The poison chalice of rock and roll superstardom is the seductive, yet false, promise of eternal youth. Like lightning in a bottle, the volatile mix of youth and adolescent rebellion—capturing the pulse of a generation at precisely the right moment—feels unstoppable. Immune to time. But inevitably, that image cracks, and even the greats confront the reality that rock and roll, like everything else, has its limits. Like many “legacy” acts and their fans themselves have found, there’s always a coming to terms moment when the electric height of “what was” becomes only “what remains”. Something close, but not quite what it was, as the myth mellows with age.
Talking mythology, Cold Chisel has carved a place in Australian music so deep that they’re almost inseparable from the cultural fabric itself. Their sound, born in sweaty pubs and super charged by Jimmy Barnes’ incomparable vocal gifts, mixed like poetry to Don Walker and Steve Prestwich’s song writing that painted pictures of characters and places we all seem to know. For Australians, “Chisel” isn’t just shorthand; it’s an institution, something that ties generations together from every birthday, barbecue, Christmas and funeral they’ve sound tracked. Between that and earning shorthand monikers like “Barnsey” and Mossy”, its as close to immortality in music as one can get. The band ultimately, have nothing left to prove.
So when Cold Chisel announced The Big Five-O tour to celebrate their 50th anniversary, it stirred curiosity. Would it lean into the well-worn clichés of victory laps, last dances, and final bows? A band holding on and scraping in a finale on fumes? With the unspoken national shame of never having made it to a Chisel, “Barnsey,” or “Mossy” show before, I went into Wednesday night at the Brisbane Entertainment Centre with a mix of reverence and trepidation. I just wanted these icons to make it out unscathed, hoping they’d still be the same legends blared from my dad’s speakers rather than echoes of a former glory. Ultimately, the boys from Adelaide left me feeling a bit silly for ever doubting them.
As the lights dimmed in Brisbane, Jimmy Barnes, Ian Moss, Don Walker, Phil Small, and Charley Drayton emerged onstage like ghostly black apparitions, taking their places to the roar of the crowd. As the lights rose the crowd’s anticipation was electric. A poetic reflection of the band’s decades long drawing power, a mix of young fans and long-time devotees rushed to the barrier and stood in their seats.
They kicked off the set with the slow, serpentine track “Mr Crown Prosecutor.” Perhaps unintentionally, this was the same opener from their first reformation in 1998 after their 1984 split, lending a full-circle moment to the night. It might have seemed an unusual choice, not quite tapping into the suspense as some of their more anthemic tracks would have, but the band sounded phenomenal. The sheer power and simplicity of a classic rock lineup—guitar, bass, keys, and drums—was immediate and intense. Drayton’s drumming and Small’s bass punched through with a physical intensity that thumped in the chest, while Walker’s keys slinked around Mossy’s guitar, whose signature tone balanced glassy finesse with a raw crunch.
The first mega sing-along of the night kicked off with “Standing on the Outside,” and the crowd’s response was thunderous. This quickly transitioned into the classic “Cheap Wine,” with Barnes offering a wry, “Thanks for coming out on a school night, mid-week,” earning a knowing laugh from the audience. It would be one of the few times we’d hear directly from Barnes until much later in the night; his focus squarely on delivering. As the chorus of “Cheap Wine” rang out, the whole arena seemed to lift, every voice echoing back the lyrics with a kind of unified reverence.
Cold Chisel’s rockabilly roots were woven through the night, echoing the pre-show rock and roll tunes that filled the Entertainment Centre. This was on full display during “Rising Sun,” which brought a classic ’50s vibe with Andy Bickers joining the stage on a massive baritone saxophone, lending a richness to the sound. David Blight was on harmonica during “My Baby” with Ian Moss on lead vocals. Moss’s solo voice served as a reminder that he’s a powerhouse in his own right, kept from the limelight by the sheer freakishness of Barnes’ inimitable rasp.
Moss and Barnes traded blows on “When the War Is Over,” delivering a performance that held the crowd rapt as phone lights flickered across the arena. Barnes, remarkably, hasn’t lost his edge. His voice, that unmistakable rasp, sounded as though someone had taken Moss’s overdriven Vox amp and transferred its raw breakup directly onto his vocals, giving it grit but retaining control. In most cases, you forgive a legacy vocalist some wear and tear, but Barnes’s voice carried effortlessly, more potent than expected and nearly freakish in its power. To witness this level of vocal power and control after five decades was something rare and humbling. Closing my eyes I’d swear the band were still 20 years old. Capturing the music that has boomed from car radios, home stereos and Bluetooth speakers across my life as vivid and clear as ever—during a 50-year reunion show— was something that truly took me back.
The middle set was loaded with fan favourites, with Ian Moss taking centre stage for his signature solo moments. His bright silver nail polish caught the stage lights as he played the catchy earworm “Forever Now,” drawing cheers from the crowd. By the time they launched into the breezy “Saturday Night,” the audience was fully engaged, singing back the iconic “do-do-doos” with gusto. Despite the mellow, nostalgic vibe of the song, the band made an intimate shift as the overhead lights lowered, framing them just above their heads, bringing everyone back to their pub roots in “Four Walls.”
The lesser-known “Wild Colonial Boy” served as an ideal warm-up to Moss’s solo spotlight on “Plaza,” where his vocal prowess and effortless stage presence shone. As the set picked up steam, the band went full throttle with a rowdy rendition of “Shipping Steel,” followed by a blistering take on “Nothing I Want.” After “Merry Go Round,” Barnes took a rare break to speak with the crowd, sharing the hesitation he’d felt when suggesting a 50th-anniversary tour and the relief when the band eagerly agreed. Judging by the applause, the audience was equally grateful for that decision.
