Banana Farm Step Out Of The Studio For An Intimate Performance At Lazy Thinking

A new painting witnessed by streams of eyes in an art gallery; a poem read aloud to a close
friend; a song laboured over in a studio, then allowed to breathe before an audience for the
first time: when a fresh piece of art is provided the opportunity to be perceived, it is given a
heartbeat.

Therefore, it is always exciting to witness art in its freshest form – still steaming. As was the
case on July 29, when Sydney experimental folk band Banana Farm took a break from
recording their debut album to perform a set of new songs at Dulwich Hill’s Lazy Thinking.

Banana Band’s Intimate Fundraising Performance

It was a last-minute performance, primarily designed to raise the necessary money to pay for
the recording. Yet – as bassist Sabine Tapia told me amid the joyful hysteria at the end of the
night – it was also a confirmation that the songs worked well. A boost of confidence they
could bring back to the studio tomorrow.

The venue was full of recognisable faces from the intimate Sydney music community. Some
sat at tables, some leaned on the record-rack beside the stage, and some stood on a bench at
the back of the room, slumped against the wall. On the cold Wednesday night, it appeared
none had the energy to dance. Instead, with warm smiles, everyone was content with sinking
into Banana Farm’s elegant compositions.

Over the forty minutes, the project only played two songs off their 2025 self-titled EP. One of
which – the beautiful Walls Away – began with an audience member literally jumping off
their chair with excitement, and ended with the whole room in a warm, harmonised chorus.
The remainder of the set was made up of songs both excitingly raw, and expertly rehearsed.

“It feels funny, we’ve been playing these songs all day. And now we’re actually playing them
to people,” vocalist Grace Rodgers laughed at one point. “It feels very foreign. So, thanks for
bearing with us.”

In contrast to the older music, it was clear in these new pieces how the band has developed
since the EP. Taking the best elements of their older music, they have composed a sound both
more complete and experimentally ambitious. Rodgers’ gently wavering voice is now
supported more frequently by either Tapia’s feathery harmonies, or – as in one moment,
when the band gathered in a circle away from the microphones – the collective voices of all
four members.

Rory Stewart’s guitar – the only melodic instrument beside vocals in the project – is also now
given more space to swagger. Void of distortion or many effects at all, the full, warm tone of
his strums, and his jazz-like darting riffs are inventive, and jammy. Like Daniel Rossen’s
guitar in Grizzly Bear, the meticulous patterns of his pick over his strings create fresh,
hypnotic rhythms for Rodgers and Tapia’s voices to swim over.

Rhythm and song structures are also now more intriguing. Tully Horneman’s drums, and
Tapia’s bass will often jump in and out, rising and falling several times through a song. Yet,
meanwhile, within this experimentation, the band are still able to come together and deliver
consistently catchy, memorable choruses that I found myself humming on the drive home.

As they arrived at the final song of the evening, Sleeptalker, Rodgers’ eyes glowed as she
looked around at her bandmates. It appeared it was all she could do to stop herself from
breaking into an ecstatic grin. Having presented the songs to an audience, the new music was
alive in the room around us. And, as we greeted them with open arms, it felt confirmed that
once recorded, and released to the world, these new songs would become favourites for many
years to come.