ROADBOSS hitches a ride with ‘country-adjacent’ music star Brad Cox and his Mack Anthem to the last-ever Bluesfest to see how the rockstar rolls
It’s the perfect title for a song, at least that’s what I’m thinking from the passenger seat as ‘country-adjacent’ music star Brad Cox glides his Mack Anthem down the highway, headed for Byron Bay. It’s the last-ever Bluesfest, closing out a momentous 35-year run for the Easter weekend festival, so ROADBOSS hitched a ride with ‘Coxy’ to see how the rockstar rolls.
What’s a Golden Guitar-winning country music superstar doing heading to a blues festival, in a Mack truck? We’ll get to the truck, but first, this isn’t Brad’s first Bluesfest appearance having stormed the stage last year on a lineup that included legends like Jimmy Barnes, Ian Moss and Tom Jones. He also recently played the eclectic Yours and Owls Festival in Wollongong, following acts from Fontaines D.C, Denzel Curry and the Goo Goo Dolls.
You see, Brad’s uniquely versatile and his fanbase is diverse. He can belt out country ballads to a 30,000-person crowd at CMC Rocks, or get the mosh pumping with rock anthems at a contemporary festival like Bluesfest – he’s even been nominated for an ARIA.
This country-meets-rock approach is summed up by Brad as ‘country-adjacent’, which is pretty spot on based on what I’ve heard so far. He’s still a country music singer at heart, but there’s more to Brad than songs about beer – a lot more.
“I want to be remembered as an Australian musician, not a country musician,” he says quietly, as if he shouldn’t be saying it out loud. “It lives in my heart, it lives in here, but what’s important now is writing songs about things that I believe in and things I’m concerned about.”
It lives in my heart, it lives in here, but what’s important now is writing songs about things that I believe in and things I’m concerned about.
Bluesfest is an opportunity to drip-feed his new sound to a diverse audience that’ll be part-country, part-bluesy, part-how’d-I-get-here-and-who-am-I, and the opportunity couldn’t come at a better time.
It’s Brad’s 30th birthday in a week, making him almost as old as the festival, so this weekend will be both a celebration and a sendoff. He’s also gearing up to release his fourth album, which will detour from earlier country hits like ‘Acres’ and ‘Lakehouse’, in favour of a more progressive, Aussie rock sound reminiscent of, and expanding upon, his latest single ‘I’m a boxer’.
“If Bruce Springsteen and Cold Chisel had an obnoxious love child, who hung around the naughty kids from The 1975,” he smirks from the driver’s seat, “that’s what my next album will sound like.”
Brad lights up as we chat about his new album, and it’s clear this is his magnum opus – now more artist than performer as he discusses the inner workings of his musical evolution.
Of course, with a change in sound comes the risk he’ll alienate his existing audience. And it’s a risk Brad is all too aware of.
“There’s this terrifying element that it’s going to divide fans,” he says, “but I keep telling myself that’s no way to live a career.”
Brad Cox’s mobile billboard – a Mack Anthem – came about through a partnership with Mack Trucks Australia. Images: Thomas Wielecki
We pause for a second as I ponder the significance of his words, and he angles his head towards the side mirror for a look ahead.
We’re in stop-start traffic as far as the eye can see, heading south towards the Gold Coast, sandwiched in the sprawl as city-dwellers escape for the Easter long-weekend. We’re also being honked and yelled at pretty frequently, as fans – of which he has plenty – spot the Brad Cox billboard on wheels, only to find that it’s actually him in the driver’s seat.
“It’s scary, man,” he says. “Actually, it’s terrifying. But at the same time, it’s like, ‘you’re Brad Cox, you’re still writing Brad Cox songs, and the fans will come with you.’”
We return to silence, our gaze extending to the kilometres of Pacific Motorway gridlock, and the profundity of his words again sink in.
Brad possesses a sharp country wit that favours brevity, but on occasion breaks into philosophical ramblings about his musical philosophy, jolting me from cackle to contemplation – even confusion. As will become the theme throughout my time with Brad, he’s as diverse as he is down to earth, and you never know what’s coming next.
