In the nine years since he last played this room, Cody ChesnuTT told us, not only has he released another album – last year's rather fabulous Landing on a Hundred – but more importantly moved on from the man he was then. Unable to sing without feeling himself in the songs, he therefore couldn't really perform those old songs for us.
Apart from the absence of those songs, which surprisingly weren't that missed – as good as they were – the myriad ways he's changed may at first be less obvious to us than to him and his family.
He still wears the military helmet and capitalises his surname's Ts; he still sings with a kind of Marvin Gaye high tenor that has a caress built in; he still has charisma that lifts everything, particularly a ballad.
But as the show meandered through its first 40 or so minutes, one key difference could be discerned: whereas last time at the Metro we received a spiritual and musical lesson, this show lacked focus.
Firstly sonic focus, with drums and bass too loud and guitar too quiet for a little too long. Then musical focus, with some grooves left to repeat rather than build and others too quickly discarded while the band drifted. And finally, an emotional focus in the absence of the basis of all good soul, passion: whether for God, a lover or social change.
While last time it was startling for your mostly secular Sydneysiders how much God figured in his every utterance, he carried us over that threshold with his intensity. This time it was striking both how the bloke upstairs remained unmentioned and how we missed it.
It took the arrival of Don't Go the Other Way and its more urgent funk for ChesnuTT to lift, for the band to be freed and for the show to start to feel compelling. Suddenly they were hitting harder and we were dancing; he was exulting and we were responding; songs were gripping and intensity spread through the room.
It ended as a high-quality show and that's what most will talk about but it had been a close run thing. Too close, really.