A sold-out Fremantle Arts Centre show has its own climate.
Grass underfoot. Salt in the air. Somebody’s vape cloud. Everyone guarding their chosen patch of lawn like they’ve signed a lease on it. Quiet little calculations happening behind the eyes. Can I get water now, or will I never get back here? Can my knees be trusted? How late can I leave the toilet run before it becomes a spiritual crisis?
That was the scene before G Flip even walked on.
This was the last show of the Dream Ride Tour. The actual final one, out of over 50 dates. The ending. That does something to a crowd. It makes people arrive already half-open.
G Flip came out grinning and told us they’d been all around the world and were ending the tour here. Perth crowds act breezy as a hobby, but tell us we’ve got the final page, and suddenly everybody’s carrying an invisible Victorian handkerchief.
The house rules were excellent and, frankly, should be adopted more widely
Before the show really took off, G Flip laid out the rules.
First: “you’re not allowed to be a dickhead.”
Beautiful. Clean. Universal.
Then the rest. Respect the people around you. This is a room where the LGBTQIA+ community is loved. Whoever you’re kissing, whoever you’re sleeping with, love is love, do your thing.
Then G Flip spoke openly about anxiety and depression, thanked people for showing up, and shouted out anyone who had come by themselves because they didn’t want to miss the show. For some people, myself included, getting through the gate is a big task. Having that acknowledged is a balm.
They also covered safety. If anyone goes down in the crowd, get your phone lights up so the show can stop and medical can get in.
Then came the final instruction. If you know the words, scream them. Get a little unhinged. Be yourself. Have some fun.
Good rules. Good room.
“You’re not allowed to be a dickhead.”
Fremantle Arts Centre understands that people have joints
FAC is one of Perth’s better venues because it doesn’t trap you.
You can get close if you want the full-body, no-thoughts version of a gig. You can drift back if your sensory settings are cooking. You can step away, breathe, stretch, come back, and still feel joined to the show rather than exiled from it.
That counts for a lot if you’re neurodivergent. If you’re disabled. If your body is sometimes a bit theatrical about standing on grass for several hours. And because it’s outside, the whole thing feels less like you’re marinating in thousands of people’s body heat under a giant roof.
The crowd helped too. Very queer. Very les. Very “nice Docs, babe” in the queue.
Ayesha Madon opened with pop shine
Ayesha Madon was first up, and there was bright, glossy pop all over it, but enough snap underneath for people to actually pay attention.
Her band was part of that. Especially bassist Sarah Homeh, who wasn’t standing there doing the thankless work of Being Musically Competent While Hot. She was part of the theatre of it, which is why we got a moment that gave me a good giggle.
Ayesha leaned in full force, singing with her foot planted on Sarah’s knee like she was starring in a tiny one-act arena melodrama. Sarah committed so hard to the bit she wound up on the floor, and Ayesha instantly hit her with:
“Get off the floor, bitch.”
Perfect.
Ayesha has also spoken publicly about being diagnosed with ADHD and realising she’s neurodivergent. There’s something familiar in the way she moves through a set if you know that flavour of brain. Quick switches. Big expression. No visible interest in ironing herself flatter so other people feel less weird about watching her.
The Beaches came on like the party had already started without us
The Beaches hit the stage, and you could immediately see we were in for some fun. They opened with ‘Last Girls at the Party’, and the whole place stopped hovering.
Jordan Miller was tearing around in sparkly hot pants and thigh-highs like she’d been specifically sent to make Fremantle sweat. Then somebody launched a Bunnings hat at her. She rocked it. Perth crowds love attaching local artefacts to visiting musicians like we’re tagging wildlife.
And then came the Perth-specific nonsense, which I mean lovingly.
Airport drama. Rottnest that day. Quokkas. A couple of Coopers on the beach. ‘Shower Beer’ dedicated to the quokkas, which is one of those sentences that sounds false when you say it later, but was absolutely real in the moment.
They asked if there were any single folks in the crowd, which got the exact response you’d expect from a sold-out queer field in Fremantle. Half scream, half “absolutely do not perceive me.”
Then, the exceptionally cool guitarist Leandra Earl declared Perth has the most lesbians.
As a fellow lesbian, I accept this civic honour. Thank you, thank you.
Later, G Flip kept calling them the biggest band in the world and “calling it,” which sounded like someone standing close enough to the thing to recognise it early, and that kind of mutual love and hype is a joy to witness.
‘Disco Cowgirl’ started, and everybody’s knees logged back in
‘Disco Cowgirl’ as an opener is rude in the best way. One beat, and the whole crowd remembered what they came for.
The Dream Ride production looked gorgeous, too. Neon pink everywhere. Big-screen visuals. A pink drum kit that looked like it had developed sentience, with funky screens on the bass drums. One of the smartest choices of the whole show was putting lyrics on the screen through parts of the set. Massive payoff. Suddenly, nobody has to stand there pretending they know more words than they do.
‘GAY 4 ME’ and the giant Pride flag told the truth quickly
Then came ‘GAY 4 ME’, and the huge Progress Pride flag.
This is where the whole evening clicked into focus. Queer. Warm. Protective. A place where people could actually take up space instead of performing a smaller version of themselves.
That sat perfectly beside the house rules from earlier. Don’t be a dickhead. Love queer people loudly. Look after each other. Get weird.
