Jazmine Mary Gets Lost in Their Presence at Dulwich Hill’s Lazy Thinking

“I was too present,” Jazmine Mary laughs on June 15 after a mistake midway through their beautiful 2025 song, Narcotics Anonymous Meeting. The Aotearoa alt-folk artist smiles at bandmate Louisa Nicklin, who is squeezed behind a keyboard beside them. Then, addressing the crowd gathered along the walls of Dulwich Hill’s intimate Lazy Thinking, instead of apologising for this interruption, they humorously encourage us to sit in the silence for a
second.

The pause is brief. Mary’s fingers are soon again playing over their guitar, and likewise Nicklin’s saxophone is rising to lilt beneath superb lyrics. But in those short awkward seconds, the audience is allowed to contemplate this presence that Mary found themself lost in.

It is Monday, and graciously we have found ourselves beginning the week with live music – a rarity which needs to be made more common. A tiredness yawns through the crowd, and two sets of local folk from three-piece Team. Building, then singer-songwriter Georgia Mulligan, have lowered a gentle warmth into the space. We are content.

And in this moment of reflection, we are allowed to appreciate how happy we are to be resting in the haze of Mary’s music.

The musician seems to reflect this contentment.

Tonight is the conclusion of their run of eight shows up Australia’s east coast. And with only two nights off while blazing through rural cities, they cannot have had much time to reflect and recoup.

All but this performance have been played with a full band. Though due to the financial strain of hosting a band in Sydney, everyone but Nicklin and Mary have left early. So tonight, playing as a duo, in an intimate venue, at the conclusion of a big ten days, this set seems almost a breath of air. A landing. An opportunity to relax.

Between songs, Mary is authentic and funny. They talk about their excitement for Thursday’s release of Toy Story 5 and thank us with genuine honesty for coming out to see them on a Monday.

“What a cool spot you’ve got here,” they mention at one point, “with its walls and its deep fryer. It’s very lovely. It’s a Monday and you’re all here. I don’t know if your city’s alive, or just this place, but it’s pretty fuckin’ cool.”

Then, when their slow, hovering music takes over, the comedy and quiet chaos dissipates.

Steady, gradual strums of their blue Gretsch become like the slow wings of a seabird. They push down, then up, weightlessly gliding into the space. Interludes of fast plucks pour like rain, and Nicklin’s saxophone or pulsing keys brim, holding the songs together.

Atop this, with either their head hung back or lips melting into the mic, Mary’s grief-laden lyrics are given life. They traverse the musician’s vocal range with ease. Words are picked up with light whispers, then buried with a voice drowning in depth. They hold us and draw us in.

Comforting and calm. Grounding.

Ultimately, in those seconds where Mary faltered mid song and asked us to sit in the resulting silence, we hardly needed a prompt to appreciate the feeling of being present. Huddled together in an intimate venue, with a work week looming, the authenticity and superb beauty of their performance was enough.