Droppin’ Science at the Enmore: A Celebration Cut Unforgivably Short

A Tuesday night in Newtown offers a particular kind of atmosphere, but the Enmore Theatre was humming with a restless, nostalgic energy. The date, March 3rd, carried a numerological weight for the devoted fan as it officially marked "De La Soul Day," the anniversary of the group's 1989 debut album, 3 Feet High and Rising. Inside, the Enmore's sloped floor channeled a spaciously arranged crowd toward the stage. It was a room heavily populated by Generation X, and as the evening stretched on, one could sense the collective fatigue of a demographic unaccustomed to such late weeknight outings.

I arrived at ten minutes to ten, just as the Washington, D.C., native Oddisee was wrapping up his set with his live band, Good Compny. (He had been preceded by Miss Kaninna, a young Yorta Yorta, Dja Dja Wurrung, Kalkadoon, and Yirendali artist who blends punk, neo-soul, and hip-hop.) Oddisee’s jazz-inflected boom-bap had the room pumping. A pocket of dedicated fans mouthed every word, while the rest maintained an appreciative, rhythmic head-bob.

Then came the wait. The transition between acts dragged as a swarm of technicians scuttled across the stage. Still, the room retained a surprising spirit, a collective hope kindled by the rare sight of a packed house late on a Tuesday. I wandered to the merchandise stand, only to find a disappointing array of hastily designed T-shirts that felt entirely like an afterthought.

Finally, at a shockingly late 10:15 P.M., De La Soul emerged. Posdnuos, the group's anchor, stepped out in a sartorially confusing ensemble of green shorts and a long-sleeved green shirt, an odd choice for the autumnal Sydney weather. But any questions about his wardrobe vanished the moment he engaged the room.

De La Soul does not simply request participation; they demand it. Posdnuos immediately set to work closing the gap between the stage and the crowd. He expressed a genuine thrill that fans could finally stream and purchase their newly accessible back catalogue, and he even leapt down into the audience to connect directly. In one particularly charming moment, he locked eyes with a young child wearing heavy noise-cancelling headphones, delighted to see the kid bouncing right along with the adults.

There was, however, a profound absence on the stage. Performing without David Jolicoeur (known as Trugoy the Dove, who passed away in 2023) is clearly a heavy burden. Yet Posdnuos and Maseo carried the torch, promising the audience they would continue the legacy, spit their truth, and keep making great hip-hop.

For a fleeting window, the magic was palpable. The group gave the classic tracks a lush, organic feel, and the sound mixing was pristine. Then, late into the set, the audio cracked. Someone at the soundboard pushed the volume far past its comfortable threshold, turning a beautifully balanced groove into a piercing wall of noise.

But the true betrayal of the evening was structural. Starting a headline act at a quarter past ten on a weeknight is a failure, especially in a venue that enforces a strict 11:00 P.M. curfew. The group pushed the boundary, playing until 11:07 P.M., but the set was painfully short. Fans were left bewildered and short-changed. While the fault likely lies with the tour promoters rather than the band, the truncated performance entirely overshadowed what should have been a triumphant celebration of a stellar back catalogue. It is ridiculous to ask an audience to pay full price or attend so late on a Tuesday evening for a fifty-minute set.

The delay and the unacceptable brevity left a bitter taste. It may take some convincing to get me back the next time De La Soul comes to town.

2/5