easy life – 26 August, 2022 @ The Night Cat, Melbourne VIC

easy life
The Night Cat, Melbourne VIC
August 26th 2022

There’s something about The Night Cat that makes time slow down. Maybe it’s the way the stage sits in the centre of the room, or how the lights spill across faces instead of blinding them. Whatever it is, it feels more like being invited into a secret than watching a show. And on this particular Friday, the small, circular stage glowed soft and honey-yellow, light spilling across a crowd that felt less like an audience and more like a living, breathing extension of the band. It was intimate, humid — the kind of setting that turns songs into shared secrets.

Then Easy Life walked out, grinning like they’d just stepped into their own daydream. The crowd cheered, the air shifted, and suddenly the secret had a soundtrack. They opened with pockets, that lazy groove sliding effortlessly into have a great day. From the start, it was all rhythm and warmth. Murray Matravers leaned into the mic with that half-smile of his, the band grinning behind him as if they couldn’t believe how loud this little room could get. There was no distance between stage and floor — everyone was moving together, heads nodding, voices rising.

Sunday and daydreams rolled out like the soundtrack to some endless summer. The horns shimmered, the bass thick and playful, the lyrics half-sung, half-laughed. Between songs, Murray chatted to the crowd about the flight over, about Melbourne coffee, about how strange it still felt to be playing live again. It was easy, offhand, like he was talking to a mate rather than a sold-out room.

By the time Frank and peanut butter hit, the place had turned into one long groove. The band’s chemistry was obvious — loose but locked in, sharp where it mattered and soft everywhere else. When sangria dropped, people threw their arms around each other, the chorus spilling out like a collective sigh.

Beeswax and OJPL brought the energy up again, the crowd bouncing in place, sweat starting to run down the walls. The Night Cat is built for this kind of gig — close enough that every synth hit feels like a heartbeat, every lyric like it’s aimed straight at you.

Then came skeletons and OTT, both bigger than the room but somehow perfectly at home in it. The sound was lush, every layer folding into the next, that signature Easy Life melancholy wrapped in sunshine.

Dead Celebs and Dear Miss Holloway landed like quiet confessions. Murray’s voice softened, almost breaking in places, the crowd leaning in to catch every word. It was one of those rare moments where the noise drops and everyone remembers they’re part of something fragile and fleeting.

They closed with Ocean View and Nightmares, a perfect pairing — dreamy, bittersweet, and quietly euphoric. The brass swelled, the synths shimmered, and the last notes hung in the air long after the lights came up.

Easy Life didn’t just play a gig that night. They built a world for an hour and let everyone live inside it. Small stage, big feeling, and a reminder that sometimes the best shows aren’t about spectacle. They’re about closeness, warmth, and songs that feel like home.