Georgia Lines – Civic Theatre, 15 June 2025: Review & Photo Gallery

Last night at Auckland’s historic Civic Theatre, Georgia Lines didn’t just perform—she transported us.

Somewhere between the lush satin folds of the stage design and the tear-welling tenderness of her voice, Lines delivered one of the most emotionally arresting and creatively curated live shows seen in this part of the world in years.

It was more than a concert. It was an experience that blurred the lines between theatre, soul, and sonic art.

The setting felt part-Broadway, part dreamscape. Tiered steps dressed in crimson satin evoked vintage Hollywood opulence, like Madonna’s Material Girl set redesigned by someone with Soul and class.

At centre stage stood Georgia—barefoot, grounded, radiant. Her high heels, discarded casually by her feet, looked more like loyal fans soaking in the atmosphere than accessories.

From the moment she opened her mouth it was clear. This is an artist of rare calibre.

Her voice? A velvet thunderstorm—warm, fierce, impossibly delicate.

With a full band featuring drums, grand piano, electric bass and guitar, cello, and a trio of violins, the arrangements swelled and sighed with cinematic flair. Every note was wrapped in warmth and vulnerability.

Then came that moment. Her cover of Elton John’s Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. it wasn’t just good—it was spiritual. Sung with aching sincerity, it caught the breath of the room, squeezing hearts until they wept.

Lines didn’t perform the song. She believed it. And in doing so, so did we.

But just when we thought we’d seen the emotional peak, the curtain fell—and everything went dark. Literally.

For the next five songs, the theatre transformed into a sensory deprivation tank of sound. The stars embedded in the Civic’s famous ceiling flickered to life—complete with floating clouds and a shooting star—while the band played unseen behind the curtain.

With our eyes denied the usual distractions, our ears came alive. We weren’t just listening—we were feeling. Each note pierced the dark like constellations drawn in sound.

This wasn’t gimmickry. This was artistry.

It also highlighted what insiders already know. The Civic Theatre is one of the best-sounding rooms on the planet.

And I’d know, I was the promoter who brought Toto here in 2008, and both Steve Lukather and their sound engineer ranked this venue among their global Top 10 for acoustics. That’s not just high praise, it’s hall-of-fame level respect.

Just when we’d surrendered to the spell of that soundscape, a lone spotlight flared in front of the curtain. Standing in it like a beam of mana was Nikau Grace, who delivered a soul-crushing performance of Rapau Te Mea Ngaro.

Her voice didn’t just fill the room, it shook it, resonating with spiritual gravity that brought chills.

The surprises didn’t end there.

As the curtain rose, Hollie Smith took the stage and tore the roof clean off with her anthem Bathe in the River.  The crowd cheering with excitement as one. This was church. This was communion. And it was divine.

Georgia Lines didn’t just share her spotlight—she lit it for others.

Alongside her throughout the night were genre-shifting Kiwi heavyweights. Louie Baker, Teeks, Nikau Grace, and Hollie Smith.

When they all sang together, it wasn’t just harmony—it was a supernova of New Zealand Soul. The kind of moment you chase and rarely catch.

Credit, too, must go to the phenomenal band whose performance was every bit as spellbinding as the stars onstage.

But the night didn’t end with the final note.

Post-show, the Civic turned into a choose-your-own-adventure fairytale. We wandered through velvet corridors to visit a resident witch who conjured personalised potions based on whispered truths.

Then, like stepping into a surrealist tarot dream, we sat with a clairvoyant who—scepticism be damned—told me things about my life that felt eerily accurate. I left wondering if she’d been rifling through my memories.

And just when things couldn’t get weirder? We stumbled into the Civic foyer, where an avant-garde performance erupted around a treadmill with a fan.

Enter a tribe of caveman-glam guys with floor-length blonde hair.

One hopped on the treadmill, shedding layers (and inhibitions) until we were left gasping, laughing, and maybe a little confused—but entirely entertained. It was absurd, hilarious, and somehow perfectly on theme with the night’s rollercoaster of wonder.

Downstairs, the piano bar karaoke night after party turned into an intimate after-hours moment for the ages

Amidst the DIY divas and bold-hearted crooners, something quietly magical unfolded. Hollie Smith, Troy Kingi, and Louie Baker, seeking solace after the sudden loss of a close friend, joined the small crowd. Looking not for attention, but for a momentary escape.

One by one, they took the mic. No fanfare. No stage. Just raw, unfiltered brilliance shared with a lucky handful of patrons. It was a deeply human, achingly beautiful response to grief. An experience money could never buy.

The room felt like the centre of the universe, and we were wrapped in that rare kind of magic that kept us out until 3 am, not wanting the night to end.

Georgia Lines didn’t just headline a show—she curated an entire world.

One filled with music, magic, and mayhem. From barefoot ballads to starlit symphonies, witches to treadmill performance art, this was a night that blew open the possibilities of what a live concert could be.

It wasn’t just unforgettable. It was unrepeatable.

Paul Marshall

Photography by Azrie Azizi