A lot about tonight’s show at the Factory Theatre seemed to be about missed opportunities. For a start, it wasn’t sold out and a black curtain was pulled across the side of the stage obscuring the view from a row of comfortable lounge chairs. Then there was the first of the support acts.

On paper, Nic Dalton and His Gloomchasers seem to tick all the boxes, even with their less-than-cheery name. Nic Dalton, an elder statesman of the Australian music industry, fronts the quartet who have released two self-described “great” albums. Dalton has performed in the bands Sneeze, Ratcat, The Hummingbirds and Godstar and runs the label, Half A Cow. Yet, the group performed to a very small set of punters, a shame because they seemed rather chuffed with being given the opportunity to perform their first “proper” gig.

The songs seemed to show promise and could be described as sitting somewhere between soft rock, folk and alt-country. But even with these hints at different genres permeating and flavouring the work, the music did become quite repetitive in nature and lacked variety.

Opener, “There’s Nobody Coming Over” borrowed a few things from The Cure’s “Just Like Heaven” while “Six Hours West” seemed to fit the musical order of three chords and the truth. It was a folk travel ode and journey – you guessed it – out West. “And Baby Makes Two” seemed reminiscent of The Triffids. Rounding out the set were “Ballad Of A Single Mum” and “Tender, Tender” with some tracks providing a sombre gravel and whiskey vibe, while others were like slower country songs you could almost imagine a fiddler happily accompanying.

In the last few songs, Dalton swapped his acoustic guitar for a mandolin and decided to don a cape. Whether this was an attempt to pay respects to the Godfather of Soul, the late James Brown, or the ultimate rock frontman/poseur, Mick Jagger is debatable (admittedly, Dalton had attempted to “rock” out with a mandolin earlier in what proved a difficult feat that was not won). But it did all feel rather odd. Perhaps the strangest sight of it all was when things were nearing a close and Dalton jumped off the stage to embrace a bemused, tall man with an enormous afro who had been faithfully watching the show from the front of the dance floor, while everyone else kept their distance and sat up the back of the venue.

While Nic Dalton and Co. had failed to make much impact with their songs, things faired a lot worse for Carry Nation AKA Jessie Warren. Tonight, Warren strode on stage looking a lot like Julia Stone. While she was armed with an acoustic guitar and her sweet voice, being without a band proved to be to her detriment, because by then the crowd had grown significantly and she was no match for them. While punters gave her the benefit of the doubt for some of the opening songs, eventually they got bored and chatted with their mates. As time drew on their talking eclipsed the amplified Warren and although the sound guy intervened and attempted to redress the balance, by then it all seemed like a rather lost cause.

This was a real pity because Carry Nation’s music seems to sit somewhere between a soft lullaby, the love song pop of Sarah Blasko and the folk of Joni Mitchell, and it certainly seemed pleasant enough (albeit, what was audible). Warren seemed rather timid and when it became more and more obvious she was losing the crowd, she seemed to retreat further and further into her shell. In future she could consider always playing with some form of accompaniment to take the weight of expectation off her diminutive shoulders.

She performed “Braking Is For Heroes” and “How To Keep You” plus a cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Have You Ever Seen The Rain?”. The latter meant she had some very large shoes to fill, and while it was entertaining and a tad surreal to hear the lead vocals by a female, they certainly weren’t a patch on John Fogerty’s amazing and powerful voice. At the very least, afro-man at the front provided encouragement and his undivided attention and was definitely the most well behaved audience member in the entire place.

Thankfully, by the time Gympie’s finest, Darren Hanlon took to the stage, things had drastically improved, both musically and the all-round vibe. He started with his tale about being star struck with a fleeting encounter with a famous actress in “Elbows”. The final line about having touched elbows and that he still hadn’t showered received titters of approval, the first of many at his clever and witty lyrics.

An oldie, “She Cuts Hair” had people giggling at the sartorial throwback, “acid wash jeans”. Afterwards, some stray house lights made Hanlon remark that the show was far from over and he quickly got into his comedic element with some funny banter. Over the course of the night he touched on everything from: Shakespearian soliloquies and monologues to 3pm lunches; advertisements including Snappy Tom, SPC Baked Beans and Carpet Court; self-plagiarising artists; stage diving; regional cities; Oregon songs; and five encores, to name but a few. The crowd lapped everything up and some people even joined in to heckle, at times providing hilarious fodder, and at others it was merely bossing around or superfluous exhibitionist-style one-liners.

As if it had only just occurred to him, Hanlon exclaimed, “I have a band, actually” and he asked them to join him. They played “Butterfly Bones”, the newest single and a quirky ditty about an easily broken girl that seemed like a pop song crossed with a crooning lounge act. When he was filming the video clip for it, novelist/playwright, Bob Ellis made a cameo but not without adding his own two cents. He asked, “Darren, why are you surrounded by all these beautiful, intelligent women? You look like you’ve just stepped off The Dish!” Rhys Muldoon had driven Ellis especially to the gig, and the former Playschooler was spotted during the interval talking up a storm to a barman in a black, Ramones t-shirt. But that’s a story for another day.

Then Darren felt like dancing, so it was time for the sugary pop of “Happiness Is Just A Chemical”. For "Scenes From A Separation" he invited his band mates, Steph Hughes and Shelley Short to contribute vocals. The number seemed to bring to mind the innocence of a fifties girl band, a timeless classic on the radio and a sea shanty. Really. The boy-girl vocals continued into “If Only My Heart Were Made Of Stone” a country hoedown of sorts where you could almost imagine the oldies line-dancing up a storm.

It was then time for the serious, “Home,” a love letter about returning to the place where you’d grown up. Then there was the new track – the newly christened – “All Creatures Known”, with Hanlon admitting to plagiarising himself. Indeed, it did have a hint of “Elbows” about it, but with the added bonus of sounding like one of his duets.

Next up were some things that E from Eels would consider worthy of the grandchildren knowing, some valuable lessons Hanlon has learnt in the ditty, “Folk Insomnia”. For those in need of enlightenment consider:

“Don’t walk in front of cars or behind horses
Cats don’t drink milk out of flying saucers”

The teaching stopped all too soon for more Hanlon-inspired frivolity in a song he’d co-written. It was “Here Comes The Sun” written from the perspective of a vampire. Hearing lines like “Little bat” and needing to make haste back to my coffin, it was a hilarious spectacle, particularly as vampires are not known for their senses of humour. I’m sure there were at least a few punters that walked away wishing Bill Compton or Eric Northman would serenade Sookie with this in True Blood. Nice.

“Punk’s Not Dead” proved a sheer joy with Hanlon lapping up the energy and segueing off to sing, “I’m waiting for my man” thereby changing the lyrics to both his and The Velvet Underground’s work. More cheeriness continued when he pulled out a ukulele for “All These Things” with its agreeable call and response, boy-girl vocals. “I Waited For The 17,” “Modern History” and an instrumental brought the main set to a close.

For the encore, Hanlon played a solo rendition of “Falling Aeroplanes” before things got electrified for the cover, “Together In Electric Dreams” and his own punchy pop song, “Electric Skeleton”. It is quite possible that a second encore was supposed to follow (after all, five had been promised earlier) but the fun police stepped in and put the house lights up quick smart. Another shame, but not the first of the evening.

Hanlon had put on a hugely entertaining set- sometimes pithy, very clever, often funny, and with lots of highly relatable experiences. By dabbling in the wonderful and all too transient minutiae of daily life, Hanlon the poet had made the proceedings a celebration of all this and more and left everyone feeling that much more cheerful.