Dylan and the Observable Universe: The Debut Observation
Melbourne is not ready for Dylan and the Observable Universe.
In the Wesley Anne band room on Thursday evening, the band gave their debut performance, and made one hell of a first impression.
Following the delicate finger-stylings and unexpected and entirely enthralling melodies of opening act, Pia Nesvara; Dylan and the Observable Universe quietly take the stage, tuning last minute strings and adjusting levels, as the room around them falls silent.
Front-man and songwriter Dylan Knur strikes a delicate balance between genuine emotion, captivating storytelling, and a contagious energy in every number. While referring to himself as a ‘classical-violinist turned gentle-folk-singer,’ Knur by no means follows any of the predictable routes of the solo acoustic folk singer. With the help of drummer Caitlin Thomas, Liam Bell on bass and harmonies, and guitarist Paul Kascamanidis playing riffs so expertly delivered that they verge on providing a third vocal line, every song is brought to life with rousing energy and perfectly synchronised moments of explosive sound.
It feels like standing on the mountain
As you talk to me
About your mum, with your long hair
Shimmering
– ‘Picking up the Violin’
Knur prefaces the show with a disclaimer: this will be some of the most personal, honest and vulnerable work he has ever set before an audience. In large part the result of the introspection and self-discovery many found (or endured) during two years in Melbourne lockdowns, the night’s songs will hold nothing back. But first, the audience needs to know something important – Dylan is a liar.
Not the malicious, calculated kind – but the under pressure, avoiding hurting anyone’s feelings type of liar. Sure to resonate with all the people-pleasers in the room, the band launches into their second song of the evening, ‘Fraud’, a song exploring the disconnect between the words you think, and the ones you say aloud.
One of Knur’s unique talents is the ability to take his audience on the journey of extended, sometimes slightly rambling stories, that take a roundabout route to the point – but provide a depth of context that gives a whole new level of connection and understanding to his songs. A theme running quietly and consistently through the evening is one of self-acceptance, perfectly capturing the journey into adulthood and the process of allowing prior iterations of oneself exist, but only in the past where they belong.
Dylan captures this often messy area of self-discovery with an authenticity and grace that everyone present can relate to. Even if many of us never returned to the car in the early 2000s with a book on Greek mythology, a psychology textbook, and a complete guide to Microsoft Excel in our library bags – everyone in the room can connect to the idea that their childhood expectations of their future versus where they’ve ended up, generally aren’t the same thing.
Or, as Dylan neatly sums it up, “my seven-year-old self thinks I am a total failure.”
Tucked between these moments of often painfully honest vulnerability, are songs that for a moment seem out of place, but quickly show the depth of Knur’s songwriting ability, delving just as deep into the minds of fictional characters as he does his own. Through songs like ‘Discontent’, written from the perspective of a middle-aged divorcé, to a rousing folk murder ballad, the audience is able to catch their breath, a commercial break to enjoy the artistry, before returning to stories pulled straight from life.
One of Dylan’s most interesting talents as a songwriter is the stories he chooses to tell. From the introduction preceding each song, the audience might begin to make assumptions about what they’re going to hear, but in most cases Knur avoids the obvious path, making for far more compelling music. ‘Power’, a song written for a struggling friend, does not berate the world’s unfairness, but rather provides a safe place to come rest in. ‘Picking Up the Violin’ doesn’t reflect an artistic struggle or dreams of fame and success, but instead ties the feeling of picking up his violin to other wholesome, ‘coming home’ moments in life, or as Dylan puts it – “moments in my life that have made me feel like maybe God is real after all.”
Similarly, throughout every story sung, Dylan shows a unique skill for looking through an unexpected window, honing in on an unexpected detail. An old songwriting trope is ‘the more specific, the more universal,’ and Dylan leans heavily into this idea. The band’s closing song, ‘Heads to the Left,’ while covering broader ideas of connection and friendship, centres around a minute observation of human behaviour – that people always put their head on the left side in an embrace.
Heads to the left
Fall into my arms
– ‘Heads to the Left’
For the debut performance of Dylan and the Observable Universe, it seems fitting that the first and last words of the night are played and sung by Dylan alone, the band fading out and giving the final spotlight to the artist at the heart of the project. With hints of an official release soon to come, Melbourne should be waiting with bated breath for the return of Dylan and his Universe.
An absolutely magical night