Cigarettes After Sex Live: A Study in Subtlety and Nuance at Brisbane Entertainment Centre

CIGARETTES AFTER SEX

BRISBANE ENTERTAINMENT CENTRE

MONDAY 17 MARCH 2025

Words and photos by Tara Dickinson

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For a band that dwells in detail and nuance, the concept of Cigarettes After Sex playing at the Brisbane Entertainment Centre is jarring. Their monochrome sophistication is lost in this sweaty warehouse bunker, surrounded by suburbs of SUV fetishists. But this performance is never going to be an unrestrained visual spectacle. CAS are a band that you feel, rather than ‘see’. This is evidenced by the volume of smoky haze already being pumped into the stadium, obscuring reality, a full half-hour before the band’s 8pm start. There is no support act. The stage takes on the quality of grainy film as the footlights beam into the shape of a giant cinematic screen, clearly delineating the band from the audience. A soundtrack of classical strings swirls, and each of the three band members emerges individually from the clouds of fog. Singer Greg Gonzalez slowly steps out last, wearing black sunglasses, in a self-conscious reverie. Is it an affectation, or is it the result of this being one of the last remaining dates of a stadium world tour that began mid-2024?

It’s not controversial to point out that CAS are formulaic… to the point of OCD. Every song features the same tightly controlled creamy vocals over a glacier-paced BPM, a pretty picture of restraint. That level of consistency, and exquisite attention to detail, makes it almost impossible to differentiate the current album Xs from the previous two LPs. ‘What separates one from the other?’ is usually a broad philosophical question. Except with CAS, the answer is simple: very little—on the surface. Played live, all iterations are familiar, repetitive, and yet, surprisingly fresh.

That’s the (whispered) secret to the show. The audience is sedated by the almost note-perfect rendering, so that even the slightest deviation becomes magnified and amplified into something more meaningful.

Tonight, we experience that in the ever-so-slight drag of Jacob Tomsky’s drum beat in ‘Falling In Love’. The upward bend of a single guitar note in the ‘Cry’ solo.

The first big singalong of the night comes with ‘Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby’. Until now, the mostly Gen Z crowd has been politely respectful and even… demure. It is certainly the first concert I attend where the seated sections remain seated.

Choreography and audience interaction are minimal. Gonzalez offers only a gentle tease during ‘Touch’ as he leans ever so slightly towards the front rows, enticing the audience to reach out to him, then leans back again. At times, his demeanour comes across as almost paternal. In contrast, Christian Celeya (filling in for Randy Miller) smiles and bounces lightly to his relatively uptempo basslines.

‘Sweet’ becomes a heartfelt reciprocal tribute, shared between the band and audience. Gonzalez looks visibly moved looking out at the stadium of torchlights glowing and swaying, reflecting the song’s sentiment back to him.

The dramatic crescendo of ‘Dreaming of You’ hints at an expansive instrumental exterior to the band, an aspect usually sidelined in favour of close introspection. The song evolves into a deep, rolling, thundering jam, hinting at a sustained power that never threatens to boil over into rawness. The almost majestic force would be an interesting tangent for future releases.

Finally, the chiming guitar signals the start of the shimmering euphoria of ‘Apocalypse’, replete with glittering lights.

Live, there is a surprising dynamism to the three-piece. Extensive touring over the past few years has developed the band’s musical gravitas, preventing them from sounding as one-dimensional as their cultivated image may suggest.

I wish I could completely surrender to the CAS noir mystique. For me personally, underlying the seduction there’s a minor sense of unease, despite the sweet nostalgic vibe. The lyrics sometimes slip into softboi gaucheness, and it may be that authenticity which resonates with their huge Gen Z fan base. Fair enough. But it could be argued that one or two more provocative lines lean toward misogyny, whether fabricated or true, intentionally or not. Adding some edge to a soft sound, using narrative as a device, has been used by many artists for decades. (Eminem’s ‘Stan’, featuring Dido, is one such example, played tonight in the band intro, released before many of the crowd here were even born.) As it stands, it is this ambiguity that prevents me from fully reconciling the CAS fantasy with my reality.

At the end of tonight’s show, Gonzalez gets down on his hands and knees, eye to eye, level with the audience. It’s his turn to reach out to fans; pointing to specific individuals, he presses guitar picks personally into their grasping hands. He bestows one lucky fan with the handwritten setlist. On such a grand stage, it’s a subtle reminder of how it’s the small, intimate moments that mean the most.