Julian Lage – Melbourne Recital Centre, Sunday September 13, 2026
Reviewed by Steve Hoy.
Whilst I thought Julian Lage’s evening concert in support of the tenth anniversary of his album World’s Fairwould be a Federated Fret Watchers meeting – almost confirmed as I was seated next to classical guitar maestro Slava Grigoryan – the audience was considerably more diverse. There were solo attendees like Slava and me, couples of various ages, backgrounds and ethnicities, and groups of friends, like the guys I met after the show walking across Princes Bridge, discussing what they’d just witnessed.
Lage has breathtaking technical facility, deep harmonic understanding and a mischievous humour channelled through the tonal richness of his 000 Collings guitar. One bloke, one guitar, one microphone*, one chair. He explores his songs and adds new possibilities on the fly, teases them out and does it again, but each extrapolation is a fresh moment that might just as easily crash as soar. However, Lage’s facility breeds confidence rather than cleverness. It’s not showy but exploratory. Still, while not being showy, there were many simply jaw droppingly entertaining moments but again, these flights led to further musical interest.
In interviews Lage speaks lovingly of the sonorities inherent in particular instruments. World’s Fair is played on a 1939 Martin 000 18, its parched fragility contributing to the richness of the twelve solo pieces. Tonight, Lage takes the songs from this collection, cradles his Collings and rediscovers them, weaving new passages into the existing beauty. The album’s introductory pieces 40s and Peru also open this concert and provide a sort of template for much of the evening: delicate passages within strong songs played with assurance and fluidity often leading to powerful chordal conclusions.
As the MRC blurb suggested Lage “finds connection points between classical music and the American folk tradition”, but that doesn’t allow for the passion and artistry inherent in his performance. He brought touches of bluegrass, older jazz and blues styles to beautifully improvise genre free fun. He also introduced some new pieces and included a mesmerising meditation on My Funny Valentine.
That so much colour and character could be wrought from one instrument was delightful and instructive, although I’m not planning a guitar sell off too soon. At one point when an audience member’s empty bottle audibly rolled down the floor Lage just laughed, the silliness of the interruption shared but not allowing he or us to lose the moment. He simply restated the passage where he was in the piece and continued. No prickly seriousness here. And of course this further endeared him to us.
As we left the auditorium there was a sense of having been part of a series of shared, wonderful moments via a musician at the top of his game. Friends had suggested solo acoustic guitar for an hour and a half might become abstract and academic. Well one and a half hours skipped by in attentive wonder. Julian Lage is a phenomenal musician whose virtuosity is completely in service to his songs.