Dan Sultan

"I don't think my vajootz will ever recover from that.” If Dan Sultan was blissfully unaware that he had joined the illustrious Sexy Musicians Named Dan Club (Luscombe and Kelly duel it out for CEO and CFO), his sold-out Sunday evening show confirmed it in vociferous style.

Whether it was the above quote (delivered by a tired and emotional punter exiting the Corner), the repeated plaintive braying requesting Sultan's love between songs, or just the moment during the breakdown of triple j hit 'Letter' when one poor soul screamed out in orgasmic glee as Sultan's final shirt buttons came undone (he looked momentarily bewildered but soldiered on), one thing's clear: his brooding good looks haven't gone unnoticed.

Whether all this veneration is also a good thing for Sultan's long-term ambitions remains decidedly less certain. His star is undoubtedly on the rise on the back of triple j support, his participation in The Black Arm Band, a superb Rockwiz performance with Ella Hooper and his role in the film Bran Nue Dae. But his 2009 record, Get Out While You Can, and this performance, merely serve to emphasise that he's still a work in progress.

It's immediately apparent in the opening few songs. If it's nerves, a hangover, or just a poor start, both 'I Like It' and 'Goddess Love' lumber forward, encumbered by a low, guttural vocal performance. Sultan's voice has always been the focus, able to lift even the most pedestrian songs to greater heights. Here, both tracks – highlights from Get Out – are stripped of any emotion and delivered with faces exhibiting tight concentration. If it all sounds like treading water, it feels like it too.

The show lifts immeasurably when Sultan does: in the midst of third song 'Walk Through My Dreams', he begins to spit out words with the demonic fervour that, at its best, mixes the emotional eructations of Bobby Bland or Otis Redding with the bawdy drunken carousing of early Rod Stewart. 'Fear of Flying' is a punchy stomp to the point of perfection, while 'Crazy' is less the breathless tale of murder than it is on record and more of a dirty romp,

Sultan is blessed with being an extremely agreeable performer. He's physical, thrusting and gesticulating to the audience, good humoured and has a completely goofy, totally unaffected laugh that can't help but draw a smile. As on record, guitarist Scott Wilson is a solid foil for Sultan, backing him amiably; the bone-thin conductor of the show. Contrastingly, the support band (comprising a horn section and female backing singer stepping in for Ella Hooper's role on CD) are correct without being exhilarating. Wilson refers to them as a “mug shot” and they play with that absence of enthusiasm.

But the overall feeling from Wilson and the band is one of complete competence, rather than exhilaration. The worst offender in this regard is Wilson, sole songwriter or co-writer on most of the songs, who almost doesn't seem to realise the opportunity he has in his hands. He needs to be more Ronnie Wood with Rod Stewart, less Ronnie with later-period Rolling Stones. When his songwriting and playing provide an adequate match to duel against Sultan's energetic persona, they'll really be onto something.

The real highlights tonight are a triumvirate of tracks: 'Old Fitzroy', 'Never Let You Down' and 'This Land Is Mine', the Kev Carmody song Sultan has almost made his own,. In each, Sultan strikes the kind of disarming balance between swooning, keening vulnerability and furious, demented love that is the impetus for so much of the best soul-rock music. 'Letter', the hit, is everything you expect: three minutes plus of propulsively brash and sexual soul. It's 'This Land is Mine' that throws some of the crowd into stupefaction, partly because it's material many of them aren't familiar with, mainly because it's a performance of extraordinary despair and rage. Here, you can search for superlatives and still come up short.

Despite a shonky start, it's a ultimately a very memorable show. But for Sultan the destination is important. Almost all the signs tonight suggest he's well on the way into that journey.

by JP Hammond