Tadpole – Paraoa Brewing CO, 31 October 2025: Review & Photo Gallery

Aaron Gascoigne and Photos by Leonie Moreland

1st November 2025

As I make my way up the Whangaparāoa Peninsula to catch one of New Zealand’s truly iconic bands, Tadpole, I’m reminded how lucky we are to have regional venues that still champion live music.

It’s these pockets of culture — local breweries, repurposed halls, and coastal hideaways — that keep the heart of Aotearoa’s music scene beating.

Paraoa Brewing Company has earned its reputation as the Powerstation of the North Shore. The acoustics are crisp, the lighting rig more than capable, and the sound system is built to handle anything from Indie duos to full-scale Rock outfits.

My own eleven-piece band has played there a number of times and it’s always been a joy — a space where musicians are treated with respect and the mix truly matters.

When I arrive, the room feels a touch subdued. The crowd is thin, the air relaxed, and I hear murmurs that ticket sales have been slower than expected. But there’s something special about these smaller nights. They often end up being the most memorable. A tight-knit crowd, great sound, and the promise of something authentic.

Before Tadpole take the stage, a young support band called The Rumpus Machine sets up.

Their name comes from their home rehearsal space, and the band itself is entirely made up of siblings. Twin sisters Ashly and Hannah (both fifteen) on drums and bass, Daniel on vocals, and Matthew on lead guitar.

I meet their dad, and we end up reminiscing about the old days in Hamilton when he was in a band called Jury. I was touring around NZ and Australia at the same time, managed to catch a show or two of his band — they were good — and that same spark is clearly alive in his kids.

The Rumpus Machine are the kind of act that make you stop mid-conversation and pay attention. Their influences stretch from Six60 to Queen, from L.A.B to Iron Maiden — an unlikely but surprisingly cohesive blend.

Every member was impressive in their own right, but it’s their chemistry as siblings that really lifts them.

Ashly and Hannah are the rhythmic heartbeat, that twin-like intuition impossible to fake. The defining moment of their set comes at the end, when they announce their final song — Bohemian Rhapsody.

You can feel the collective eyebrow raise in the room, but they absolutely nail it. Tight harmonies, confident solos, and a stage presence that belies their age. I tip my hat to them. That took guts, and they did it justice.

Then, Tadpole. A band synonymous with the golden era of early-2000s New Zealand Rock. This tour celebrates twenty-five years since their breakout album Buddafinger — a record I’d been listening to in the car on the drive up, singing along to every track.

They hit the stage right on time, no preamble, just that unmistakable Tadpole energy. Lauren Marshall on vocals is immediately captivating — her voice crisp and powerful, her stage presence commanding yet effortless.

She’ll no doubt get the Evanescence or Devilskin comparisons, but truthfully, she’s her own force. There’s something uniquely New Zealand about her tone — equal parts angelic and gritty — and she owns every moment.

Chris Yong on guitar is masterful, his decades of experience shining through every riff and solo. The tone from his Mesa Boogie amp is fat and articulate, every lick landing perfectly.

Behind him, the rhythm section is simply on fire. Dean Lawton on drums is a powerhouse — tight, hard, and precise — while Rom Smith on bass drives the groove with authority and feel, every note locking perfectly into Dean’s pocket. Together they’re the engine that powers Tadpole’s sound — relentless, tight, and infectious.

And then there’s DJ Kritikl — an integral part of what makes Tadpole Tadpole. Every drop, every scratch, every transition is executed with surgical precision and creative flair. He’s a master at work, weaving texture and rhythm into the band’s sonic fabric in a way few can.

Kritikl doesn’t just add to the sound — he defines it, giving Tadpole that unmistakable edge that made them stand out all those years ago and still does today.

The mix in the room is glorious. Big, warm, and professional. The only nitpick — perhaps a touch more sparkle in the lighting would have elevated the atmosphere further, but that’s splitting hairs.

They rip through the classics — Blind, No Man, You Know It — one after another, every track a reminder of just how strong their songwriting really was.

The crowd, though small, sings along like it’s 2002 again. Then, in the middle of the set, they drop something new — a track called Falling Into You. It’s brilliant. Fresh but still undeniably Tadpole. Anthemic, emotional, and expertly crafted.

If Falling doesn’t hit number one, it’ll be a shame. It deserves to. That track blew my mind!

As the night draws to a close, they surprise us again, launching into a cover of Livin’ on a Prayer. In true Tadpole style, they make it their own — playful, powerful, and perfectly judged. It’s a clever nod to their influences and a moment of pure joy that leaves everyone grinning.

When the lights come up, I can’t help but feel grateful. The room might not have been full, but it didn’t matter. The cost-of-living crisis might be keeping crowds at home, but those of us who made the effort were rewarded with a show worthy of any full-house arena. Tadpole played like pros — no shortcuts, no phoning it in — just pure, passionate performance.

It was one of those nights that remind you why live music still matters. The sound was fat and warm, the energy infectious, and the musicianship world-class.

Lauren Marshall was a revelation, Chris Yong a virtuoso, Dean Lawton and Rom Smith the backbone every Rock band dreams of, and DJ Kritikl — a master turntablist — the creative glue holding it all together.