“‘Endemic Intelligence in Multiple Dimensions’,” he says at a truck stop, coffee in hand, as we discuss his new album. “What, is that the name?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around the string of words. Surely not.
The first truck I got into was a 1987 Mack Super-Liner, an old V8 that’s still running grain around the Riverina … it scared the whole district, being so loud and obnoxious.
“Yeah, man, exactly,” he continues. “That’s the first thing I want people to do. I want them to go, ‘what?’ – I want them to think.” I nod in appreciation, starting to understand that Brad isn’t a man you can put in a box. As a musician, or a performer, or a person.
“Here, I’ll show you my new album,” he says once we’re back in the truck, fiddling with the stereo. “This sound system’s pretty good.”
The ultimate Anthem
A truck might feel like an unusual place to get to know a rockstar, but Brad’s no stranger to the cabin of a Mack – after being given a taste of life behind the wheel on farms around Australia.
“The first truck I got into was a 1987 Mack Super-Liner, an old V8 that’s still running grain around the Riverina,” he tells me. “So I learnt to drive that on a farm – it scared the whole district, being so loud and obnoxious.”
That particular truck, Brad tells me, was in the video clip for ‘Water on the ground’ – a song about life on the land and the toll a drought can take. The white Super-Liner runs up a dirt road half-way through the clip, the sound of its V8 absent as Brad sings about a lack of water on the ground.
It wasn’t the natural progression many had, with Brad gravitating to farm work later in life, growing up in Jindabyne, nestled at the base of the Snowy Mountains. He was more likely to meet a skier than a truckie.
Brad can’t drive the truck to every show and has a driver that’ll jump in when needed. He does, however, notch up a fair few kilometres. Images: Thomas Wielecki
“My family weren’t into trucks or anything like that,” he says. “I’ve got a school teacher for a father and my mother works for National Parks and Wildlife Service – or the National Sparks and Wildfires as I like to call them.”
As a kid Brad could be found hitting the ski slopes, explaining to me that being a bigger kid, “gravity was on my side” – making him a rocket.
“I was always the fastest because I was the heaviest,” he jokes, “and I reckon I’d still give it a red hot crack.”
In his teen years, Brad started to hang around the farm kids which sparked a love of the land. He also started playing drums in a high school band and was on the lookout for inspiration.
“I grew up in town but as a teenager I’d go out riding motorbikes, bloody chasing cows and what-not with mates,” he laughs. “That’s where I kind of learned to love all things rural, and then country music.”
While Jindabyne isn’t a big music town, it does happen to be a big party town. By the time Brad started playing gigs, he worked out he could make good money playing covers for drunk tourists and, being a transient population, they’d never know if he played the same songs over and over.
All of my crew guys are working like 20-hour days, or sleeping in tiny little hotel rooms in backwood towns, and I try and look after them as best as anyone can.
“I was probably making more money than any other 15- or 16-year-old kid could doing cover gigs,” he laughs. “I remember playing the same seven songs about five times a night – mostly Paul Kelly at that point, too.”
After finishing school Brad went off to work a harvest in Wagga Wagga, and ended up staying for a few years. He spent his days driving the chaser bin, fixing gear, and learning the ins and outs of running a farm. “I probably spent more time with that family the last decade than I’ve spent with my own,” he says, reminiscing.
“Eugene Moloney, whose farm it was, is still the one of the hardest men I’ve ever had to work for, for a few different reasons, but he’s one of my favourite people. The bloke probably taught me more about life and getting through it than anyone else and it’s people like that who inspire a lot of the music.”
After cutting his teeth in Wagga, and making some great mates in the process, it was time for a change. A big one. “A friend went over to WA to chase some sheep on a station, and then she went up to the Northern Territory,” he explains. “She told me about it when she came back for Christmas one year and I was just so intrigued.” Sure enough, Brad set off for the Territory.
“It was a daylight ‘til dark kind of job,” he tells me. “You’re just running the yards all day, and I was a little fat kid from the snow, so I had to learn to work with these people. You’d have a punch-on in the yard, and you live in a camp so you’re forced to shake hands and have a beer with them before doing it again tomorrow.”
He’d end up staying for two seasons, working his way up to mustering on horseback, and driving an old farm truck – also a Mack – that had no electronics whatsoever. Not even lights.
