Razorlight – Powerstation, 3 October 2026: Review & Photo Gallery

Kerrie Evans and Photos by Leonie Moreland

4th October 2026

Razorlight blew the roof off The Powerstation, and a 25‑year wait detonated in one night. Josh Braden set the tone with a warm, sunlit No Broadcast opener, then Razorlight hit the stage like they’d been storing energy for decades. Big riffs, bigger singalongs, and a crowd who knew every word: Auckland didn’t just welcome them back, it roared.

Josh Braden

Josh Braden’s solo set as No Broadcast felt like a pocket of summer in the middle of the evening. His soulful melodies and vocals seemed to draw the crowd into a mesmerised calm: the kind of music that suits a sunny afternoon, catching up with old friends and picking up conversations as though no time had passed.

He moved from So Far through Realise, Just, Loudest Whisper, The Shore and All And Now, then thanked the crowd, reminded us that Razorlight were coming up and that they were “pretty good” and gathered us together for a selfie at the end to capture the moment.

Razorlight

He had no need to worry about the headliners’ welcome. When Razorlight came on, the Powerstation answered with rapturous applause. Some of us had waited twenty year or more to see them. The band opened with Rip It Up and wasted no time reminding us why we had been waiting.

In The Morning landed beautifully. The crowd had clearly come prepared to remember the words, despite the song’s promise that “we won’t remember a thing”. Oh, we would, Johnny, don’t you worry about that.

Sugar High led into Stumble And Fall, where Johnny Borrell greeted Auckland and joked that it had taken them 25 years to say hello. By Golden Touch, the room’s finest singing voices were out in force. Vice and Can’t Stop sent the crowd jumping; the floor bounced beneath us, while Borrell beamed from ear to ear. He was loving every second.

The 20th-anniversary celebration of the band’s self-titled album was threaded through with fan favourites. Before I Fall To Pieces brought an additional percussionist into the mix, with the audience clapping along to become part of the rhythm section. In The City began with Borrell alone and his guitar. He seemed to sink into the lyrics, then, as the band joined, set the guitar aside and threw himself into the melody.

When he took off his shirt, the crowd got an extra reminder that the band’s energy, their talent and, apparently, Borrell’s 2006 physique had held up remarkably well.

There was no need for elaborate visuals. The Powerstation gave us a stage, the band and the lighting; the songs and the crowd did the rest. Wire To Wire offered a moment of pure class and calm, Borrell’s voice carrying the emotion before he checked in with us: “Are we alright?” Very much so, Johnny.

Hold On, Cool People, Pop Song and L.A. Waltz brought another wave of hands-in-the-air singing. For some of us, the songs carried us back to life in the UK, when indie rock bands ruled the moment. But the feeling belonged to everyone: Razorlight had a way of returning you to whatever time in your own life their music had soundtracked.

Before Don’t Go Back To Dalston, Borrell made a point of introducing the musicians on stage and saying there was no backing track. They might speed up or mess up, he said, but then they would get it right and thanked us for supporting live music. He set the crowd clapping to keep time, letting us provide the tempo ourselves. It was a lovely, direct reminder of what the night was: talented musicians playing live, connected to the room and to each other.

Somewhere Else seemed like a farewell, but Razorlight weren’t done and thankfully neither was The Powerstation. After the encore came Back To The Start, Good Night and, of course, America. Borrell asked us to make some noise so they could come back for a festival or another show. The response suggested the Powerstation would gladly have them again. Just don’t leave it another 25 years.