Tyler, The Creator – Spark Arena: August 18, 2025 (13th Floor Concert Review)
Tyler, The Creator, Lil Yachty and Paris Texas…three acts, one night, and enough energy to feel like a festival in itself.
Tyler really spoiled us by bringing some of the most exciting names in alternative hip-hop to Auckland. The crowd showed up in true Tyler fashion—IGOR suits and blonde wigs, GOLF merch, fuzzy ushankas—each fan a walking piece of Tyler’s universe. His music has always given us permission to be weird, and tonight he reminded us how powerful alternative music can be when it moves both body and spirit.
Paris Texas
For film lovers, their name already rings with mystery, pulled from Wim Wenders’ Paris, Texas (1984). Their sound matches that mood: unpredictable, chaotic, and thrillingly alive.
This was my second time catching the duo, after Laneway 2023 where they dove straight into the crowd. They wasted no time tonight either—by song three, they demanded a pit, and the arena obeyed. The robotic intro bled into a storm of metal-infused rap while the two designed the euphoria.
Heavy Metal and Force of Habit were undeniable highlights. Their playful, almost whimsical energy felt like stepping into a surreal David Lynch film—strange, dreamlike, yet irresistibly magnetic. The movements on stage pulled you in, making it impossible not to want to dance alongside them. And then came their ultimate flex: commanding the entire crowd to drop down to the ground, only to explode back into the air in unison—all so effortlessly. Watching from above, I felt pure envy. Never in my life have I burned so badly with the urge to leap off the mezzanine just to be part of that chaos.
Each song built into a new scene. They played with the crowd the way directors play with frames: flashlights strobing, arms waving, phones glowing like fireflies. Their second-to-last track hit like a heavy-metal outro, bathed in flashing lights, before they pulled out their final trick—roof strobes that exploded the arena into a full-blown disco.
Paris Texas had the best crowd control of the night. Maybe it was the fact that they weren’t just one person alone on stage—they bounced energy between each other, laughing, hyping, egging on the madness while their DJ added fuel. Their performance wasn’t choreographed—it was alive, morphing, contagious. They bent the crowd to their will: clapping, waving, crouching low, leaping sky-high on command. Their mosh pits weren’t just pits—they were eruptions, rivaling even Tyler’s in sheer force.
For a crowd filled with restless teenagers and twenty-somethings dying to release energy, Paris Texas lit the match.
Lil Yachty
Yachty followed with the intention to raise the energy, but Paris Texas was a hard act to top. Drenched in purple light, projected in grainy black-and-white, Yachty took the stage alone in a green dress and oversized boots that looked like chunky Uggs. His whole aesthetic screamed retro simplicity, like rewinding to a less complicated era.
The crowd still vibed. He asked—almost nonchalantly—for a pit, and it opened. He sounded sharper live than on record, backed by pulsing lights. Then came the nostalgia hits: Broccoli turned the arena into a giant singalong, a flashback to the days when TikTok was still Musical.ly. iSpy had everyone bouncing again.
Between songs, Yachty thanked the crowd for staying with him, grateful they hadn’t slipped out for a smoke or bathroom break. That humility cut through his laid-back presence. He closed with A Cold Sunday, leaving the stage as a loop of his name echoed behind him. Then came a 20-minute pause—the calm before Tyler.
These intermissions felt like rushed breaths as the crowd never stopped moving. It almost became overwhelming—but in the best type of way.
Tyler, The Creator
And then, the storm arrived. Tyler Okonma walked out in head-to-toe yellow, save for his crisp white high-top Converse, and the arena erupted.
This was my second time seeing him—the first being his Call Me If You Get Lost tour in 2022, his triumphant return to New Zealand after years of being banned for fear of “riot influence.” That show was feral, explosive, a long-awaited exhale. Tonight felt different. Tyler was more composed, but no less magnetic. He gave the sense of an artist deep in control of his craft, choosing to wield chaos rather than simply unleash it.
Fresh off releasing Don’t Tap the Glass, Tyler arrived possessed. The visuals hit like a fever dream: fireworks, sparklers, lights flooding every corner of Spark Arena. The crowd chanted Chromakopia like a ritual incantation, feeding Tyler until his cap dripped sweat.
After four songs, he slowed it down. The lights softened into a lazy disco glow, and Tyler sat, telling the story of a girl before slipping into Judge Judy. He spoke about masks—how we hide behind them, how mirrors don’t always reflect the truth of who we are—and launched into Take Your Mask Off. It was touching, disarming, a rare quiet in a storm of sound.
Then came nostalgia. He jumped back to the records that built his career. He mentioned that these songs—records dating back to his departure from Odd Future—had somehow carried him to a sold-out arena at the far corner of the world. And everyone was there for it: Earfquake, a tease of She that included Frank Ocean’s verse, IFHY, Lumberjack and Wusyaname. The crowd screamed every word.
It was then I realised: Tyler will be remembered as an icon. His discography stretches so wide that he didn’t even touch some of my personal favourites—I THINK and Who Dat Boy—yet still delivered a set that felt overflowing. He spoils us, and the world will forever be in his debt.
The final act was pure theatre. Tyler moved across the stage like a crooked figure kept alive by rhythm alone to the tracks of Don’t Tap The Glass, his body language as expressive as his lyrics. His dance moves were unpolished, raw, like the way you’d dance if no one was watching. And that was the magic: Tyler performed as though he wasn’t putting on a show, but simply existing as himself.
Tracks from Don’t Tap The Glass urged everyone to dance and vibe, and tracks like Ring Ring Ring and Sugar On My Tongue made it easy. Tyler’s new record is definitely the best to dance to even if you weren’t familiar with the lyrics like myself for 50% of the tracks played.
He ofcourse followed up by his most popular tracks ever from Flowerboy: See you again. The crowd unleashed a roar after clocking the alternative intro. Then, it was followed by NEW MAGIC WAND. His performance of this track at the 2020 Grammy awards will forever live rent free in my mind, and tonight he gave the song justice with the same energy.
If there was one letdown, it was the absence of the full Chromakopia costume, and the fact that Auckland couldn’t host the bigger, wilder stage setups Tyler brings to the U.S.—no towering containers, no skywalks hanging over the crowd. Spark Arena’s square stage with its catwalk, fireworks, sparklers, and blinding lights still made for a spectacle—but you could tell Tyler is built for stages bigger than this city can yet provide.
Compared to 2022, he seemed more tame—less banter, no playful disses, fewer observations about the crowd. He was locked in, focused on packing as much of his sprawling catalogue into two hours as possible. But his effort was undeniable. He gave 110%, and the sweat dripping down his cap was proof enough.
Tyler didn’t just perform. He reminded us why he remains vital: because he refuses to repeat himself, because he builds worlds instead of sets, because every note, every move, every breath feels lived-in and true.
And Auckland—sweaty, screaming, breathless—left Spark Arena knowing they had witnessed more than a concert. They had stepped inside Tyler’s imagination.
Azrie Azizi