Besides getting to and from gigs, Brad’s Mack also plays a key role in transporting his large and elaborate stage setup. Images: Thomas Wielecki
“There were a few nights carting wieners in that old Mack,” Brad tells me, shaking his head, “where I had to ring up and get the Toyota to come down and drive in front of me. It was after dark and I’m on a 60-odd-kilometre dirt track on the property with no headlights, no trailer brakes or anything. You get pretty good at using the gears.”
More recently, Brad found his way back into a Mack, but it’s a hell of a lot nicer. The partnership came about by chance, after the team at Mack Trucks Australia reached out with an offer Brad couldn’t refuse, and having driven mostly Macks, the Bulldog was a perfect match.
“I’d played a few corporate gigs for Volvo Group Australia and got to meet the team,” he says. “The conversation started around a bit of a touring roadshow. It was pretty ambitious but they offered me this – so now I drive around with a 40-foot billboard behind me!”
After the Mack Trucks Australia deal was inked out, Brad says he had the idea for the wildly popular ‘Everything I’ve Got’ tour. Basically he’d pack up his life, leave his beloved patch of dirt in Yeppoon, and take to the roads in the Anthem.
Of course, he’d need a trailer. A good mate of Brad’s, Aaron Kitson, happens to own Highway Rentals Australia and Kitson Freighters. He was kind enough to sling Brad a trailer to use, which would be branded-up in the trademark Brad Cox Roadshow livery it proudly wears today.
“It’s got to be good publicity for you?” I asked Aaron before the trip. “Oh, I didn’t do it for publicity,” he told me. “I just wanted to help Coxy out because he’s a mate!”
I’ve got a school teacher for a father and my mother works for National Parks and Wildlife Service – or the National Sparks and Wildfires as I like to call them.
And he’s a handy mate indeed. Aaron also recently flew Brad from Wagga Wagga to a show in Queensland, aboard his light plane. Helluva way to head to a show, and I have no doubt the banter over the headsets was top tier.
Of course, Brad can’t drive the truck to every show and has a driver that’ll jump in when needed. He does, however, notch up a fair few kilometres.
“I drove it from Adelaide back to Yeppoon recently, without one back complaint,” he laughs. “I did it with my mate Dazza and we had a ball, man. We just spent three days chatting and catching up, it was almost a bit of a break really.”
Trucks are definitely back under Brad’s skin after spending so much time in the Anthem, and he hasn’t ruled out one day buying one.
“I could definitely see myself owning trucks,” Brad contemplates, “but I’d rather get given them for free! In all seriousness though, aside from carting our gear around, this truck has been awesome for promotion.”
We pull up for another breather at our final rest stop, just over the New South Wales border, now only an hour or two from the Byron Bay Events Farm where the festival will take place.
Awful traffic saw our 180km trip to the Bluesfest venue, the Byron Bay Events farm, take five hours! Images: Thomas Wielecki
As we stand chatting at the stop, Brad urges me not to walk through a pungent puddle of half-dried urine, knowing full well it’d end up in the carpet of his truck. While this is happening, a ute-load of guys pass, yelling ‘I love Cox’ out the window.
I’m quickly getting used to the kind of attention Brad attracts. The ‘cock’ adorning his trailer tells me he’s clearly all for the wordplay, so the heckling is welcomed. He laughs and waves, swinging an arm up as he smiles back.
After another hour on the road, we’re finally pulling up at the festival, arriving late on Thursday afternoon having spent five hours in traffic. Yep, almost five hours to cover off 180km.
“Fuck me,” Brad exclaims, “I can’t wait to get out and stretch my legs.”
I couldn’t agree more, now counting the seconds as I scan the entry for a port-a-loo.
We’re ushered through a series of gates to an access road behind the festival. I jump out and make a run for it, and a traffic controller sends Brad down the wrong road.
We played the sunset slot for 25,000 people. I don’t get nervous, performing is my drug and I love it, but that gig had so much weight behind it.
He’s forced to reverse the semi back up a tight dirt road before spinning around. I’m now watching from the access road, part of a crowd that is forming behind the main stage.
