You’ll never see anything like this again.
The sold-out Hordern crackled with a palpable, pre-storm tension that erupted the second the synth hummed.
The air was thick and electric before a single guitar strum.
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Then Turnstile hit the stage, and Sydney cracked wide open.
This was a pure, physical surge of energy.
The band’s sound was a heavy, beautiful wrecking ball, and the crowd became a living part of it.
Pits swirled like hurricanes from the first chord.
Brendan Yates is a force of nature, a whirlwind of sweat and smiles, screaming right into our faces one minute and diving into our arms the next.
Every song, from the giant anthems of Glow On to the raw early blasts, landed with punishing weight and purpose. It was a total takeover.
My ears are ringing, my shirt is soaked, and I have zero voice left.
Turnstile proved, beyond any doubt, that they are the most vital live band on the planet right now.
Everyone who was there knows. Everyone else will just have to hear the legends.
