While thousands of Aussies enjoyed boring Coldplay, a group of diehard fans relived the glory of a golden age right next door. I was one of them, writes AMY HOWES

As 60-odd thousand punters flocked to see what many might consider one of the greatest living bands at Sydney’s ANZ stadium last week, another breed of fan quietly made their own way among them to see who they know to truly be one of the greatest – right next door, at the much smaller Qudos Bank Arena.

As a child of the ’90s I was obsessed with Take That. Posters plastered every inch of my bedroom walls (and ceilings). I went to multiple concerts with my older sister. We waited outside studios, hotels, the gates of Wembley Stadium in London. I screamed and inexplicably cried along with thousands of others, truly believing that I was in love with Mark Owen. Then Robbie Williams. Then Gary Barlow. 

I went through a pretty serious Gary phase and even chose him when they released action-man style dolls of themselves. My sister has kept her Robbie doll pristine and still boxed, while mine was ripped out immediately. 

I am a proper grown up now (sort of) but my daughter still plays with that same Gary Barlow doll that lives at my mum’s house in London when we visit, and I love to regale her with the story of my first love.

I was a super fan. But by their standards I was a lightweight. The frenzy that surrounded Take That in the ’90s is hard to understand unless you witnessed it first-hand. 

Take That were the original boyband – before One Direction, but after The Beatles—straddling the gap between two vastly different musical eras. 

Their success was rooted in a special time in pop culture where music, media, and fandom converged in a unique way, making them pioneers of the boyband phenomenon that would define the decades to follow. 

To this day, Take That songs are the only songs I can confidently perform word-for-word at karaoke. So when I heard they were playing Sydney, there was no question I would be going to see them.

I roped my friend Katie into coming with me and as we made our way on the train from Central station out to Olympic Park, the carriages were packed with Coldplay fans. Coldplay music blared through the train speakers. It was clear who the City of Sydney thought was the main event. 

We knew better though—and as we all poured out and walked towards the neighbouring stadiums, it became clear who our tribe was. Namely women 40-plus (and quite a few husbands who had been dragged along).

With only three original members—Gary, Mark, and Howard—still actively touring, their shows cater to a niche but incredibly dedicated fanbase. 

As a child of the ’90s I was obsessed with Take That (pictured in 1991). Posters plastered every inch of my bedroom walls (and ceilings). I went to multiple concerts with my older sister

The fans who continue to show up to Take That’s tours are largely the same loyal group that supported them through their rise to stardom, their tumultuous breakup in 1996, and their subsequent reunion. 

We grew alongside the band and seeing them perform live isn’t just about hearing old hits like Relight My Fire or Pray – it’s about reconnecting with a part of our youth. 

The ’90s were a special time. It was an era where boybands could still exist in a way that felt magical and Take That created an atmosphere of excitement that no one ever will again. 

This yearning to reconnect with a simpler time is stronger than ever today, and a band like Take That offer a millennial like me more than just a nostalgic trip down memory lane. 

On the night after Trump was re-elected they offered something more profound: an emotional refuge in a time of increasing uncertainty.

I went through a pretty serious Gary Barlow (pictured) phase and even chose him when they released action-man style dolls of themselves

I roped my friend Katie (both pictured) into coming with me and as we made our way on the train from Central station out to Olympic Park, the carriages were packed with Coldplay fans. Coldplay music blared through the train speakers

The set-up today couldn’t be more different. So much smaller, so much more relaxed. No pyrotechnics. No aerial acrobatics. But the emotional connection with their fans remains. 

There’s an underlying humour in their performances now, as the band members openly acknowledge their age, their legacy, and the fact that they are no longer the pop idols who once ruled the charts with relentless energy. 

Rather than trying to hide or deny it, they’ve embraced their reality. They appreciate the audience that’s always been there for them and deliver an intimate, nostalgic experience for us. 

That being said; for men in their 50s, their dance moves are still 10/10. Even Gary who always struggled with the moves (bless him) gave it a red-hot crack.

The fans who continue to show up to Take That’s tours are largely the same loyal group that supported them through their rise to stardom, their tumultuous breakup in 1996, and their subsequent reunion

There’s an underlying humour in their performances now, as the band members openly acknowledge their age, their legacy, and the fact that they are no longer the pop idols who once ruled the charts with relentless energy. Pictured: remaining band members Howard Donald, Gary Barlow and Mark Owen in 2023

I consider myself a music fan. My taste goes far beyond Take That. But it takes a lot to get me out to a stadium gig these days. 

I’m old, I’m a mum, I’m tired. Mostly, I simply cannot deal with the post-gig crowds and train ride home. But I was fuelled by a special love that only fellow Take That fans would understand. 

I sang along to every song and barely looked at my phone once. And when the boys (men) made their way out briefly into the audience, the young superfan in me instantly took over and I moved so fast to get amongst the excitement. 

Even my friend was slightly taken aback by my ‘psycho’ behaviour.

And as we dashed out of the stadium with that journey home in mind, we caught all we needed to hear of Coldplay as well. A Sky Full of Stars blared out and the big-budget fireworks lit up their enormous stadium. 

I’d heard all I needed to of that and was very happy to be walking onto an empty train in good time. We got chatting to a couple of fellow Take-That’ers en route who told us we looked ‘too cool’ to be Take That fans. 

‘Please,’ I said as I looked down at my bum-bag – before quickly reminding her—’Take That fans ARE cool.’

My sister has kept her Robbie doll pristine and still boxed, while my Gary doll was ripped out immediately