People give poor old Pete Murray far too much flak, especially considering what he does. Having often publicly admitted that he is perfectly content to record music that is easy-listening and pleasant (because he doesn’t have a problem with it), Murray has been slammed by pretty much every critic in the country for recording middle-of-the-road, pedestrian tunes that really do nothing to enhance Australia’s cultural landscape. If Murray is boring, Jack Johnson should be running and hiding. Want proof of his popularity? Look no further than the range of patrons at The Enmore – from kiddies to oldies – all bopping along contentedly to Pete’s band.

Note the last sentence, Pete’s band. Many balladeers decide that because they write cute little cuts, they have no need to bring a proper ensemble with them to the live show. Murray works on the opposite principle – if he has a great band in the studio, he’s got an awesome one blowing up the set tonight. And yes, it’s the same players. But Murray shows his understanding and musicianship by letting the group breathe; the drummer is all over the grooves and he and the bass player cook underneath while Pete strums up the front. These are session players of the highest calibre, and it’s really refreshing to actually hear these songs get some balls behind them.

Speaking of balls, it seems that Pete’s grown some himself. He never really seemed comfortable on stage in the other performances of his I’ve witnessed. With his own self-awakening and the success of Summer At Eureka, it appears that Murray has finally found his niche. Not too overdone, but thankfully not too weak either, Pete Murray has finally become a performer. He talks to his audience, he sings with strength and he puts on a damn good show. Detractors be damned, the country boy has transformed.