Hot Chip: Audience Was ‘Ready For The (Dance) Floor’ At The Opera House

As I left Hot Chip’s performance at the Sydney Opera House on January 14th, I could not help feeling a strange discontent.

Around me, fans of the London synth-pop band poured from beneath the iconic sails into Circular Quay. A happy hum filled the evening air. Within it I could hear loud exclamations of “That was fantastic!” and “They’re always brilliant!”

Yet, as much as I wished to share this exaltation, I could not shake the feeling that the performance had not lived up to expectations.

Hot Chip are renowned for their dance music. Forming in 2000, the five-piece rapidly became regulars on the UK top charts, with singles such as Over and Over and Ready for the Floor growing into certified festival favourites. Now, 26 years into their career, the group remains just as tight and musically ambitious as they always were.

Critics adore them, and loyal fans – such as those streaming into Circular Quay around me – won’t hesitate to sing their praise. Yet – as with any act – the setting in which Hot Chip performs their fast, repetitive dance-floor brand of music can make or break the experience.

On a festival stage, their music is right at home. The loud arpeggiated synths and driving rhythms have little trouble making a paddock of people move in harmony. Likewise, in an open floor theatre with no boundaries dividing audience members, dancing before the band is fluid and free. But in a tiered seated venue such as the Opera House’s Concert Hall, no matter the exquisite acoustics or beautiful interior design, I was unsure how Hot Chip’s dance music would fit.

As the band opened with their recently released Devotion (the only original track from their 2025 best-of album Joy in Repetition), the audience instantly erupted to their feet – many remaining there for the entire performance.

Lights, lasers, and small LED screens flashed, flared, and streaked across the smoke-filled stage. Three (sometimes four) euphoric synths built into reliably consistent drums. And on occasion, a climactic guitar or piano solo would elevate a song into a transcendent explosion of dance music.

Meanwhile – matching the endless playful energy of his bandmates – front man Alexis Taylor moved around the stage, his falsetto soaring with catchy, repetitive lyrics.

It was a performance of greatest hits – every song on the fifteen-track setlist received with as much adoration as the last. And at the peak of these hits, we were treated to exceptional live renditions of favourites Ready for the Floor, Over and Over, and Boy from School – each breathing life into the audience.

It would have made for an exceptional performance if we had been able to properly dance.

Yet stuck in our rows, rather than a pack of dancers, the audience was broken into little islands of swaying, bobbing, half-dancing individuals. Gradually, this awkward shuffle grew tiring for some audience members who surrendered into their chairs – only further emphasising the fractured island-like effect of the room.

Long-time fans were unfazed by this detail – clearly more enthused by the ability to see their favourite songs performed on one of Australia’s most famous stages.

Though for people less beguiled by the nostalgia of these greatest hits, it was hard not to notice how out of place the band were in this venue – no matter its significance.

Despite the clear quality of the music, production, and overall performance, I was ultimately left wondering on my journey home: would it have been better – when witnessing one of the best dance music acts from the last 25 years – if we had been able to properly dance.