Who doesn’t love a splash of sunburnt Aussie swagger on a grey Glasgow Monday? By the time DMA’s rolled into town with their ‘Hills End’ anniversary celebrations, the city felt ready for a reminder that indie rock can still be both heartfelt and enormous.
Ten years on from the release of ‘Hills End’, the record that catapulted the trio from Sydney hopefuls to global festival fixtures, the songs haven’t aged a day. If anything, they’ve grown broader shoulders. Those melody-heavy choruses and terrace-sized hooks feel purpose-built for rooms like this, and anticipation for staples like ‘Step Up the Morphine’ hung thick in the air — or at least, it should have.
Arriving early brought an eerie twist. The O2 Academy floor looked less like a sold-out rock show and more like a soundcheck that forgot to end. No queue. No pre-gig roar. Just a scattering of punters and a creeping suspicion that we’d slipped into a parallel universe. Slowly, mercifully, a trickle became a stream as fans materialised from the February cold, restoring faith in Glasgow’s gig-going reputation.
Support came courtesy of Salarymen, the project steered by Thomas Eagleton and Renee de la Motte. Their previous city visit to Nice n Sleazy might have been an intimate affair, but tonight they faced a swelling crowd and seized the moment. Their blend of hazy psych textures and nostalgia-tinged indie floated beautifully around the cavernous hall. At first the audience watched politely, almost shy, but gratitude expressed toward the headliners flipped a switch. Suddenly heads nodded, shoulders swayed, and the room warmed several degrees. By the end of their set, Salarymen had converted a healthy chunk of the early arrivals from curious onlookers into new fans.
Then came the transformation. As showtime approached, the missing masses appeared as if summoned. The once-barren floor became a living, breathing organism of chatter and expectation. When the lights finally dipped, the reaction wasn’t a cheer so much as a physical force. The band strode out to a wall of sound that felt tidal.
Frontman Tommy O’Dell commanded the stage with a cool, restless strut, his voice slicing cleanly through the roar. The connection between band and audience was instantaneous — manic yet joyous, the kind of shared frenzy that makes a venue feel twice its size. It’s easy to see why they’ve previously shared stages with giants like Liam Gallagher, Richard Ashcroft, and Kasabian; DMA’s operate with that same arena-ready confidence, even when packed into the beloved academy.
Every chorus was returned at full volume. Every beat landed like a communal heartbeat. What began as a puzzling slow burn erupted into one of those nights people will swear they witnessed firsthand years from now. A great band, a revived crowd, and a venue pushed to its emotional limits — proof that Mondays in Glasgow can still feel like the centre of the universe. What’s not to like?
Review & Photographs by John Brown Photography
