Smoke, Light, and Sonic Alchemy: Mk.gee at The Triffid
Mk.gee
The Triffid, Brisbane
Tuesday 3rd December 2024
Words: Lauren Tucker
Photos: Marty Kooistra
Tuesday nights in Brisbane aren't exactly known for much, aside maybe the odd Taco Tuesday deal and parmi deal at your local. But as the crowd files into The Triffid, they’re in for something extraordinary. Mk.gee’s audience here skews young—many looking like they’ve barely left high school. With no support act and doors opening at 7:30 pm for a 9 pm start, the venue is already packed by 8 pm, turning The Triffid's typical vibe into a buzzing, almost unrecognisable version of itself.
Before Mk.gee takes the stage, smoke engulfs the room, creating an atmosphere more fitting for a magician or a theatrical illusionist than a live musician. When he finally appears, flanked by two bandmates, they emerge as silhouettes in a dimly lit haze. A single spotlight behind Mk.gee casts him as a shadowy figure, beams of light cutting dramatically through the smoke and the tightly packed crowd. It’s a scene that feels otherworldly, as if he’s bending light and sound to conjure something almost supernatural.
From the very first note of 'ROCKMAN' struck on his guitar , it’s clear this isn’t just a room of casual listeners—it’s a congregation of diehard fans. Their devotion to Mk.gee is palpable, a collective energy that borders on reverence. As the distorted opening chords of the lo-fi bop ring out, the crowd erupts, throwing themselves heart and soul into singing every word in unison.
For the first two songs—‘ROCKMAN’ and ‘Dream Police’—Mk.gee remains a shadowy figure, backlit in a haze of smoke. It’s all part of the mystery, as the stage lights remain elusive, leaving official photographers in the pit scrambling to capture a clear shot of his face before the three-song rule is up. It’s not until the chorus of 'How Many Miles' that a spotlight from the front briefly illuminates him, perfectly timed to his impassioned question: “How many miles away?” The raw emotion in his delivery goes far beyond the album version, cutting straight through the crowd like a knife. In those fleeting moments of light, Mk.gee appears wholly unaffected by the need to impress. His hair is bedraggled, his face is chiselled, his form is thin. As the smoke machine continues to work overtime, the whole scene evokes an undeniable grunge aesthetic, a modern echo of the video for 'Smells Like Teen Spirit'. If not for the melodic dynamic in his voice, it would be easy to imagine we were witnessing the second coming of Kurt Cobain.
As the smoke begins to dissipate, Mk.gee and his bandmates gradually step into the light, revealing the intricate setup behind their signature sound. Layers of distortion and atmospheric effects come into sharper focus, underscoring the meticulous craftsmanship that defines Mk.gee’s music.
While the performance of MK.gee, or Michael Gordon as his Mum knows him, is nothing short of a revelation, the sound is dramatically elevated from that of his subtly transfixing debut album, Two Star & The Dream Police. The sound onstage, not so subtle. The light and shade, loud and soft, the screams and heavenly melodies indicate something of a deep understanding or education of music itself, like a tear ripping open to reveal an alternate universe of sorts. Beside Mk.gee stands a rack with keyboards, effects units and more pedals—he seemingly triggers guitar sounds, perhaps a little Andy Summers-esque but genuinely and impossibly original. He's aided by Zack Sekoff’s electronics as well as additional guitarist Andrew Aged, with a level of improvisation that while not forced, arrives like a distinctly controlled form of chaos. It feels impossible and natural all at once, which could be another way of saying it feels human in the best possible way.
As Mk.gee moves through a seamless setlist, marked by minimal chatter to the crowd and interludes which seemingly indicate he has a future in ambient music also, the performance is a continuous, immersive experience. Highlights include the thunderous 'Candy', the smouldering candlelight burn of 'Lonely Fight', and crowd-favourite 'I Want', each adding to the palpable sense that we’re witnessing the emergence of something extraordinary. It feels undeniable: this young artist possesses a unique quality that sets him apart in popular music. The crowd’s quiet reverence underscores their recognition of his distinctiveness. As Mk.gee carves out his own path, it’s clear he’s not just following in the footsteps of legends—he’s beginning to forge his own legacy.
At one point, I turned to my friend and said, “Prince would approve of Mk.gee.” I wasn’t entirely sure if his playing reminded me of Prince or if it was simply the boundary-pushing experimentation and originality that felt like a shared spirit between them. Either way, it was clear: Mk.gee embodies the kind of bold creativity that the Purple One would have admired.
I hadn’t heard about Mk.gee’s apparent penchant for playing the same song multiple times, so I was caught off guard when, after 'DNM' ignited the room into a wild dance-off, people around me began shouting, “PLAY IT AGAIN!” To my surprise, he obliged—not once, but twice—performing the song three times in total. Watching the crowd elevate into an ecstatic frenzy with each repetition was both fascinating and exhilarating. It called to mind the power of repetition as a device of mass manipulation, point and case, churches and cults alike.
This guy knows exactly what he’s doing. He masterfully uses dynamics to guide the willing crowd, and we’re all here for it. From the smoke-filled, white-light entrance to the strobe-lit, red-glow intensity of the middle, and back into the smoke at the end, every moment is meticulously crafted. His voice is a study in contrasts—sometimes soft and lullaby-like, other times screaming, piercing through the spell he’s created. Every element is purposeful, orchestrated to build a deeply immersive experience—an exquisitely well-thought-out piece of performance art.
By the end of the gig, the loudest song of the evening, 'Are You Looking Up?', has the crowd fully electrified. As Mk.gee moves into the encore, ‘Alesis’, he’s once again shrouded in smoke, backlit by white light, signalling that the show is drawing to a close.
Yet, the sense of wonder shared by the enraptured crowd doesn’t dissipate with the last heaving breath of the smoke machine. It lingers, something we all carry with us as we step back into the night, back to our regular lives, eagerly anticipating what Mk.gee will do next.
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