Review: SummerSalt at Fremantle Prison
SummerSalt at Fremantle Prison
Saturday, October 4, 2025
October can always be a bit hit-and-miss weather-wise, and unfortunately, we leant into the “miss” column with the drizzly wind and rain on Saturday. Sluggish entry lines for punters didn’t dampen spirits too much, as the novelty of walking through the Fremantle Prison gates brought on more excitement. Once inside, the usual merch stand, bar and food vans outlined the edges, but alas, there was not a pergola or umbrella to provide refuge from the elements. Alongside this, the questionable split between premium general, seated premium and general admission created a distinctly classist vibe. Not very Freo at all. That said, once the music started and the rain ponchos were on, the delight began to rise.
Kicking things off was Bea and her Business, and she wasted no time in showing off a powerhouse vocal range, launching straight into Safety Net with a moody Wednesday Addams confidence that instantly caught the crowd’s attention. She looked every bit a Keira Knightley ‘English Rose’ but donned a punchy Captain Jack Sparrow fit. London-born, with handheld camcorder parents in tow, Bea felt like both a rising star and a family affair. Rich got everyone clapping along before she had the crowd doing callbacks on Good Things, and you wouldn’t be surprised if her next stop was supporting Sabrina Carpenter. Playing a new unreleased track, Delicate as Fk, hinted at a sharp pop future, while her set-ender, Born to Be Alive, sealed it: polished, catchy, and not a note out of place. Short but dazzling, you would 10/10 see it again, though the 20-minute set length felt like a cruel tease.
Opening with “I’m in the prison, babyyyy” before launching into Purple Teeth, Del Water Gap leant into the novelty of the venue. Cavorting about the stage with a ridiculously long mic cord getting caught on the various items, you couldn’t help but wish someone would just get this diva a handheld mic. His likeness to a recent popular criminal in the press had some thinking that the guise of a touring rock heartthrob would have been an even greater escape route for Luigi Mangione. Sporting some pink sunglasses, The New Yorker introduced How to Live by thanking “triple j for playing the shit out of it”, and the instant catchiness outlined why it’s become a favourite. Tracks like Better Than I Know Myself added that softboi crooner feel alongside anecdotes about dating an Aussie girl and her becoming the inspiration for the next album. Between the soft ballads and his restless energy, this surely won’t be the last time we’ll be seeing him on our stages.
Ball Park Music were the first to really snap the crowd back together, bursting into Head Like a Sieve as punters rushed in from the bar/toilets/food vans. The 70s Cali-surf, Beach Boys-esque vibes felt warmly ironic as the wind and rain picked up with a ferocity, punctuated by the cheeky on-stage quip: “Need your swimmers, I hope it rains harder.”
New material from their Like Love album, Please Don’t Move to Melbourne, played like modern Australiana but also felt inspired by the roots-fuelled Dire Straits. Highly talented musicians, they riffed through sections into Spark Up from their 2020 self-titled album and provided an outstanding showcase of band unity. By the time class favourite It’s Nice to Be Alive rolled out, the crowd was bouncing in unison—drenched, but delighted.
The Wombats kicked off with fresh cuts from their 2025 release, Sorry I’m Late I Didn’t Want to Come. However lyrically poignant, the falsetto weighed it down a little. Familiar ground was quickly restored with Moving to New York, and the bass player’s iconic fringe was still going as strong as his headbanging (it was never just a phase, Mum) to a heavy kick drum.
A fried keyboard forced the skipping of their third song, potentially a casualty of the rain coming in sideways? But the band powered on with their trademark self-deprecation. Quirky moments (including a costumed wombat flipping off the singer during Ready for the High) kept things playful.
They then took the audience back to their beginnings in Liverpool and laughed in retrospect at the gall they had by saying, “This is how we started the first album,” with a perfect three-part harmony call and response of Tales of Girls, Boys and Marsupials. Continuing with the nostalgia, Tokyo was reminiscent of gritty late nights at Amps (instead of the bar in Tokyo), circa 2010-2013, and the death of Tumblr. SummerSalt, being an all-ages gig, saw some really heart-warming moments with young girls around the ages of 10 and 15 screaming the lyrics of Lemon to a Knife Fight back to their dad, completely drenched from head to toe. The night hit peak unity on Let’s Dance to Joy Division, the whole compound pogoing like it was still the early ’10s.
Closing duties fell to DMA’s, who arrived five minutes late (which is a big deal when you’ve been cold and wet for five hours) and dropped straight into Forever without so much as a hello. While the lead guitarist sported a simple hoodie, acoustic guitarist Johnny Took was suited up and slung his guitar improbably high. He looked like a flamenco act moonlighting in a rock band, and it was oddly hypnotic.
Frontman Tommy O’Dell kept stage chatter to a minimum, adopting a studied Liam Gallagher-style aloofness. Their set balanced big anthems like Silver with more intimate moments, most notably an acoustic cover of Cher’s Believe. By the time Lay Down closed the night, the singalong energy was undeniable. DMA’s know how to fuel a crowd, rain or shine.
As a closing remark, in the future it would be good to see the set lengths prioritised more, rather than trying to squeeze more acts in. SummerSalt at Fremantle Prison was a lovely setting, somewhat overshadowed by poor weather and frustrating logistics, but the music did triumph. Bea and Her Business emerged as a true pop revelation, Del Water Gap brought charm, Ball Park Music delivered warmth, The Wombats balanced nostalgia and novelty, and DMA’s closed with pure crowd-igniting force.
MIA CAMPBELL-FOULKES
Photos by Nicola Robb