He puts on a masterclass as the traffic controllers direct him, the audience of volunteers and workers now growing – presumably impressed to see an artist wheeling his own ‘tour bus’. Brad positions the Mack hard-up against the backstage loading dock, like it’s nothing.
“I’ve gotten pretty handy at reversing the boat,” he laughs, “and this is pretty much the same thing.”
What you see is what you get
Ask Brad and he’ll tell you he’s lucky, but his success is largely by design – helped along by a truck-load of talent.
Take for instance how he met his now-wife Sammy White, also a musician, who tells us the two met when she was serendipitously asked to drive him between stages at an award event. Brad confirms this, although reiterates that he shot his shot more than once.
“Persistence beat resistance there,” he laughs.
The logistics operation behind a festival like Bluesfest is enormous, and the trucks don’t simply deliver the gear and leave. Images: Thomas Wielecki
The same persistence can be attributed to Brad’s musical success, and the evolution he’s now embarking on, as he executes a master plan.
“It’s all calculated, absolutely,” he says, without giving too much away. “I wouldn’t call the new album political, but I would say it’s very honest and real and opinionated.”
Then there’s the hard yakka. Brad’s work ethic is clearly top-notch, belting out around 90 shows last year alone, but it’s the rural work, especially his time on that formative station in the Northern Territory, that shaped his commitment to the cause.
“There was one mentor up there that told me one day, ‘when you think you’re absolutely done, finished, down and out, you’re only at 50 per cent – there’s a lot left’,” he says, as he discusses a time when he was ready to throw in the towel.
These days, as crowds grow bigger, Brad’s approach to music has changed. Gone are the days of going out half-pissed to bang out a handful of songs, instead making sure fans get a show that justifies the hard-earned they spent on a ticket.
“I get people saying all the time, ‘he was fucking blind’, but I haven’t been drunk at a gig for years,” he laughs. “What’s not lost on me though, is that there are people who potentially missed a meal or a mortgage repayment to come see me play. That’s quite an honour but it’s also quite a responsibility.”
I grew up in town but as a teenager I’d go out riding motorbikes, bloody chasing cows and what-not with mates. That’s where I kind of learned to love all things rural, and then country music.
Brad’s not a man that gets nervous, and he’ll be the first to tell you that, but with the huge crowds comes a lot more pressure to get it right.
“CMC Rocks was the first time I saw a seriously big crowd,” he says. “We played the sunset slot for 25,000 people. I don’t get nervous, performing is my drug and I love it, but that gig had so much weight behind it. I was side-stage beforehand and I couldn’t actually look at the crowd because it was just so overwhelming.”
When I ask how it went, assuming the nerves may have gotten in the way, Brad turns to me smiling: “Oh, the intro track played and all of that went away. I’m a show off!”
Just as his hit song, ‘Acres’, talks about his love of his property and time spent there unwinding, Brad enjoys the fruits of his labour when he can, either at home or out on the boat.
“I’ve figured out that to give my best on stage, I’ve got to knock-off,” he says. “There’s this theory in sport or even business that you need to grind, grind, grind. I’ve just figured out that I’ve got to rest and that’s a really nice realisation because I want to be doing this when I’m 75. I’ll spend time with mates, I’ll spend time out on the reef in the boat. I’ve even been planting fruit trees at home.”
Another line in ‘Acres’ that clearly rings true is, “I love the boys in my band”, and it’s hard not to spot. Either that, or the boys are very, very good at pretending to like each other.
Including band members, there’s a team of around 30 people who work behind the scenes to make the Brad Cox Roadshow a reality. Images: Thomas Wielecki
The band is made up of the hugely talented Jesse O’Neill (guitarist), Hunter Beasley (strings), James Edge (drummer) and Jono Burgess (bassist) – all good mates with Brad and top blokes, as seems to be the case for everybody within his orbit.
“We really are best mates,” he says. “We love each other dearly. We’ve had this thing for many, many years and we didn’t realise that a lot of bands that play together don’t hang out together. We only realised that recently.”
Including the band members, there’s a team of around 30 people who work behind the scenes to make the Brad Cox Roadshow a reality – an ensemble that is, like his success, very much by design.
“He attracts weird, talented people,” laughs Sammy. “He sort of collects them and they become family.”
