Jimmy Barnes [Hunter Valley]

Bimbadgen Estate, Hunter Valley
06 December 2025

Jimmy Barnes | Icehouse | Ian Moss

Reviewer and Photographer : Kevin Bull

On an afternoon when Australia baked under a fierce early-summer sun, the Hunter Valley’s Bimbadgen Estate felt like the nation’s outdoor oven – its thermometer stuck firmly on “roast.” With bushfires threatening homes in Kooliwong on the Central Coast, and flaring in Newcastle around Redhead, the crowd arriving for Jimmy Barnes’ Working Class Man 40th Anniversary Tour carried both the weight of the heat and a clear sense that live music was exactly the tonic needed. The venue was packed, all buzzing beneath a sky that couldn’t decide whether to boil us or drown us. We missed openers John Rooney, arriving midway through Kate Ceberano’s set, but the anticipation for a huge lineup was already humming.

Kate Ceberano – Australia’s queen of pop (though Marcia Hines may arm-wrestle her for the crown) – was in full flight when we found our patch of scorched grass. Her set was a wildly entertaining jukebox run through her own hits and a loving tribute to Australian classics. ‘Pash’ landed like a cool breeze, instantly lifting spirits. With Darren Hart (Harts) on guitar – shredding with the kind of joyful precision that makes you forget how hot your feet are – Kate rolled through a Great Australian Rock Songbook-style sequence, paying homage to Mental As Anything before closing with The Saints’ blistering ‘Know Your Product.’ It was vibrant, loose, and delightfully alive.

Ian Moss followed, strolling on with silver-painted fingernails and the casual confidence of a man who knows he’s carrying world-class tone in his pocket. He opened ‘Telephone Booth’ with a playful ‘Start Me Up’ tease, grinning as the crowd clocked it. Mossy’s dry humour surfaced as he poked fun at Narrabri: “Anyone been there? Anyone go back?” – a joke that slung neatly into ‘Tucker’s Daughter.’ The slow-burn blues of ‘Georgia on My Mind’ was a masterclass in restraint, but it was the closing Cold Chisel triptych—‘My Baby,’ ‘Choir Girl,’ and a triumphant ‘Bow River’ – that reminded everyone why the man is a national treasure. His voice remains astonishingly pure; his guitar playing, surgical and soulful.

Icehouse carried the afternoon into early evening, opening with a sharp, shimmering ‘Electric Blue.’ Iva Davies still commands with quiet intensity, and the band’s catalogue remains one of Australia’s most durable. The performance was tight, elegant, and effortlessly nostalgic. Hugo Lee on sax came dangerously close to stealing the spotlight – his solos were molten. ‘Great Southern Land’ shook the valley with its deep synth pulse, still a cultural lightning bolt more than 40 years on. The band closed with two cuts from Flowers’ 1980 debut – ‘Can’t Help Myself’ and ‘We Can Get Together’ – a perfect, neon-lit nod to their origins.

Then the clouds that had been bluffing for half an hour finally folded. Minutes before Jimmy Barnes was due, the heavens opened in a fierce, vertical-wind downpour that sent thousands scrambling, laughing, squealing, and swearing. It was torrential and communal – one of those weirdly morale-boosting shared sufferings. Ten minutes later, as quickly as it arrived, the heat from the earth began drying everything around us. Spirits were higher than ever. We were soaked. We were exhilarated. And Jimmy was imminent.

Jimmy Barnes hit the stage with the force of a man half his age, backed by a 10-piece band that included both Doley brothers – Clayton and Lachy – on duelling keyboards, and wife Jane supplying powerhouse vocals (and later, bagpipes). Jimmy roared through ‘Driving Wheel,’ sending the crowd surging to its feet. ‘Boys Cry Out for War’ arrived ferocious and timely, Jimmy proving he still possesses one of the greatest rock screams in the business. The emotional peak came with ‘Flame Trees,’ lifting the entire estate; two bare-chested twenty-year-olds in front of us sang every word back to Jimmy as if auditioning for a national anthem rewrite. Rain briefly returned for ‘Working Class Man,’ somehow revving the crowd even further – as if the song itself summoned the weather. He closed the set with a fiery ‘Defiant,’ before returning for an encore that opened with duelling Doley keys. ‘Khe Sanh’ began with just Clayton’s keys and Jimmy’s voice – an intimate moment in front of thousands.

In a day marked by heat, fire, wind, and water, Jimmy Barnes and friends delivered a cathartic, communal celebration of Australian music. From Kate’s sparkle to Mossy’s finesse, from Icehouse’s elegance to Jimmy’s volcanic roar, the day delivered hellish weather, and heavenly performances. It was a scorched, soaked, joy-filled triumph.

As the bloke next to me confided, “I didn’t know I’d get that wet over Jimmy!”, to which my partner just had to agree, “I did.”