Simple. Effective. Extremely my shit.
G Flip kept switching instruments like they were collecting side quests
At a certain point, G Flip stopped feeling like one performer and started feeling like several very committed musicians taking turns in the same body.
‘I Don’t Wanna Regret’ brought out the saxophone and gave the whole set more swagger. It just widened the thing.
Then ‘Big Ol’ Hammer’ arrived in full camp mode, and the whole place yelling “You make me feel like a M.A.N!” back at the stage felt like being trapped inside the world’s most specific queer karaoke cult.
And then the drums.
This is the part where the G Flip live reputation makes immediate sense. ‘Good Enough’ behind the kit, then a full percussion pile-on with extra players joining in, and suddenly the stage looked like everybody had been given permission to hit things at once. It was loud in the ribs and the heart.
Then they followed that with ‘Rough’, which was filthy scheduling.
‘Cruel Summer’ and the older songs both sounded alive
The Taylor Swift ‘Cruel Summer’ cover still works because G Flip doesn’t play it like a novelty wink. It becomes a giant communal scream. Outdoors, with all that sky above us, it felt even bigger.
And the older songs were treated with the same respect. They got folded into medleys, pushed through the current live machinery, and made to keep up.
The soft middle bit got everybody in the throat
Mid-set, things got sentimental.
Acoustic guitar. Old footage on the screen. Big feelings. The sort of stretch where, at a lesser show, people start chatting or checking out. Nobody checked out.
G Flip admitted they were struggling to hold it together, and then the tears fell. They talked about gratitude, about not taking any of this for granted, about how much it means when people show up. Then came ‘Australia’, acoustic, with Perth called their favourite place in the world.
‘LEZ GO!’ was the beach-party button
Then the show did the exact right thing and threw the doors back open.
‘LEZ GO!’ started. The Beaches came back out. Beach balls appeared. A t-shirt slingshot started firing merch into the crowd like we were at the world’s gayest school fete.
This was also the point when G Flip looked like they were actually having fun, which is different from performer fun. The crowd always knows the difference.
The ending behaved like an ending
‘Bed on Fire’ shoved the show toward the edge, and then the encore came in exactly how it should.
Back behind the kit for ‘The Worst Person Alive’. Then ‘In Another Life’ to finish.
That final song always does damage, but on the last night of the tour, outside in Fremantle, it had extra gravity. People hugged. People looked at the sky for a second, like they needed to restart their operating system before heading home.
That’s a finale. What a way to send it.
Practical Perth Note
- FAC is one of Perth’s better venues if you need room to pace yourself without losing the show.
- Bring earplugs. Drums plus crowd sing-alongs are a lot.
- Wear shoes that respect your arches.
- Have an exit plan. Fremantle rideshare quickly becomes a community project after a sold-out show.
Accessibility Snapshot
Accessibility Snapshot (Updated: 15 March 2026)
| Category | Feature | Options | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|
| Mobility | Wheelchair Access | Confirmed | All WFAC concerts are wheelchair accessible. |
| Mobility | ACROD Parking | Confirmed | Two ACROD bays are located on Finnerty Street. |
| Mobility | Drop-off / Pick-Up | Confirmed | Drop-off and pick-up is available at the main entry gate. |
| Viewing | Elevated Wheelchair Viewing Area | Confirmed | An elevated wheelchair viewing area is available on the second tier with clear sightlines. |
| Support | Staff / Security Assistance | Confirmed | Staff and security can assist with access as needed. |
| Ticketing | Companion Card | Confirmed | Companion Cards are recognised at the gate with a valid ticket for the concert-goer. Companion tickets can also be requested in advance via Oztix Customer Support. |
| Mobility | Limited Onsite Seating | Confirmed | Limited seating can be provided onsite for those who may require it. Venue staff can assist. |
| Sensory | Outdoor Venue | Confirmed | The South Lawn is outdoors, which can help with airflow and stepping back from the densest parts of the crowd. Evenings can get cooler, and the venue operates rain or shine. |
| Sensory | Step-Back Space | Reported | From my experience, FAC is one of the better Perth venues for pacing and taking a quick reset without losing the whole show. |
| Transport | Traffic Management | Confirmed | For South Lawn concerts, Finnerty Street between Ord Street and Skinner Street is temporarily closed to traffic from 5:30 pm to 11 pm for safer pedestrian entry and exit. |
Accessibility experiences can vary from show to show and person to person. If you attended and your experience was different, better or worse, we’d genuinely love to hear it.
TLDR;
- G Flip ended the Dream Ride Tour in Perth, and the whole night carried proper final-show energy.
- The house rules were immaculate. Don’t be a dickhead, love the LGBTQIA+ community, look after each other, get a little unhinged.
- Ayesha Madon opened strong and gave us “get off the floor, bitch,” which is going to be my internal vocal stim for a bit.
- The Beaches brought the fun, a Bunnings hat, quokka banter, Coopers, ‘Shower Beer’, and a very convincing claim about Perth lesbians.
- G Flip’s set had sax, multi-kit drum chaos, a giant Pride flag, smartly folded-in older material, and one-song ‘LEZ GO!’ mayhem with beach balls and a t-shirt slingshot.
- The encore closed with ‘In Another Life’, and yes, it wrecked people a bit.
Stay unruly.