“All of my crew guys are working like 20-hour days, or sleeping in tiny little hotel rooms in backwood towns, and I try and look after them as best as anyone can,” Brad then tells me.
“But the reason they stick around is because they love this project and they love the connection we all have. The Brad Cox Roadshow is a great place to work if you’re going through some shit, because there’s 10 homies that are constantly checking in!”
There was one mentor up there that told me one day, ‘when you think you’re absolutely done, finished, down and out, you’re only at 50 per cent – there’s a lot left’.
When I ask Brad if it’s hard to find good people, he smiles. “Not really, but we do have a strict no-fuckwit policy.”
It’s clear, talking to his tour manager, Adam Roff, that Brad looks after his people, which explains the unanimous adoration as we chat to the crew members on this trip.
“In this industry, I don’t think any techs or crew members work for the ‘job’,” Adam explains. “We work for the people. Working for good artists is where it’s at.”
Blues-a-go
There’s an eerie calm-before-the-storm feeling in the air. It’s 11:00am at the Crossroads mainstage, and beyond some sound checks the action doesn’t kick off until 1:00pm. A small crowd loiters up front to snag the best view. Others perch up on camp chairs to the side of the stage.
We’ve been lucky enough to snag a couple of ‘AA passes’ – or all-access passes – which are in hot demand. These basically give us free reign to go anywhere Brad does, flashing our lanyards to get backstage, into the green rooms – anywhere.
Once backstage, artists hum, rehearse and get their heads in the game – like athletes readying themselves before a match, while crew members scurry around them to make sure it all goes to plan.
It’s clear, talking to his tour manager, Adam Roff, that Brad looks after his people, which explains the unanimous adoration as we chat to the crew members on this trip. Images: Thomas Wielecki
The upside of the AA pass is that you’re shoulder-to-shoulder with famous musicians, but the downside is you can’t stare. The aim is to blend in, as if just another crew member, anonymous until asked and then it’s…‘here with the Brad Cox Roadshow’.
The logistics operation behind a festival like this one is enormous, and the trucks don’t simply deliver the gear and leave. Behind every stage is a series of loading docks, with trailers accessed using ramps that lead to the stage.
Gear is placed on wheelable stages, which are positioned backstage, ready to be rolled out and locked in place for a performance. The various other artists on the lineup all have a little raised stage, with drum kits, guitars, you name it, and it’s time to set up Brad’s.
As I watch the crew get to work, the Pierce Brothers perform just a few metres in front of us, which gives me a taste of just how exhilarating it is from up here. It’s a different view to what I’m used to, looking down at the crazed crowd I’m normally stuffed into.
I notice Brad’s stage, like his Mack out back, is bigger than the others. Right now, though, it’s empty and won’t be adorned with instruments or props until the final hour.
The access road behind the stage, where artists, crew and insiders loiter, is also home to an array of trucks and trailers for the weekend. It’s mostly non-descript white semis, absent from branding, but then there’s Brad’s Mack which sticks out ‘like a dog’s balls’, to quote one of the crowd control guys who ushered us in on the first day.
If Bruce Springsteen and Cold Chisel had an obnoxious love child, who hung around the naughty kids from The 1975, that’s what my next album will sound like.
It’s a statement and a half, and not even Crowded House or Toto – both playing on the same stage – have a rolling billboard like this one.
Brad’s posse starts to arrive, including his parents who drove 15 hours from his home town of Jindabyne, and friends who have made the trek from north, west, south – some even brought their young children along. It’s always a big show-up for Brad, but with his 30th birthday just a week away this performance doubles as a sort of shindig to round out his third decade on this big hunk of dirt.
So far today, we’re yet to run into Brad. He rolls in around 3:00pm, a few hours behind his crew, rested and ready to rip the roof off the Crossroads main stage in just a couple of hours. He heads straight for the green rooms – an air-conditioned oasis away from the crowds, where artists drink, sing, lay-low or do whatever else they wish.
After a quick chat, I head back to watch the crew set up backstage, but I urge our shooter, Thomas, to loiter – capturing the excitement in a way words can’t.
