Ash Grunwald – Tuning Fork: May 30, 2025 (13th Floor Concert Review)
The devil came to the Tuning Fork tonight. He said his name was Ash Grunwald and he spoke with an Aussie accent, but when he sang it was with such power and soul that no earthly being could muster such a voice.
And when he played guitar the bass notes thrummed and hummed while the high notes wailed and screamed like a banshee from hell itself.
And when he performed it seemed a contradiction that something so wickedly enchanting and and diabolically beguiling could emanate from a being so wholesome, handsome and pleasant.
And humble!.
He appeared on stage with no fanfare or introduction. He just sat on his cajun and fiddled with some cables.
“He walked onstage looking like he just got home,” somebody quipped.
Then suddenly he had a guitar in hand and ripped into the Howlin’ Wolf classic Smokestack Lightning. The guitar crashed through those familiar chords and that voice howled…
Whoa, smokestack lightnin’
Shinin’ just like gold
Why don’t you hear me cryin’?
A-whoo-hoo, a-whoo-hoo, whoo.
It was like the blues legend had possessed this man before us, belting out his pain and suffering.
But the devil turned to Ash, into that big bundle of Australian healthy, relaxed wellbeing. And he’s telling us a story about the next song.
It’s from real life he tells us recounting how he was surfing with a buddy when a shark appeared and how they planned to fight it off. But a pod of dolphins appeared and guided them to safety.
It’s a song full of humour and charm and… dolphin noises. Grunwald’s mastery of that mysterious sound is uncanny.
And now he has us under his spell.
He’s thanking us for turning up suggesting we’re infected with the Grunwald bug.
“I want everyone to sing,” he says in that familiar twang, “with a hammer in my hand.”
And suddenly 500 souls who’d packed the Tuning Fork on a wet and windy winter’s night are singing along with this demon and he’s smiling at us.
He knows we’re his!
He’s telling us how he loves living his dream playing music and experiencing new things.
“It was so awesome to get to surf Raglan yesterday,” he tells us “Beautiful people down there lending me boards. Friendly people everywhere… And I love New Zealand people… nice people.”
He says all the right things and it works. The magic is working.
But now he’s getting a little emotional and that he’s missing his kids. And we miss them too, or we feel his pain. But it’s a trick to get us to sing with him on the next song, his 2021 single I want you to know.
“This is gonna make me cry,” he says before launching into the pop infused upbeat song as we happily do his bidding, singing along at the refrain.
How cynical he is. We’re feeling upbeat and teary at the same time. How could any normal human being be capable of such wizardry?
Now it’s time for reality as he introduces the next song by dedicating it to anyone who’s been in a long term horrible relationship “where the other person was definitely the bad one” before launching into his 2017 hit You ain’t my problem anymore, a classic blues number of foot stomping and hand clapping and defiance!’
“Thank you for supporting live music,” he’s charming us again. “It will disappear if you don’t support it.”
But who would lead us then if we couldn’t come and worship this fiend?
“This is my brand new single I’m gonna play for you now, it’s called Glide,” he’s saying. “And my long term fans you’re going to like it ‘cos it sounds like all my old shit.”
That humour and charm again. That’s how he tricks us.
And the song is so rocking and catchy. And he’s thoroughly enjoying every second throwing his head back exposing his too perfect teeth, smiling at us like a shark ready to devour its prey.
It’s time for Shake that thing, a jumping fun time track off his 2012 album Trouble’s Door.
When he’s had his fun, the mask is about to be ripped off as Grunwald recounts his introduction to the Devil’s music.
It’s another disarming amusing anecdote featuring his kids, about how he made them watch a movie about a boy who went to the crossroads and did a deal with the devil.
Is this autobiographical, I’m wondering.
“This is what I watched when I was 12 and I really think that movie, cheesy as it was with a soundtrack by Ry Cooder, and I really feel like it really did influence me,” he tells us. “ I’m gonna do my version of Crossroad Blues which is a little bit Ry Cooder.”
And Ry Cooder it is with sublime slide sounds soaring from his strings. It’s one thing to play standards and covers, and the blues is packed with such things, but to play them with such soul and beauty can only be the work of Satan.
There’s more singalongs and clapping, more covers and classics as Grunwald reels through favourites from his heroes and his own pen: we’re treated to Wolf’s How many more years – if you close your eyes it really could be the reincarnation; Life without you (as we sing “Don’t want nobody else”); Stop taking life so serious; Chains; Ain’t no sunshine; I believe in you (more clapping and singing from the crowd).
Before the final song he’s thanking us again.
“I didn’t even know if I should come back to NZ or not,” he declares. “A mate tried to talk me into it and at first I was like – ah no I don’t think I’ll pull anyone. And I’m very glad that I did, so thank you so much for turning out.”
Then launches into Money, an early number from 2006. The classic driving guitar, thumping kick drum and spine-tingling voice rocking this packed venue.
How does so much sound come from just one being? It’s a mystery that can never be explained when you’re swallowed up in the spirit of the thing. When you’re beyond caring the who, what and why of things, because we all really know that the devil is in the detail.
Alex Robertson
Click on any image to view a photo gallery by Chris Zwaagdyk:
Ash Grunwald:
Mark Crotti:
