Kaiser Chiefs - A Celebration…20 Years of Employment

There are some nights that already feel like a celebration before a single note is played. Thursday at the Hordern was one of those.

Out on the forecourt the air had that soft Sydney spring warmth to it, the kind that makes you briefly forgive the city for the traffic and the rent. Clusters of people drifted toward the doors, laughing over old stories of festival weekends and sticky-floored indie clubs. You could spot the Yorkshire crowd instantly - Leeds jerseys, familiar accents, and that unmistakable northern swagger drifting through the chatter like the hum of a familiar engine. For me there was an extra twist of nostalgia: I’d gone to uni in Leeds, drummed ‘I Predict a Riot’ in rock covers bands all over Yorkshire and the north of England, and now here I was, on the other side of the world, listening to the same songs I used to belt out in pubs with low ceilings and questionable carpets. 

Life’s funny like that.

Inside, the Hordern lights dimmed and The Delta Riggs strutted out as if they’d been summoned by the promise of a good time. Elliott Hammond doesn’t just enter a stage - he occupies it, bends it, stretches it, and somehow makes it look like he’s been living there for years. From the first note he moved with that loose, feline swagger that had someone behind me perfectly summarising it: “He’s like Michael Hutchence on steroids.” And honestly, fair call. Alex Markwell carved out sharp guitar lines, Monte Tramonte kept the low end warm and playful, and Simon McConnell’s drumming had that lovely balance between tight control and joyful abandon.

What was magic was how quickly the crowd got on board. For many, this was their first time seeing the Riggs, but the connection was instant - like meeting a friend-of-a-friend you somehow already knew you’d get on with. Within minutes the whole front half of the room had loosened up, bodies swaying, voices lifting. They weren’t just a warm-up; they were the ignition.

Then the stage fell quiet, and a towering façade of the ‘Employment Office’ lit up across the screen - cracked concrete, old brickwork, shadowed windows waiting to spark to life. Snippets of the band reminiscing drifted through the PA like overheard pub chat: scraps of memory, old gigs, loyal crowds. The anticipation simmered.

When Kaiser Chiefs finally walked on, they lined up neatly across the stage and bowed - a gentle, almost old-school gesture that made the room roar. Ricky Wilson, Andrew “Whitey” White, Simon Rix, Nick “Peanut” Baines and Vijay Mistry took their places with the kind of confident ease that only comes from years of playing together. And then they detonated into ‘Everyday I Love You Less and Less’.

From that moment, the Hordern wasn’t in 2025 anymore. It was somewhere between 2005 and a half-remembered Tuesday night in a suburban Leeds club. ‘I Predict a Riot’ blew in second and the crowd nearly drowned the band out. Ricky just laughed and leaned back from the mic: “I’ve heard you - I’m not gonna have to sing tonight, so that’s great.” And he wasn’t wrong; the audience had arrived loud, ready, and very much up for it.

Then came the third song: ‘Modern Way’ - and with it, Ricky took a star turn on the cowbell, leading the rhythm with a grin as wide as the stage. It was one of those wonderfully ridiculous, perfectly Kaiser Chiefs moments: the frontman hammering a cowbell like it was the most natural thing in the world, the crowd loving every second, and the band leaning into the fun of it without missing a beat.

“Na Na Na Na Naa” kicked the room fully into gear, its playful punch bouncing brilliantly off the room’s energy. On ‘You Can Have It All’, the lighting gentled, Peanut’s keys floated out across the floor, and people finally had a moment to sway, breathe, and bask in the nostalgia without losing the warmth of the night.

The visuals turned the whole “Employment” building into a character of its own. Each track re-coloured the windows: bold cartoon bursts, surreal animations, abstract shapes, and later, dramatic sheets of fire that made the whole façade feel alive. It wasn’t just a backdrop—it was a living extension of the songs.

Hearing Employment in full, in order, felt like someone had handed the audience a time machine. ‘Oh My God’, ‘Born to Be a Dancer’, ‘Saturday Night’, ‘Time Honoured Tradition’, ‘Caroline, Yes’ - each one delivered with that blend of precision, charm, and just enough chaos to make everything feel wonderfully alive. Ricky hurled the mic stand around like a slightly dangerous prop, leapt high enough to make you nervous, and poured himself into the songs like he’d been waiting weeks to sing them again. The band were tight, polished and clearly having a blast.

‘Team Mate’ closed the album section with a sweet moment of pixel-art nostalgia. As the final notes faded, the backdrop flashed a giant “GAME OVER,” the band waved, and slipped offstage to a roar that suggested nobody was ready to leave the arcade yet.

They re-emerged moments later to an even bigger welcome. “And now, ladies and gentlemen… some more,” Ricky grinned, before slipping effortlessly into a broad Yorkshire accent: “D’ ya know—it’s been 13 years since we’ve bin ’ere. Where does tha time go?” The crowd loved it.

‘Blitzkrieg Bop’ exploded across the room, turning the Hordern into a bouncing mass of limbs and nostalgia. ‘Never Miss a Beat’ kept the momentum roaring, before the band pivoted into ‘Hole in My Soul’, a widescreen, polished anthem with a synth-pop shimmer that soared beautifully. It went down a treat and set up the inevitable giant: ‘Ruby’.

There are songs that belong to bands and songs that belong to crowds. ‘Ruby’ has become the latter. Ricky held the mic out, the Hordern roared “Ruby! Ruby! Ruby! Ruby!” back at him, and for a moment the whole room felt like it had merged into one big, euphoric voice.

And then the final blow.

“We are the Kaiser Chiefs - we are the Angry Mob!”

The reaction was seismic. ‘The Angry Mob’ is one of those deceptively clever songs - straight 4/4 on paper, but with phrasing, guitar chops and bass pushes that stretch across the bar lines and make the whole thing feel like it’s constantly leaning forward. Under red lights the entire venue clapped above their heads, and from the back of the room you could actually see the crowd bouncing in perfect unison. It was wild, communal, loud, and absolutely magic.

When the final chord boomed and the lights burst open, the crowd’s roar felt almost physical. The band soaked it up, waved goodbye, and slipped away, leaving everyone buzzing.

Outside, walking into the still-warm night, a bloke summed it up perfectly to his mate:  “That album might be 20 years old… but I don’t feel 20 years older than when I first heard it.”    “Aye,” his mate replied, “still sounds bloody brilliant, doesn’t it?”

And it did.

On a spring night in Sydney, with a crowd full of Yorkshire hearts far from home, Kaiser Chiefs didn’t just play Employment - they reminded us why it mattered. With a reception like that, here’s hoping it’s nowhere near another 13 years before they’re back.

Gallery https://musicfestivalsaustralia.com/event-photos/kaiser-chiefs-a-celebration20-years-of-employment

Thank you to the Kaiser Chiefs, The Delta Riggs, Secret Sounds, RPM PR and the Horden Pavilion for having us along.

Review & Photos by Andy Kershaw for Music Kingdom Australia