Back at the truck, the crew are busy finalising Brad’s riser stage setup so that it can be rolled out onto the mainstage in pieces. It’s that big. It then all gets plugged in and tested, which is a tense process and all hands are busy.
The term amongst the crew is “hurry up and wait”, and I’ve heard it a handful of times so far. The thinking is, you’re either hurrying to build a stage, or you’re waiting.
As Brad’s 30th birthday approached, the Bluesfest weekend was both a celebration and a sendoff, with his parents joining him for the festivities. Images: Thomas Wielecki
An array of props are laid out amongst the instruments on the riser stage, from a ‘cock’ ornament to bubble machines, and there’s even pot plants. This is all part of Brad’s showmanship.
A hulking gentleman with a kind smile is checking over the instruments on the riser stage. His name is Taurean Thompson and he’s again evidence of Brad’s knack for collecting interesting and talented people.
“I actually met Brad through Thirsty Merc,” he tells me. “I toured with them as a roadie and tech for nine years. Anyway, Brad’s good mates with the guitarist, Matt Smith, so that’s how I got to know him.”
These days, Taurean helps Brad in between playing his own Chris Stapleton tribute shows. If you could see him, you’d understand why – he’s a dead ringer for the American country music star and we’re told he’s got the lungs to match.
I wander back over to the green rooms, again waving my AA pass with a sense of imposter syndrome. “You’re right mate, you don’t need to show me each time you come in,” the security guard says with a smile.
“Do people try to sneak in back here?” I ask, picturing crazed groupies flashing bogus laminated passes. “Oh, they do mate,” he says, shaking his head.
I could definitely see myself owning trucks, but I’d rather get given them for free! In all seriousness though, aside from carting our gear around, this truck has been awesome for promotion.
Brad sits with his parents, Lisa and Greg, and his wife, Sammy, in the green room – as calm as he was in the Mack yesterday.
“He’s got to be one of Jindabyne’s biggest exports?” I ask his parents. “Oh, not really,” Lisa says, clearly not one to inflate her son’s ego. “We’ve had Nicole Parks, who’s a freestyle skier – she went to the Olympics.” It’s clear, as she rattles off names, that none are as big as Brad.
“We’re not musical but we knew he had something,” Greg says, talking about how it all started for Brad. “He always had a bit of star power as a kid, so we got him music lessons and he just took to it.”
“He’s never been afraid to throw banter either,” Lisa points out. “I remember watching him play at pubs as a teenager, and he’d give it back to the audience!”
People begin to pile into the green room, starting with the band members. Then, Brad’s manager Nick Lynagh rolls in with his young son – who’s wearing a Pearl Jam shirt that gets everybody talking. “They’re his favourite band, but probably because they’re my favourite band,” Nick laughs.
Brad sits along the back wall of the green room with a mid-strength beer in hand, surrounded by the people he’s closest to. Part of the warm-up, it seems, is loosening up and having a laugh with family and friends.
The boys come out one by one to join him onstage, before breaking out into an energetic rendition of ‘Acres’, and Brad turns the dial to 11 as he dances and works the crowd. Images: Thomas Wielecki
“I was a bit dusty this morning,” Brad tells me, urging me to grab a beer from the esky. The rough wake up was apparently the result of watching the footy at the pub, followed by a few frozen margaritas at a Mexican restaurant afterwards.
Brad’s still the same joker he was yesterday. This isn’t his first rodeo. He’s also bucked any semblance of a hangover and you can see he’s ready, as he warms up with a larger-than-life presence.
I make myself sparse, with half-an-hour to go before his set. I don’t want to cramp his pre-show routine. Of course, I make sure Thomas is pitched up in the corner of the green room, camera in hand, so he can capture the scenes. Based on what he told me, things got pretty wild.
Back in the thick of it, with country singer Fanny Lumsden powering through a dynamic set, the energy in the crowd is electric. By the time I fight my way through the audience to the stage-side entry point, Brad and the band are warming up backstage.
Brad sits on his wheelable stage, positioned right behind the main curtain, and he bangs out a last-minute rehearsal. Meanwhile, Fanny steps from the stage onto a punter’s shoulders, sending the crowd into a screaming frenzy. It’s now impossible to hear Brad, but the focus in his eyes suggests he’s ready to put on one hell of a show.
