Dan Sultan knows how to throw a launch party. After a bumper couple of years kicking out stellar performances and show-stealing guest spots, Dan and co-conspirator Scott Wilson have finally pricked the ears of the greater public and deliver their new (and second full-length) record, Get Out While You Can, to an excited crowd in The Espy’s Gershwin Room. Of course, they don’t do it alone. As well as inviting DJs Ken Eavel and Big Bank Hank to mix pumping classics and favourite dance beats in between onstage sets, Dan and the crew have great support on hand.

The Level Spirits kick off the night in scorching fashion bringing a good dose of rocking heat to a saturated and chilly Melbourne night. It’s rock’n’roll as it was originally intended; not rock’n’roll like you hear on Triple M. Real rock’n’roll: as when the lines between rockabilly, country and rock were still blurry.

With thumping double bass, drums and guitar, The Level Spirits present a rock goddess front woman who could have been – had she have been born thirty years earlier – Wanda Jackson. You know, with hip-rolls as deep, sultry and well-developed as her husky voice. The Level Spirits give the impression that they could go off the rails at any moment but it’s just an act. Or rather, a feeling. They’re sooo tight – every leg kick, cymbal crash and booty shake atop a solid groove. Fantastic.

Daddy Cool veteran Ross Hannaford’s Reggae Rock are up next, a treat for people who enjoy watching skilful musicians working together. In no time they’re firing off a sprawling rock tune; it’s got the reggae vein but more lush blood running through it. Not as concerned with lyrics as with vocal embellishments on this one and musicianship is the winner on the day. Nothing makes me smile like really good musicians hitting a stride together onstage and grinning each other when the groove is met, the individual parts align and the dynamic is sparking.

Rockwiz Orchestra’s James Black sits in George Butrumlis’ usual place on keys keeping the bassist up to speed with an occasional fingerpoint to the music chart on top of his keyboard. (A special mention must be made to Pete Marin who plays a kicking set for Ross on drums, and then carries on to play for Dan as well. I suppose he does get to spend the whole time sitting on his arse, but still…)

Ross promised a bit of jazz and this quartet deliver, inducing a hybrid of it, rock and reggae before launching into a more – œoompah’ sounding keys and bass groove for which Marin keeps quality time and over which Ross smooths his rich baritone. He growls into his mic, – œI can hear that rocksteady train coming. Down The Esplanade, up the front steps, here it comes now…’ and so it does.

They journey on with it, Black providing a lightness of step with keys. A Hannaford solo drags them all over to the darkside for a minute, coming together with a heavy 70s theme, which they all get to embellish. It’s a little bit epic and pretty airtight, which brings a laugh when Ross murmurs that it was, – œjust something we’re working on.’ A reggae-infused cover of Tequila wraps things up – or endeavours to before the whole exercise morphs into a slow jam with both guitarists extracting some supernatural noises from their frets and Black and Marin keeping the beat, in their own time, naturally.

Then the lights go down. A bit of smoke wafts in from side of stage and you know what they say when there’s smoke. Scott Wilson and Dan Sultan venture onstage, the first in an embroidered cowboy shirt, the second looking dapper in suit, shirt and skinny-tie, with Dan quietly thanking everyone for making it along to the show. They ease in slowly with the title track from new album, Get Out While You Can – Scott accompanying Dan’s sweet, rough and powerful voice on acoustic guitar – an ode to escaping small towns (classic line for my commitment-phobic ears: “wedding rings are broken wings”).

The second song for the night is also the second song from the record: Sorrowbound – a plaintive, almost anti-love song – picks up the tempo a smidge and as the trajectory for the set is established Scott and Dan’s onstage banter gives us a front row idea of how they compliment each other in their songwriting. As the lights finally draw a little sweat from Dan’s brow, he ditches the suit jacket and picks up an electric guitar. Scott tells us, – œI told him he’d be hot.’ Dan cracks, – œI thought he meant the other way.’

By now the entire big band is behind them: we end up with four guitarists, keyboards, drums, the horn section and, intermittently, a couple of lovely ladies – in requisite black – on back up vocals. Dingo – a track in ode to the junkie who stole Scott’s guitar and swapped it for drugs – is an upbeat, straight-out, country gallop and the opening bass line for Crazy so reminds me of Paul Kelly’s Darling It Hurts that I immediately like it. It heralds the horns, injecting the soul flavour I love from this band. Scott takes up table steel guitar, Dan an acoustic for Come Home Tonight a slow waltz that should have been a duet with Ella Hooper, who unfortunately is a bit under the weather tonight. He guides his backup singers through their parts though, and for now, we don’t mind so much that Ella is absent. A terrific ukelele solo lends a tropic vibe to this otherwise heart-sad topic.

Another new track, Old Fitzroy, Dan explains, is a tune about an extremely talented bloke who continually – œfucks everything up.’ – œAutobiographical?’ asks Scott. – œDunno mate,’ shoots back Dan, – œYou wrote it.’ It’s a quick foray into rockier, country ground before a beautiful execution of the much slower, but no less powerful Never Let You Down.

After the faux encore (walk off, walk straight back on) Dan’s finally ripped the tie off and leads the band, Scott and the entire crowd into a rousing rendition of Kev Carmody and Paul Kelly’s This Land Is Mine before getting loose (in the most watertight way) on Fool (from debut Homemade Biscuits ). The soul crescendo is well and truly upon us. Your Love Is Like A Song is totally rocking: a soul celebration that only slows slightly – Dan keeps his own personal tempo up, jogging on the spot, shirt open – as he blasts, – œThat’s where I make my connection!’ It’s probably seeing a moment like that this that prompted Claire Bowditch to brand him as our – œblack Elvis.’ He’s got all the moves.

Cadillac and a Mustang further defines his handle on soul. Horns swing from side to side in unison, as do the black-clad hips of the sassy ladies on backing vocals; guitarists take on the pained expression of the fire-y conduits that they are, Gina Woods’ blonde head nods in time to her shoulders behind the organ, and out front the man of the hour is throwing elbows, windmills, shaking imaginary tambourines and literally running on the spot. Cheeks puff in and out trying to bring in as much air as is necessary to maintain such amazing voice. The controlled hair of earlier has sprung from its confines to streak his brow and the show stopper – Money – stretches out into pure old school beauty that brings individual solos and a roaring Dan Sultan into an explosive soul climax.

The classic shows of James Brown and Elvis Presley come to mind and, while it should be pretty clear that I’m biased, you gotta pull out the big names when you’re talking about Dan Sultan. A fantastic set list and a clear consideration for the audience produce a tremendous show and provide confirmation that Dan’s star is well and truly rising.

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