There is a certain kind of concert that transcends the music itself, where the room, the people, and the performers fuse into something bigger than any one of them could manufacture alone. Mumford & Sons delivered exactly that at Spark Arena on Saturday night, and anyone who walked in with modest expectations walked out a convert.
The evening began well before the headline act took the stage. Brooklyn-based lo-fi folk artist Hudson Freeman opened proceedings with a quiet, disarming set. Freeman told the crowd how honoured he was to be supporting Mumford & Sons, a band he had been a fan of since he was about twelve years old. I’m Most Me and his viral single If You Know Me were delivered with passion and very quickly drew in an early attentive crowd. As part of his set, Hudson covered of what he considered the greatest song of all time, Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones and delivered it perfectly.
Folk Bitch Trio followed with equal warmth and considerably more fire. Visibly moved to be touring alongside Mumford & Sons across the full Australian and New Zealand leg, they channelled that gratitude into a set that felt genuinely special. Cathode Ray, from their New Zealand-written album, was a particular highlight, crystalline vocals and razor-sharp harmonies that stopped the room. Their newer tracks showed a band growing in confidence, and they closed with God’s Different Sword, leaving the audience wanting more.
Before a single note was played, Auckland laid down its own welcome. A Māori pōwhiri opened the evening, a moment of cultural grounding that set an unexpectedly emotional tone for what was to come. When Marcus Mumford and his band finally emerged, it was to the swaggering strains of Johnny Cash’s Ring of Fire piped through the PA, before they launched straight into the set with barely a breath. The message was clear: we are not here to waste your time.
And Mumford meant it literally. “We’re not here to f**k around,” he told the sold-out crowd before I Will Wait, “and if you want to get up and dance – do it.” They did.
The setlist leaned heavily on the new album Prizefighter, but the band were careful to honour the catalogue that packed this arena. Babel and White Blank Page had thousands singing in unison, the latter a communal moment that felt almost devotional. Rushmere drew a roar of recognition. Then came Lover of the Light, with Mumford himself sliding behind the drum kit, a flex that landed with the crowd exactly as intended.
“Crazy bunch of Kiwi motherf**kers!” he bellowed, grinning from ear to ear. It is, frankly, impossible not to love this man.
The new material held its own. Prizefighter and Badlands translated ferociously to the live arena, and Believe was a standout, the guitar work furiously energetic, the crowd surging, Mumford leaping off the stage to press the flesh at the front barrier. But it was Ditmas that produced the night’s most joyously absurd moment: Marcus suddenly sprinting to the rear of the arena, bounding up the stairs through the general admission crowd, singing the entire time, moving with the grace and speed of a gazelle. He made a lot of people’s nights right there.
The Cave brought the phones aloft, as the entire arena tried to capture this moment forever. It is one of those songs that earns its place in any setlist without argument.
The B-stage set was where the evening shifted gear entirely. Mumford asked, and somehow received, a moment of genuine quiet from a packed arena, which is no small feat. Three of the band gathered around a single microphone for an acoustic and intimate rendition of Timshel. Then Folk Bitch Trio rejoined them on the B-stage for Rubber Band Man, a version so heartfelt and stripped back it felt like an entirely different song. The crowd, having obligingly hushed themselves, leaned in.
The night also belonged to The Boxer, a standout performance of the Paul Simon classic that underscored just how versatile and genuinely talented these musicians are. Then, heading back to the main stage, Mumford paused just long enough to pull on an All Blacks jersey, not that he needed any more goodwill from a crowd already completely besotted.
The encore was unambiguous: The Banjo Song, a thunderous Little Lion Man, and finally Conversations with My Son, sending ten thousand people out into the Auckland night in a state of euphoric disbelief.
The production deserves a word. Prizefighter-branded logos hung from the ceiling, clean, considered, understated. There were no elaborate set pieces or distracting video walls clamouring for attention. There didn’t need to be. The spectacle was the band, the energy, the movement, the extraordinary vocal performances and the relentless warmth of the crowd interaction.
Mumford delivered the line that will be quoted in Auckland for years: “If I could only tour one country for the rest of my life, it would be New Zealand, I f**king love this place. If you keep asking us, we’ll keep coming back.”
You don’t need to be a Mumford & Sons devotee to walk into one of their concerts. You will, however, be one by the time you walk out. This show had everything, joy, spontaneity, genuine musicianship, and a frontman who captured the hearts of everyone in the room from the moment he stepped on stage until he left. Hold him to his word, Auckland. Keep asking.
Review by Kerrie Evans
Photography by Leonie Moreland
Mumford & Sons
Folk Bitch Trio
Hudson Freeman
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