He’s still in a worn workshirt with about 10 minutes to go, but there’s a loud button-up, dangly earring and pink sunglasses waiting for him. The reason for the party shirt and bling, he explains, is that a lot of his fans are cowboys and the lairish get-up makes them uncomfortable.
What’s not lost on me though, is that there are people who potentially missed a meal or a mortgage repayment to come see me play. That’s quite an honour but it’s also quite a responsibility.
“It freaks them out just a little bit,” he says with a half-smile. “But not enough to leave me. And I find that very amusing. You watch, Hunter will come out in a mesh singlet or something crazy, too.”
The crew are all eyes on Brad as he warms up, tweaking the equipment and making sure he sounds tip-top in the final minutes before he walks out. It’s truly a team effort and Brad is visibly thankful, acknowledging each of them with a nod or a wink.
Moments before Brad and the boys walk out, to a crowd that is now chanting and cheering in anticipation, it’s a quick pre-show ritual. While I won’t recite the toast – I can tell you it’s a cracker. Then it’s a few big gulps from beer cans and plastic cups filled with what looks like rum and coke, and the boys storm the stage.
It’s definitely a more country crowd than some of the earlier performances, evidenced by the blue jeans and cowboy hats in the distance, but it’s still a mixed bunch. It kicks off with a slow, solo start, as Brad plays ‘Silhouette’. The cheers die down as the audience sways along.
The boys come out one by one to join him onstage, before breaking out into an energetic rendition of ‘Acres’, and Brad turns the dial to 11 as he dances and works the crowd.
“It’s way better from down there,” Adam tells me, listening to the audio through an earpiece.
Brad’s lost more than 50kg across the past three years, and I have no doubt his performances are part of the secret. Images: Thomas Wielecki
He and I go down to the audio desk halfway along, and it gets even better. Brad’s belting out ‘What Brought You Back’, and the crowd’s going nuts; kids, dads, mums, all loving it.
Next up is his new single, ‘The Boxer’, so we stay down with the crowd to gauge their response to his powerful new sound. It’s the third time he’s played it live, and the crowd is clearly into it from the outset.
A song about life’s hard knocks, he kicks it off by asking the crowd: “Have you ever worked a job you didn’t love? Have you ever wanted to tell the boss to get fucked?”
Country music brings people together, but so does a rock anthem about telling your boss where to shove it. A sea of middle fingers are thrown sky-high, including Brad’s.
He’s moving like a man half his size as he swings, shakes and struts from one side of the stage to the other. He cuts sick at the end of ‘The Boxer’, and I’m glad because he told me he was going to wear his Apple Watch onstage this time to see how physically demanding his sets are.
Brad’s lost more than 50kg across the past three years, and I have no doubt his performances are part of the secret.
He’s massively underrated. That’s what we think, anyway!”
My personal favourite, ‘Remedy’, is a song Brad sings with guitarist Jesse O’Neill whenever they perform it live. This is proof again that Brad doesn’t hog the spotlight, lifting his fellow band mates up at every opportunity. He’s their biggest supporter, and they’re clearly his.
Watching with his crew, now side-stage, they appear to be as in awe as the audience, despite this being another day in the office. “He’s massively underrated,” his manager, Nick, tells me backstage, yelling over a drum solo. “That’s what we think, anyway!” I couldn’t agree more.
Brad makes sure to mention he’s country-adjacent towards the end of his set, which is a fitting teaser for his next album and couldn’t have fallen on more responsive ears as the diverse crowd screams and cheers in response – no doubt many of them new fans after tonight’s set.
Calling somebody ‘more real than fake’ might not sound like a compliment. But in this age of social media, it’s not easy to find someone – a celebrity no less – who’s bigger in person than their Instagram highlight reel suggests.
Brad’s as real as they come though, from the kit he wears, to the backstage banter, his stratospheric talent, and most importantly how much he cares about everyone around him.
We came for the Mack, but we left inspired by a man who embodies honest Aussie values. Brad told me he was a rockstar, not a role model, but I think it’s fair to say he’s both. You gained a lifelong fan in ROADBOSS tonight, Coxy.
