25/03/2026

Counting Crows – Kiri Te Kanawa Theatre (Aotea Centre): March 24, 2026 (13th Floor Concert Review)

Counting Crows brought their 90s rock and roll nostalgic charm to the Kiri Te Kanawa Theatre, Aotea Centre for the second evening of their The Complete Sweets! Tour of New Zealand and Australia last night. It follows the release of their most recent album Butter Miracle, The Complete Sweets! in May 2025, which they’ve been touring since mid last year, finally bringing it down under this month.

With two sold-out shows in Auckland, the second added after the obvious demand, concert-goers clearly still have an appetite for live music, even when cost pressures and fuel prices are seemingly headed upwards. It reminded me that music is important, it brings us together and helps us carve a corner of the world out to forget it all, even if it’s only for a few hours.

That’s what I ventured out into the Auckland evening to experience, and be part of, but in reality I found a crowd that failed to support the artists and, in return, a somewhat lacklustre version of the tunes I know and love. What was evident was the musicianship of Counting Crows, and their professionalism in trying to give even the most uninspiring of audiences their money’s worth with fluctuating levels of energy and care offered back.

MACEY

Auckland-based singer-songwriter MACEY (Harry Parsons) and his band warmed up the crowd with their soul-infused folk with a hint of pop flavour. A highlight was his newest single Clementine, which felt like it hit at the moment he finally forgot that he was performing to a half-packed theatre – with more people streaming in the whole time – and poured himself all the way into crafting his sound.

They played a slightly lukewarm cover of When You Were Young by The Killers that, while beautifully played, didn’t offer anything new. After this, they moved through an emotional selection of songs, starting with MACEY’s most-streamed single before you have to go, a tribute to his dad, then Call It Even about a breakup, and Unrequited Love about an almost-but-not-quite relationship.

MACEY provided a reasonable warm-up for the headliner of the evening, preparing the audience for a set full of rock ballads.

Counting Crows

Frontman Adam Duritz led Counting Crows onto the stage while it was still shrouded in mysterious velvety-blue lighting, to the loud cheers of the audience. They took a minute to set up their instruments, then erupted into Mr. Jones, one of the band’s most popular hits from their debut 1993 album. Duritz struggled to start off with a solid vocal sound and, in a bold move for a first song, he turned his mic to the audience for them to sing along to the chorus. He warmed up quickly, bringing his signature raw, emotive vocal sound to the stage.

After an upbeat Mrs. Potters Lullaby, they played a song from their new album, Spaceman In Tulsa. It was the first moment where the band felt a more connected appreciation from the audience, and they dissolved their layers of musicianship into one shared soundscape, heartened by the response. They then moved silkily into the purple-and-pink-lit Virginia Through The Rain, the first true crooning ballad of the set.

For Omaha, Charlie Gillingham switched from the twinkling piano to the accordion, stalking across the stage with his red instrument glowing in the spotlight. He was the true star of the song, his showmanship on full display, and the crowd ate it up. It was a brilliant example of musicality happening live before their eyes – which deserved more attention and adoration than it received.

The band played Cover Up The Sun, then straight into the ballad If I Could Give All My Love -or- Richard Manuel is Dead. Duritz wandered over to lead guitarist Dan Vickrey partway through the song, mic in hand. The band stopped. The duo took up the space to sing in harmony together, shared emotion emanating outwards from them.

The next section of songs went by in a melting blur, with old favourites, new songs, and the in-between, strung together in a fairly homogenous muddle of rock ballads and softer tunes. Broken up by Angels of the Silences with its more energetic edge and gospel-like four-part vocal harmonies. The crowd were reinjected with energy when the band launched into their cover of Big Yellow Taxi (covering Joni Mitchell). It lost some of the gravitas of their Hard Candy album’s rendition, and the scattered people who had stood up at the beginning of the song all awkwardly sat down by the end. As though they forgot that, while famous, the song isn’t so much a dance number as a soulful one about loss.

Round Here/Raining In Baltimore invigorated the crowd and Duritz returned their energy with excellent vocals. After Boxcars, the crew wheeled an upright piano onto the stage and the frontman sat down to play The 1 (covering Taylor Swift) and A Long December at the front of the stage. The lighting dipped, and he was alone on stage for a moment, freely sharing his emotions to the people gathered in front of him. It was beautiful. Heavy with emotion. Filled with passion and skill. And disappointingly disregarded by the audience.

The upright piano was wheeled off-stage for set-closer Rain King. It started with a feature of Jim Bogios on the drums and Duritz waving his arms to the sky like he was worshipping his fans in return for standing up and joining him in his final song, that symbiotic energy captured for a moment. I wonder why we couldn’t have this level of returned connection from the audience all evening. The frontman ended with his hands up and laughing at the ceiling as if it was raining inside, full of a passion for music I only caught glimpses of last night.

There were no yells of “encore,” just loud screams aimed at the stage. However, the seasoned band understood the demand, so they returned for their final three songs of the night. Starting slow with Under The Aurora heavily featuring David Immerglück on bass and vocals, moving to the popular and more upbeat Hanginaround, then, for the finisher, Holiday In Spain.

While experts in their craft, I was left wanting something more after the concert. We need these live events – music that has heart and soul entwined – to keep us connected as people with shared experiences. But when we treat it like just another evening, an international headlining act to tick off the list, an anecdote to tell our coworkers or family about, we lose that soul. We rip that heart to pieces.

The evening was lacklustre and didn’t fit my expectations of Counting Crows and their thirty-five years of expert musicianship. But, the music wasn’t bad by any means, it just felt like perhaps the crowd in front of them wasn’t worthy of a more heartfelt performance. Maybe the band looked out into the half-heartedly swaying theatre and questioned if this is really what they get after more than thirty years of making music together for the masses.

A crowd that stood, in patches, then stayed as still as trees with their feet rooted in place, not dancing or connecting to the band for most of the night. A crowd that threw up a hand now and then, gesturing towards the stage in a half-hearted wave. A crowd that repeatedly screamed their back catalogue of songs towards the stage like they were at a pub heckling a local cover artist to “please play my favourite song!”

Live music is a symbiotic, living, co-created affair. There were glimpses of the audience playing their role: singing along to the well-known tracks, dancing to Mr. Jones, trying to wave their hands or clap in time with the band. In those moments, Counting Crows were at their best. I was transported to a time and place where going out to a gig or concert was the highlight of the week. A time where there weren’t phones waved in the air the moment the most popular songs played.

Last night, momentarily, I felt that thrill of nostalgia and yearning punctuated with pinpoints of joy. I felt part of something greater than just individual bodies sitting on bright red fold-down cushioned seats.

Last night was an evening where skilled, masterful musicians turned up ready to wow a crowd – but found cardboard cutouts in their place. Duritz proclaimed at the end of the show that they’ll be coming back – let’s give them a better response at the next one, Auckland. I’m sure the band will repay it in kind.

E.J. Rzepecky

Click on any image to view a photo gallery by Chris Zwaagdyk:

Counting Crows: