UB40 Ft Ali Campbell - Big Love Australia Tour 2026

A warm January evening wrapped itself around the State Theatre as the doors opened and the crowd flowed in early, already humming with anticipation. Drinks were collected, seats were located, coats folded neatly over armrests that nobody truly believed would be used. There was that familiar, polite patience in the room, the kind that only exists when everyone knows it will evaporate the second the lights dip. The mood was open, friendly, quietly buzzing.

Kurilpa Reach walked out to an auditorium that was almost full, which immediately told you everything you needed to know about the crowd’s intent. This was not a late-arriving audience. This was a crowd ready to be part of the whole night. The Brisbane seven-piece arrived sounding locked in from the first bars, their blend of indie rock, reggae, neo-soul, roots and psych rolling out warm and generous rather than flashy. It felt lived-in, like music made by people who genuinely enjoy playing together.

One of the early joys was seeing Vicente Burdell take lead vocals from behind the drum kit, a role that looks deceptively simple until you try doing it. He handled it with ease, driving the band while singing with confidence and warmth. Out front, the band moved fluidly around him. The bassist kept everything deep in the pocket, calm and assured, while the trumpet added a bright reggae and ska edge that lifted the arrangements. The frontman switched effortlessly between sax and vocal duties, giving the songs a dynamic push and pull, while keys and rhythm guitar filled the spaces with texture and groove. Songs like Radalayde and The Conversation settled quickly into place, the band moving as one, sounding comfortable in their skin.

They showed great instincts with pacing. Afternoon Delight cooled the room beautifully, easing everyone into a sway, before Keep Falling gently lifted things again, its reflections on falling in and out of love landing with quiet recognition around the room. Running Back gave space for a sweet guitar break, and by the time Chicken Rendang rolled around, the smiles were wide and the crowd properly on side. “Thanks for coming early,” they laughed. “It’s been an honour and a privilege. But let’s be honest, you’re not here to see us.” The affection in the room said they’d won more than a few new fans.

When the house lights dipped again, the shift in energy was instant. A clean black backdrop appeared, UB40 glowing red, with “featuring Ali Campbell” sitting beneath it like a seal of authenticity. The stage was expansive but uncluttered, laid out with purpose. Horns and rhythm anchored the back, Ali stood calmly at the centre, keys and bass framing him, backing vocalists poised on either side. Red, yellow and green light washed across the band, warm and familiar.

They walked on quietly, almost modestly, dressed mostly in black, and the theatre rose as one. Any lingering hope of sitting vanished immediately. “Well, that plan’s gone,” someone laughed nearby as the opening of One in Ten cut through the room and set the tone. From there, the night unfolded not as a checklist of hits but as a shared journey. Cherry Oh Baby felt loose and joyful, Keep on Moving rolled forward with purpose, and If It Happens Again carried decades of weight without ever sounding tired.

Ali Campbell was calm, generous and completely at ease. He did not oversell the moment. He didn’t need to. His voice did the talking, that unmistakable tone cutting cleanly through the room. Homely Girl sparked one of the first big singalongs, voices rising instinctively, while Food for Thought went old school and gave the horns their moment, stepping forward and filling the theatre with that rich, brassy warmth. At the end of King, the harmonies stacked beautifully, four or five voices locking together and hanging in the air for just a heartbeat longer than expected.

One of the night’s real goosebump moments arrived with Maybe Tomorrow. Without prompting, the crowd began chanting the off-beats to the horn riff, clapping and singing in perfect time. The reaction on stage said everything. The rhythm section was a masterclass, drummer and percussionist sometimes pulling against each other, sometimes snapping perfectly together, creating that irresistible reggae push and pull that works its way into your body before your head has a say.

The opening drum beats of Please Don’t Make Me Cry earned a huge cheer, and the dance floor that followed was gloriously unselfconscious. Reggae has that effect. Near the very front, Rose danced with her mother Abrehit and a close friend, all three pressed right up against the stage, hands resting on its edge as they moved. Abrehit, 75 years young, whose name means “she brings light”, did exactly that, smiling, swaying, completely immersed, surrounded by people more than fifty years her junior who welcomed her straight into the moment. It was quietly beautiful and completely right.

After a short break, the room was ready to lift again. The hype man brought the party back as the horns stepped forward for Here I Am, staying there and blasting that familiar brass motif straight into the crowd. Red Red Wine detonated the place. A fresh surge came from the back of the theatre, people standing on chairs, laughing, shouting. “I’ve waited years for this,” someone yelled behind me, voice already rough.

Kingston Town was sung word for word, not a line missed, and for the final song something special happened. Without instruction, people turned to each other. Partners, friends, first dates and long-married couples grabbed hands, swayed, and sang Can’t Help Falling in Love with You into each other’s eyes. It was tender, loud, slightly messy and utterly perfect.

When the lights finally came up, no one rushed. Jo-Ann leaned over to her sister Vicki, laughing. “Front row centre seats are the only way to do these shows,” she said, “even if it did get a bit tight in there.” Nearby, a woman clutched a VIP merch bag as her husband adjusted his new cap, the two of them grinning like kids. It was his birthday gift, their first ever concert, and they’d danced in the aisles like seasoned gig-goers. They lingered at the edge of the stage long after the last note, quietly absorbing what they’d just experienced.

Walking back toward the train, the night followed us. Conversations spilled out of doorways and into nearby bars, favourite moments being replayed over pints. Down in the Marble Bar, voices kept circling back to the same thing. That voice. That feeling. That connection.

It was a night built on vibe, emotion and togetherness, and it delivered in spades from every angle.

Some gigs entertain you. Others remind you why you fell in love with live music in the first place.

Gallery https://musicfestivalsaustralia.com/event-photos/ub40-ft-ali-campbell-big-love-australia-tour-2026

Thanks to UB40, Ali Campbell, Face To Face Touring, Menard PR and the State Theatre for having us along

Review and Photos by Andy Kershaw for Music Kingdom Australia