You can catch Pond on tour now. See dates near you here.
Walking into Revolution Hall last Saturday night felt like stepping into the eye of a kaleidoscopic storm. Pond—those perennial Australian purveyors of psychedelic ecstasy—were in town, and with them came a fervor that could barely be contained by the modest walls of the venue. Supporting their 10th album, Stung!, released earlier this summer, the band delivered a show that was as anarchic as it was revelatory.
The intimate setting of Revolution Hall was like a pressure cooker for Pond’s unrelenting energy. This wasn’t one of those detached, stadium spectacles. This was raw, sweaty communion. The crowd surged and heaved from the first note, a writhing sea of bodies propelled by pure serotonin. People moshed. They crowd-surfed. They screamed the lyrics like they were confessing sins to a neon-clad god. And amidst it all, Pond stood onstage, radiating the kind of chaotic joy that only comes from a band operating at the height of their powers.
Frontman Nicholas Allbrook—part mad scientist, part unhinged prophet—was a kinetic blur, his gangly frame careening across the stage like a pinball on an acid trip. His energy was infectious, reverberating through every riff, synth squelch, and vocal crescendo. Beside him, the rest of the band—Jay Watson, Joseph Ryan, James Ireland, and Jamie Terry—were a tightly wound engine of psych-rock perfection, cranking out tracks with a precision that somehow felt loose and free.
Touring in support of Stung!—a record that merges their trippy, sprawling DNA with newfound pop sensibilities—Pond’s setlist was a delicious balancing act. New cuts like “Neon River” and “(I’m) Stung” felt like instant classics, their bouncy grooves and glittering melodies eliciting just as much fervor as staples like “Giant Tortoise” or “Sweep Me Off My Feet.”It’s a testament to Pond’s versatility that they can pivot from cosmic jams to tightly coiled bangers without losing an ounce of momentum. If anything, the Stung! material added a new layer of dimension to their live show—a sort of kaleidoscopic pop clarity that underscored just how far the band has evolved since their early days.
A Pond concert isn’t just a show; it’s an exorcism. It’s chaos theory set to a fuzzed-out groove, a communal baptism in sound and sweat. By the time the last notes of the encore faded into the ether, the crowd was left in a dazed, ecstatic haze—shell-shocked but satiated.
Pond isn’t just a band; they’re a force of nature. And at Revolution Hall, they reminded us why they’re still at the forefront of modern psych-rock: because they make music that doesn’t just demand to be heard—it demands to be felt.
Rating: 9.1/10
