Review: Even the Storm Makes Space for Something New — Charlie Youngson at Froth Craft Bunbury

Mar 30

2 min read

Sometimes the best moments of a night aren’t the ones you planned for.

Rolling into Froth Craft Bunbury through the chaos of Cyclone Narelle, the focus was locked on Caravãna Sun and Tia Gostelow. The rain was relentless, the kind that makes you question whether anyone will actually show up — but music has a way of cutting through all of that.

And before the headliners, before the room filled out, there was something unexpected.

Opening the night was 20-year-old Charlie Youngson — a WAAPA-trained songwriter out of Bridgetown, stepping into a room that, at that point, was more focused on meals and conversations than the stage.

But that didn’t matter.

From the first few notes, there was something real in what he was doing. Blues and folk woven together with intricate guitar work, paired with stories that felt honest — youthful reflections on love, growth, and figuring things out in real time. It wasn’t overplayed or forced. It just was.

There’s a confidence in his playing that doesn’t need to shout to be heard. His guitar work moved between delicate and commanding, building into moments that caught the room off guard — including a solo that landed with far more weight than you’d expect from an opener early in the night.

And then came the kind of moment that defines an artist more than a perfect set ever could.

A technical hiccup. The aux cord played up.

One of those situations that can derail a performance, especially for someone early in a lineup, still earning the room.

But Charlie didn’t flinch.

He laughed it off, leaned into it, and somehow turned what could’ve been awkward into something memorable — finishing the song in a way that felt bigger than if nothing had gone wrong at all. It wasn’t just recovery. It was instinct. It was presence.

And even in a room not fully tuned in yet, people noticed.

You could feel it — that quiet shift where conversations soften just enough, where people start paying attention without realising they are.

There was genuine appreciation in the space, even if it wasn’t loud or immediate.

Watching him play, it was hard not to think about where this could go. There’s a rawness there, but also a level of control that suggests something much bigger building underneath. The kind of artist who, given the right rooms and the right moments, won’t stay in that “opening act” slot for long.

At one point, I found myself wondering what a jam session between Charlie and Beth Chia would sound like — that blend of storytelling and musicianship crossing paths. It feels like the kind of thing that would just work.

What stood out most wasn’t just the technical ability — though it’s clearly there — but the way he carries himself. Vocally, instrumentally, and in how he connects with a room, even one that hasn’t fully arrived yet.

That’s not easy.

And it’s usually a sign of something real.

Charlie Youngson might have been the first act of the night, but he didn’t feel like an afterthought. He felt like the beginning of something.