When Cigarettes After Sex’s self titled debut came out in 2017, it just so happened that I’d already been through my emo stage (yes—I know they’re not an emo band but stay with me here). Mine came unconventionally early in the form of a side-fringe and a bad attitude from the ages of 8 to maybe 13 (Though I’m sure my mum would say way longer). This didn’t stop angst-ridden teen me from grasping onto Cigarettes After Sex’s enchanting melodies and never truly letting go.

Now with three full-length albums under their belts, the band has gained an absolutely massive following for their sultry songs—which depict a tender, yearning desire for one’s lover. After giving myself a refresher on said albums earlier in the week (as all passionate gig reviewers should do), I was more than amped to go see what they had for me. Their last endeavour to Australia was around 7 years ago, so fans both old and emerging had the same idea.

With my eager housemate Jem in tow, we got on at Wollongong Station and got off at Central Station—noting the many shades of black adorning the fans waiting for the light-rail to get to the 9,000 capacity theatre of the ICC. Once arriving at the venue, now engulfed by a sea of black fabric, I got my Super Dry and we sat in anticipation for the cigarettes we would have later that night.* Thankfully the band had kindly delayed the start to their show due to Sydney trains delays that had affected us as well.

The show began with a beautiful, string-heavy orchestral opening. When the band’s lead, Greg Gonzales strode onto the stage (in no particular rush—his usual nonchalant style from what I’ve heard), a large cry erupted from the crowd. He played his first notes, beginning with the title track from their 2024 album X’s. Good. Some have described Gonzales’ voice as androgynous, and it’s difficult for me to agree. His voice is gentle and quiet, but a pitch that soars to the very top of the room, reaching all the way to the very back rows of the room.

As the band made their way through their catalogue, weaving their way in and out of songs such as Sweet, Dark Vacay, Touch, Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby, crowds gave a short cheer for their favourites. From my vantage point, I could see the black-clad attendees standing still in awe. Cigarettes After Sex are a band where their presence is so compelling that fans would sooner watch in silence than sing along, mesmerised by melancholy.

The band themselves were about as still as their audience - bassist Randy Miller and drummer Jacob Tomsky stayed in their respective spotlights—which were causing their silhouettes to bounce around the room. Their stillness is a striking contrast to the graphic imagery of Gonzales’ lyrics. Gonzales himself would nonchalantly step out on the stage’s apron to give out his guitar picks to the eager front row. He must have had plenty to spare. Behind the band, black and white projections where changing with each song—from waterfalls to the moon, to lightning striking along time with the music. Clever lighting and smog machines cast four walls around the band, as though (romantically) trapped in a big old box.

Their set was strong from beginning to end, with not a note or a string or a cymbal out of place in the whole show. I took hold of the energy from the entirely enchanted crowd and felt it in my own soul. As it was getting late, things were drawing to a close and their last song came on. Apocalypse is a track that found virality on TikTok, and was one that everyone in the room knew the words to. NOW it was time to sing. I could see a group of friends at the back of the standing section dancing together and spinning each other around.

Cigarettes After Sex put on an unmissable performance which certainly gave me even more admiration for the band’s sound and their ability to connect with their audience. They didn’t need to jump around, or deliver a big speech, it was their tone and melodies that struck a chord with the crowd. The band’s ethos, and their global success proves that romance is not dead. They don’t tip-toe around the taboos of sex and sexuality that exist in our society, instead they string it out like lingerie on the clothesline, or like a lover calling to their sweetheart to come back to bed.

Definitely come and see them the next time they’re in town!

*I am not actually allowed to smoke, it was a joke based on their band name

CIGARETTES AFTER SEX & THE CITY

ON OUR WAY TO MEADOW 10