately turning “unknown opener” into “oh, this bloke’s the real deal.” He stitched rhythmic loops into a sturdy bed, then cut a clean guitar solo across it - the sort of tone that makes photographers forget to shoot for a bar or two. His Hendrix detour, Little Wing, was all air and ache, respectful without being reverential.
“Thanks for coming out early - you don’t know who I am; you sat through 30 minutes of songs you don’t know. I really appreciate it,” he said, earning a proper Sydney cheer. He signed off with, “You’re in for a fantastic treat tonight - and they’re some of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. Dance the night away.” Consider the room warmed.
Then the lights fell. A low hum rolled across the room as four silhouettes took their marks and the first deep groove of Right Here’n Now hit. The Commodores were in Sydney, and they looked every bit the part. Dressed in black with silver sequins, black shades catching the light, they radiated cool. Behind them, the Mean Machine - the white-clad rhythm section - locked in immediately, laying down that unmistakable Motown pocket that makes your hips move before your brain catches up.
Sexy Lady, Wild Thing, I Feel Sanctified - three songs in and the theatre was on its feet. Then “We’re going to play something you know, something you will sing along to, something to really get this party started” - cue the unmistakable opening piano of Easy. The lights softened to gold, voices dropped to a hush, and the harmonies soared so pure you could’ve heard a pin drop between the notes. A spontaneous wave of applause broke out mid-song as the band cut the sound and sang a cappella, each voice sliding perfectly into the next. It was pure magic.
From there, the show unfolded like a time machine. Sail On floated in with its bittersweet warmth, then a seamless medley of Just to Be Close to You, Zoom, and Sweet Love pulled everyone into that smooth, honeyed space where The Commodores truly live. Thomas Dawson Jr. steered the keys with effortless class, Tyron Stanton’s bass pulsed like a heartbeat, and Scott Kay’s drumming was pure groove discipline - tight, tasteful, always serving the song.
Up front, on stage alongside the founding figure is the next generation of funk: Cody Orange and Colin Orange - the twin sons of Walter ‘Clyde’ Orange, who bring fresh energy and a familial thread that ties the past to the present. They worked the crowd with effortless charm - one handling soaring lead vocals and percussion, the other gliding between guitar and keys - their brotherly chemistry electric. Brent Carter’s voice cut through the mix, soulful and commanding, while William “WAK” King, the band’s last original member, played ringmaster, trumpet in hand, eyes twinkling. “Sydney,” he said, scanning the stage markings, “I’m so confused… there are so many X’s on the floor. I guess they’re all mine!” The room roared.
Then came a moment that caught everyone off guard. Brent Carter turned toward William King, who was seated at the keyboard, and raised his arms. “Let’s take a moment to thank this gentleman right here,” he said, “for keeping the Commodores alive for fifty-seven years.” King gave a modest thumbs-up as the crowd surged to its feet. It wasn’t rehearsed; it was raw and real. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. In that instant, the entire theatre understood what endurance looks like when it’s built on soul.
Then the funk train hit full throttle. Too Hot ta Trot lit the fuse, Machine Gun fired on all cylinders, and Lady (You Bring Me Up) had half the theatre dancing in their seats. During the chorus, Colin borrowed a fan’s phone mid-song, flipped it around, and snapped a stage selfie without missing a beat. The joy was contagious. As the night eased into its final stretch, the energy softened. Still rolled in tender and true, followed by a stunning Three Times a Lady that had couples holding hands and wiping away quiet tears. Then came Nightshift, bathed in blue light, a soulful nod to Marvin and Jackie, delivered with reverence and heart.
Finally, that unmistakable bassline dropped - Brick House. State Theatre had become a full-blown street party. It was a full house, and long before the final encore the front rows of the stalls had surged forward, bodies swaying, sequins flashing in the lights, security grinning because even they couldn’t resist the groove. The place exploded, the air felt thick with soul and brass, the aisles filled, chandeliers trembled, and the walls practically sweated funk. When it was over, nobody wanted to leave - members of the band sat along the edge of the stage, taking selfies, shaking hands, hugging fans. There was no rock-star detachment here - just warmth, gratitude, and legacy being passed, note by note, to the next generation.
Out on Market Street, the crowd spilled into the night still grinning, still humming. “That’s not just Motown. That’s immortality with a bassline….” someone said - “...You could feel it in your ribs - they don’t make acts or soul like that anymore.” One guy exclaimed to his mates - “They made the State Theatre feel like a church, a dancefloor, and a family reunion all at once!” And as one woman laughed, fanning herself with her program, she nailed it perfectly: “I’ve been to a lot of shows in this theatre, but tonight felt alive. The stalls were moving, the walls were singing, and for ninety minutes we all remembered how good it feels to feel.”
The Commodores didn’t just revisit their past. They reminded Sydney that soul isn’t a genre — it’s a feeling. And on this night, it felt very much alive.
Full gallery https://musicfestivalsaustralia.com/event-photos/commodores-greatest-hits-tour
Thanks to the Commodores, Jack Bratt, Metropolis Touring, John Howarth and the State Theatre for having us along
Review and Photos by Andy Kershaw for Music Kingdom Australia
