Empire of the Sun Tour: 5 Shocking Reasons Fans Are Demanding Refunds
1. The Lead Singer Was Replaced by a Suspiciously Chatty Parrot
Fans showed up expecting Luke Steele’s ethereal vocals, only to discover a flamboyant macaw perched on the mic stand squawking “Walking on a Dream” in Morse code. Rumor has it the bird also critiqued the audience’s dance moves mid-set. Attendees are now questioning whether this is performance art… or a feathered hostage situation.
2. The Stage Design Was Just 700 Inflatable Kangaroos
Empire of the Sun is known for surreal visuals, but this time, things got too Aussie. The entire stage was buried under a writhing mountain of glow-in-the-dark kangaroos. No lasers. No costumes. Just… roos. One fan tweeted: “I paid $150 to see a rave at Bunnings Warehouse.” (Bunnings, for the record, denies involvement.)
3. The “LED Suits” Malfunctioned… Permanently
Those iconic light-up costumes? They short-circuited during the first song, leaving band members stuck in neon hazmat suits that beeped incessantly. Security reportedly mistook them for rogue Roombas and tried to “redirect” them offstage. Cue a 45-minute intermission of techs armed with blowtorches.
- Other grievances include:
- The encore was just a 20-minute “interpretive nap” by the drummer.
- Merch stands sold “mystery confetti bags” that were just shredded parking tickets.
4. The Opener Was a Literal Potato
In a bold move, the tour replaced supporting acts with a single spotlight on a spud rotating slowly to a synth cover of “Chariots of Fire.” Organizers called it “a commentary on consumerism.” Fans called it “the worst $12 beer accompaniment ever.” Demands for refunds spiked when the potato sprouted eyes… and judgment.
Is the Empire of the Sun Tour Really Worth the Hype? An Unfiltered Deep Dive
Glitter, Neon Thrones, and a Guy in a Helmet: Let’s Break This Down
So, you’re wondering if the Empire of the Sun Tour is just a glorified rave for people who own too many glow sticks, or a life-altering spectacle that’ll make your Instagram followers seethe with envy. Let’s start with the obvious: yes, there’s a man in a *space samurai helmet* singing atop a neon-lit throne. If that sentence doesn’t make you at least *consider* buying tickets, are you even alive? But is it worth the $200+ and explaining to your boss why you’re hoarse on Monday? Let’s dive.
The Good, the Sparkly, and the “What Am I Watching?”
- Visuals that outshine your ex’s new relationship: Imagine if a UFO made of glitter crash-landed into a Lisa Frank notebook. That’s the stage design. There are dancers dressed as mythical creatures, lasers that could probably signal Mars, and enough confetti to bury a small car. It’s like Cirque du Soleil on synth-pop steroids.
- Nostalgia with a side of chaos: They play the hits (*Walking on a Dream* slaps live, fight me), but also… interpretive dance battles? A guy in a kangaroo costume? It’s part concert, part fever dream—which is either genius or proof someone’s been sniffing too much hairspray backstage.
The “Okay, But Why Is My Seat Sticky?” Reality Check
Let’s get real. The hype train has some *questionable cargo*. If you’re expecting a stripped-down acoustic set where Luke Steele whispers existential poetry, you’ll be traumatized. The bass is cranked to “earthquake mode,” the crowd is 60% people dressed like they raided an intergalactic yard sale, and at some point, you’ll think, *“Is this a cult?”* (Maybe. But a fun one.) Also, tickets cost roughly the same as a kidney on the black market.
Bottom line: If you’re into concerts that feel like a psychedelic rollercoaster piloted by aliens, yes, it’s worth it. If you’d rather watch paint dry while sipping chamomile, maybe sit this one out. And hey, if you go, wear sequins. You’ll regret it if you don’t.
