Full Metal Orchestra. Take as directed and read the label.
Three words that promise something massive. A sound overdose. A genre-bending collision of raw Rock power and symphonic grandeur.
Something fierce, immersive, theatrical. Unforgettable.
And for much of the night, Full Metal Orchestra delivered on that promise.
The show launched with a guitar duel that was pure theatre. Two axe-wielding virtuosos trading licks, tossing musical jabs like prize fighters. It was loud, cheeky, and full of grin-inducing bravado. A great way to drop the crowd into the deep end.
Eruption — the Van Halen classic — explosive, dramatic, and bold. And while no one’s pretending it matched Eddie Van Halen’s original note-for-note wizardry, it didn’t need to
It set the tone. This was going to be fun, fierce, and full of muscle.
From there, the show hit full throttle. The legendary Jon Toogood of Shihad fame kicked in with a blistering Enter Sandman. Tight. Theatrical. No warm-up, no apologies — just a seasoned frontman igniting the crowd.
Then came EJ Barnes, delivering The Number of the Beast with precision, intensity, and a command that felt almost cinematic. She met the moment with complete ownership. Not just singing but also storytelling.
Jennie Skulander followed with Immigrant Song, and it was one of the night’s absolute highs. Her voice — sharp, dark, full of menace — cut straight through the air and left the audience holding its breath.
It was a spine-tingling performance that proved why she’s considered one of Aotearoa’s most powerful vocalists.
Milan Borich (Pluto) stepped up with his songs. He’s got that seasoned frontman DNA — and it showed. Makeup on, smashing tunes like a seasoned pro.
Seamus Johnson, a standout. The Wellington-based vocalist and frontman of Sea Mouse brought a rawness that I haven’t seen before. It’s not a visual thing but think a Kiwi version of Tim Minchin. Think a raw Judas on a stage in the Westend or Broadway. His vocal range is to be envied and amazing. His performance added another flavour entirely, and it landed hard with the crowd. He nailed it.
Then came the moment the crowd had been buzzing for. The arrival of Phil Rudd.
There was an undeniable shift in the atmosphere. People stood still. The man behind the groove of AC/DC — understated, unshakable — was back on the kit.
His playing was rock solid. All feel. All time. No theatrics, no ego, just that signature Rudd engine room — steady as hell and deceptively powerful.
It was poetic to watch. Watching him play was a masterclass in restraint and weight. They say a show like this requires a solid click track between all the artists ears. I believe that click track was Rudd himself. Perfect timing.
But from that point, something began to unravel.
I started walking the arena. From front of stage to the side risers, even beside the sound booth. And everywhere I went, the question was the same. Where was the orchestra?
I met a guy from France, Rudy, who turned to me with a confused look and asked, can you hear any orchestra?
And that was the moment that defined the show. There were over 30 amazing crafts people sitting on stage, but they were barely audible in the mix. The strings, the brass, the very sonic character that separates a show like this from a stadium Rock show. It was all but lost in the noise.
The guitars were cranked. The drums thunderous. The vocals, at times fighting to be heard.
And the orchestra? Smothered.
There were moments begging for their lift — the drama, the contrast, the grand cinematic sweep — but those moments came and went without the orchestral punch they needed. It felt like a gear was missing.
That said, what kept the night from tipping too far into frustration were the performances. There was no shortage of passion on that stage. The lighting was exceptional. The pacing, deliberate.
And some of the musical choices — War Pigs, Raining Blood with an orchestra, Sober, Master of Puppets — were bold and beautifully unexpected.
But let’s be clear. The women saved this show.
EJ Barnes was a firestorm. Fierce, theatrical, and completely present. She didn’t just hit her marks — she owned them. She brought the drama, the emotion, and the clarity the show desperately needed.
Jennie Skulander? A force of nature. Her voice sat effortlessly above the chaos. Velvet-wrapped steel, slicing through every layer of sound. Her presence, tone and power brought the arena back to life. She was simply world class.
Together, they offered the most emotionally charged, balanced, and musically satisfying moments of the night. They were the Full Metal. They were the Orchestra.
I’ve been a fan of these productions since the start and the ambition here was clear. This was a stadium-level show with serious heart, serious players, and serious energy.
But tonight, something got lost in the mix. The balance was off. And the orchestra — the one thing that could have turned this from great into unforgettable — never got the space it deserved.
So, here’s the truth. EJ Barnes and Jennie Skulander delivered world-class performances. Seamus Johnson brought raw brilliance. Milan Borich was solid and heartfelt. Phil Rudd brought history, heartbeat and serious presence. The crowd brought love. The production brought fire.
But for all its strengths, this show proved one thing loud and clear. Metal needs contrast to hit hardest.
And so does music. Without the orchestra in the foreground — without its drama, its breath, its weight — this show fell short of its own ambition.
Still, for one loud, electric, imperfectly brilliant night… it gave us plenty to remember.
And next time? Let the orchestra breathe. Let it rise.
Because when it does, this show won’t just Rock. It will resonate.
Aaron Gascoigne
Click any icon to view a full gallery of photos by Azrie Azizi
Jon Toogood also performed a solo set. Check out Azrie Azizi’s shots here.
I just saw the Christchurch show last night, and my review of it would have been identical to what you’ve said here: an epic show, but so much opportunity lost with the orchestra not getting the prominence it needed.