Hoodoo Gurus rock on through the years — and a few earplugs. A night of hypnotic openers, Aussie legends, and static crowd surfing.
There’s something about an Auckland crowd that takes a minute, or maybe a setlist and a half to warm up.
Tonight’s gig at the Powerstation opened with local Indie psych-poppers Silk Cut, who rolled onto stage with the kind of hypnotic, pulsating groove that should’ve turned more heads than it did.
Unfortunately, the room was still filling in, a half-full sea of polite nods and beer-sipping, which was a shame. Because Silk Cut were on.
Their first track lured the early arrivals into a slow sway, a trance of melodic precision and subtle power.
By the second song, Professional, which cheekily slid in the iconic Professionals theme tune riff like a sonic wink, the crowd began to stir.
It’s a tight band. Good hooks, dreamy textures—but drummer, if you’re reading this, now’s the time to start thinking about your stage presence. The playing’s solid, but we need something more from the back of the room. This is Rock‘n’roll after all, not a dentist’s waiting room.
That said, things turned a corner with Transfer, a track with a hook strong enough to fish with and a drummer tossing in tasty little fills like he was auditioning for early Blur.
By the final number, there were even headbangers and a touch of dancing erupting in the front row. Victory, as they say, was snatched from the jaws of early set indifference.
Then came the main event.
Hoodoo Gurus, four decades and change into their career, took the stage with zero preamble.
The Ramones’ Blitzkrieg Bop blasted over the PA as the sound tech’s wink to Punk history, and then it was all business.
From note one, the Gurus were on. Tight as a nun’s…well, let’s just say there was no slack in this machine.
Harmonies landed like punches, and the rhythm section locked into gear with the precision of a band that’s clocked thousands of hours together and isn’t about to phone it in now.
The Gurus aren’t just a nostalgia act, they’re road-worn, battle-hardened, and clearly still loving it.
There was a quick mention of a guitar stolen back in ’84 on their first U.S. tour, which somehow made the band feel even more Rock‘n’roll. If your gear hasn’t been stolen mid-tour, are you even legit?
The set leaned heavily into their early catalogue, including a full play through of their first-ever album.
For the diehards, it was manna from heaven. But for a younger attendee (and yes, I’m one of those), the energy in the room felt a bit stiff. Chalk it up to the crowd, largely made up of folks who probably saw the Gurus the first time around and now look like they could be cast in a reboot of Kung Fu. Think David Carradine meets Sunday lawn mowing dads.
By the time they hit World of Pain, they turned things interactive, asking the crowd what they wanted to hear. A nice touch.
Unfortunately, some of that magic got swallowed in the reverb—especially as the front-of-house dB meter was pushing 112. Earplugs or die territory.
Despite the sheer musicianship, the crowd stayed oddly static for much of the night. Maybe it was the age factor, or perhaps the deep-cut-heavy setlist was too left of centre to ignite widespread energy.
By 11:10 pm, the room felt like a worn-out battery. Still sparking, but flickering. And maybe that’s just the reality of a band crossing its 42nd year. The songs still land, the band still delivers. But the audience? They’re showing their mileage.
Hoodoo Gurus have nothing left to prove. They’ve got the catalogue, the chops, and the war stories. And tonight, they reminded everyone lucky enough to be in the room that good Rock bands don’t fade. They just play louder.
Paul Marshall
Photography by Leonie Moreland
Hoodoo Gurus
Silk Cut