Then came a bittersweet moment that shifted the mood entirely. Barnes shared a dream he’d had, where Cold Chisel’s late drummer, Steve Prestwich, appeared by his side. With visible emotion, he led the band into “Flame Trees,” a song co-written by Prestwich. Already a hauntingly nostalgic tune, the backstory made the moment all the more special. Approaching a fever pitch, “Khe Sanh” kicked in and by this point, the crowd were up and singing along in full force. With “Bow River” to follow with Moss making his Statocaster’s work for their money the band were getting fast and loose and were in the zone. This sequence—from “Flame Trees” to “Bow River”—was the ultimate Chisel playlist dream and left the crowd-pleasing high just ahead of the encore.
After a brief interlude, Cold Chisel returned for an encore, kicking off with the gentle sweetness of “All for You,” followed by a spirited singalong to “Choir Girl.” As “Taipan” and “Letter to Alan” filled the venue and the band once again exited the stage to dimming lights, a few concertgoers began to trickle out. After all, this was a 22-song set from a band of individuals closing in on 70, or older. A second encore seemed unlikely. Yet, as the lights held off, anticipation returned. The band remerged with the lights much to the crowd’s delight. Rounding out the night with “Breakfast at Sweethearts” and, fittingly, closing on “Goodbye”—it was a send-off that felt like a bow tied on an unforgettable night.
The performance was a powerhouse, a stacked set of 24 tunes delivered with all the heart and finesse of a band that knows its legacy—not just for themselves, but for the generations of fans who hold their music close. This was no leisurely stroll through the hits; it was an electrifying assertion of why Cold Chisel became legends in the first place. With unbridled energy, grit, and a rawness undiminished by the years, they erased any chance of this being some nostalgia-laden compromise. Instead, it was a defiant statement that Cold Chisel still has “it”.
If there’s any critique, it’s that Barnes and the band seemed too comfortable leaving the music to do the talking. With fifty years of history, there were ample stories to share, and moments of connection would have added a deeper layer to the night. The crowd interaction was low, yet the monster setlist was more than enough to fill the time and keep spirits high.
The soul of the band remains untouched by time. Sometimes, lightning in a bottle really does hold its charge, and Cold Chisel hasn’t lost their spark; they’ve only refined it. I find myself wanting to wax lyrical about clichés I’ve previously derided, but this night wasn’t about reliving any glory days—it was about witnessing a legacy that continues to beat, as alive now as it ever was, defying the limits and the proving the medicinal benefits of rock and roll. If my oddly specific Para social fear that a potentially dodgy show at 70 years old would somehow tarnish any legacy, than exceeding my expectations only serves to strengthen that same legacy. For whatever that’s worth.
I wasn’t alive to see Cold Chisel form, break up or even reform for the first time. But I know that their music will continue long beyond, and the spirit remains for anyone who wants to witness it in 2024. Reaching back to 1984 the band asked “who needs that sentimental bullshit anyway?”, and I’ll be the first to say, I do. And anyone lucky enough to catch it on the Big Five-O is going to tell you the exact same thing.
FOUR AND A HALF STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Cold Chisel are on tour now. See dates below and grab tickets HERE
Saturday, 2 November 2024 @ Victoria Park, Herston / Brisbane QLD – SOLD OUT
Special guests: The Cruel Sea and Karen Lee Andrews
Sunday, 3 November 2024 @ Victoria Park, Herston / Brisbane QLD – SOLD OUT
Special guests: The Cruel Sea and Karen Lee Andrews
Wednesday, 6 November 2024 @ Newcastle Entertainment Centre, Broadmeadow NSW
Special guest: Karen Lee Andrews
Saturday, 9 November 2024 @ Victoria Park, Ballarat VIC
Presented by Red Hot Summer Tour
Special guests: The Cruel Sea, Birds of Tokyo, The Superjesus and Karen Lee Andrews
Sunday, 10 November 2024 @ Mornington Racecourse, VIC
Special guests: The Cruel Sea, Birds of Tokyo, The Superjesus and Karen Lee Andrews
Wednesday, 13 November 2024 @ MyState Bank Arena, Glenorchy TAS
Special guest: Karen Lee Andrews
Saturday, 16 November 2024 @ Qudos Bank Arena, Sydney, NSW
Special guest: The Cruel Sea and Karen Lee Andrews
Sunday, 17 November 2024 @ VAILO Adelaide 500, Post Race Concert, Adelaide SA
Special guests: The Cruel Sea and The Superjesus
Friday, 22 November 2024 @ Sidney Myer Music Bowl, Melbourne, VIC
Special guest: The Cruel Sea and Karen Lee Andrews
Saturday, 23 November 2024 @ Sidney Myer Music Bowl, Melbourne, VIC
Special guest: The Cruel Sea and Karen Lee Andrews
Thursday, 28 November 2024 @ Stage 88, Parkes
Special guest: The Cruel Sea and Karen Lee Andrews
Saturday, 30 November 2024 @ Roche Estate, Hunter Valley, NSW
Special guest: The Cruel Sea, Birds of Tokyo, The Superjesus and Karen Lee Andrews
Wednesday, 4 December 2024 @ Qudos Bank Arena, Sydney, NSW
Special guest: The Cruel Sea and Karen Lee Andrews
