Dirty Three 
Barbican, London 
December 8th 2025

Being the contrary bunch that they are, Dirty Three’s gig in the eminently respectable surroundings of the Barbican kickstarted in suitably chaotic fashion.

As the lights dimmed, the mystical voice of Jim Morrison screamed out ‘Is everybody in? Let the ceremony begin!’ was followed up by the band shambling on stage to Boz Scaggs’ Lido Shuffle. Drummer Jim White and guitarist Mick Turner simply got in position, whereas extravagant and gregarious frontman Warren Evans – always the second most energetic person on stage when he’s playing with Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – danced, theatrically threw his suit jacket to the ground, pumped his arms in the air, and revealed a ludicrous Christmas jumper, which quickly came off too.

Thus, my puzzlement about how a gig by a relatively minimalist instrumental trio could last for an expected two and a half hours was answered. 

Despite the lack of a singer (and bass player), this was a gig of incredible variety, intensity, euphoria and occasionally gentle melancholy too. Without lyrics, it somehow encompassed every human emotion.

The set was dominated by music from last year’s album Love Changes Everything, the Melbourne group’s first in 12 years. From the first plaintive note of Ellis’s violin, it was a sensory onslaught.

Dirty Three are deceptively shambolic, with fragments of hummable choruses and catchy riffs occasionally poking through a squall of noise. They can be more closely compared to a jazz trio than an indie-rock outfit, although Ellis self-deprecatingly implied that this is all they were during one of his many monologues between numbers.

Their music catches you off-guard, touches a nerve, takes you into unexpected emotions, and often just knocks you sideways with its sheer force. Sometimes it’s beautifully simple, and other times utterly deranged – in a good way.

One of the highlights, which seemed spontaneous, was when Ellis led the audience in providing backing vocals. Even he looked surprised by how gorgeous it sounded. No words, but moving nonetheless.

The musicianship on show was impressive throughout. Jim White is an exceptional drummer, able to deviate from abstract flourishes to walloping rhythms and everything in between. Ellis, of course, was the most demonstrative, bent down, often with his back turned to the audience, his violin bowing sometimes dainty and other times like the movement of a man possessed. To break things up, he periodically howled like some kind of anguished animal and spat all over the stage with impressive projection.

The intensity of the music was leavened throughout by the stories, which, according to Ellis, some had found a bit too long on earlier gigs in this tour.

I enjoyed his anecdotes immensely. He is a genuinely hilarious raconteur. The best had definitely not been overly rehearsed because it related to him turning up at the wrong London venue during the day. He playfully mocked the roadie throughout, and when a man in the crowd got up to go to the toilet (which happened far more than I can remember from any other recent gig), he suggested that he get a drink from their rider to encourage others. Just before the last number, Ellis joked that, based on recent experience, it will probably be another ten years or so before they are back playing together in the UK. I hope they manage to reconvene before that.

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Words by Tom Parry, you can find his author’s archive here, plus on Twitter and his website

Photos by Robyn Skinner, see her Instagram