Slowly Slowly's Triumphant Homecoming: A Raw, Radiant Roar from Melbourne’s Indie Darlings
Written by Sofia Perica
It was sweaty. It was loud. It was so tragically emo. Melbourne’s very own Slowly Slowly wrapped up their Forgiving Spree tour with a bang — and possibly the biggest show of their career — in a n arena performance that felt like both a celebration and a sweet goodbye. This was a band at its absolute peak: sonically tight, emotionally generous, and radiating pure joy.
Since their debut Chamomile dropped in 2016, Slowly Slowly have carved out a distinct space in Australia’s rock scene — a millennial emo revival with a twist of indie sincerity and punk polish. But if Forgiving Spree, their fifth studio album released on January 24th, taught us anything, it’s that this band isn’t slowing down.
Frontman Ben Stewart — the heart, soul, and heartbreak of the band — owned the night with a charisma that's both humble and magnetic. He’s got that Matty Healy-esque mystery, but with more grit and less pretence. Picture platform boots, majestic hair falling over his sweaty forehead, hips swaying in time with the bassline. He’s a looker, no doubt, but it’s the way he pours himself into the music — raw, unfiltered, yet somehow polished.
From the moment they launched into Creature of Habit Pt. 2, the crowd erupted in roaring approval. The song’s anthemic energy set the tone for a night that was big, emotional, and undeniably electric. Stewart’s vocals sliced through the arena like a well-loved heartbreak letter, while guitarist Albert Doan and bassist Alex Quayle filled the room with layered, melodic soundscapes. Patrick Murphy on drums kept it all grounded with unrelenting energy.
Tracks like Daisy Chain brought the emotional punch. It’s big and fun, yes — but underneath the catchy chorus lies a deep sadness that clutches at your heart when you least expect it. Meanwhile, All Time soaked the room in dreamy nostalgia, and Gimme The Wrench punched through with gritty vulnerability. It’s a setlist that feels like a diary entry from your 20s — triumphant emotional highs, hidden love letters, and all the mess in between.
In one particularly tender moment, the band dedicated a song to a pair of fans who fell in love at one of their shows. It was the kind of sincerity Slowly Slowly does best — bridging the emotional weight of their lyrics with real-life warmth and humour. Stewart’s between-song banter felt like catching up with an old friend — reflective, funny, and full of heart.
And then, of course, came the chaos. A shirtless man sprinted across the stage mid-chorus (as if summoned by the spirit of early 2000s emo-punk), and Stewart — like an energiser bunny on a sugar high — bounded across the stage, leaping onto platforms, letting the music course through his veins. It was dynamic, frenetic, and wholly captivating.
When they closed with Jellyfish, the entire arena was on its feet, arms in the air, voices hoarse from screaming every lyric. “It feels so good to be home,” Stewart said, eyes shining. And it did feel like home — the kind of gig where strangers become friends and every song feels like it was written just for you.
Slowly Slowly have proven themselves as one of Australia’s finest rock acts. This tour was a last hurrah, sure, but also a victory lap. Melbourne raised them, and now they’ve come back to show just how far they’ve come.