Marlon Williams and KOMMI – Spark Arena: June 21, 2025
It’s old time waiata on the sound system as Spark Arena fills. This wouldn’t be my choice of venue, I mutter within, descending the steep concrete steps, feet sticking to concrete floor from accumulations of beer spillage at past shows. I want to see Marlon Williams, but not here. But by the end, I see that this was in fact the place.
As the crowd grows, it’s an audience that better reflects the demographics of Auckland than most shows. A wide slice of diversity.
Thoughts reach back to my first encounter with Marlon: in The Unfaithful Ways, opening for Band of Horses in 2010. A teenager whose trajectory neither he nor we anticipated. Some journey from support act at the Powerstation to a sold out arena.
But that’s only part of tonight’s story. Only one song in English. This is a night of celebrating Matariki and the cementing of te reo Māori at the heart of our place
Ngā Mātai Pūrua
First up is Melbourne-based kapa haka group, Ngā Mātai Pūrua. A karanga. Two conch blown. There’s is wairua and ihi here. A collective exorcism of anything secular about the stage. A clearing the way for what is to come.
KOMMI
The recent documentary Ngā ao e Rua charted Marlon’s journey of finding a place in two worlds. A central figure in that journey – KOMMI – takes the stage. Performer, mentor, composer, lecturer in indigenous studies. Wide-brimmed hat spiked with feathers. What looks like a kilt and a swirling sound of incantations begins.
A song called Hoha dedicated to Rawiri Seymour. Hints of Gil Scott-Heron and Sly Stone says the observer next to me. It’s a potent brew of jazz, rap and not-sure-what-else. KOMMI keeps me guessing.
They tells us a song title translates to Food for the Maggots. Themes of maketu & friendship, accompanied by a fine-voiced wahine, guitar, bass and drums.
The dancing seems shamanic, Cree-like. Mere held and quivering. Marlon sneaks in half-disguised in track pants and a beanie-rapping and moving his towering frame in impossible ways.
Marlon Williams and the Yarra Benders
Suddenly its Marlon. Besuited and looking sharp. As always. Both celebrity and the guy next door.
In the dimmed light, a single spotlight beams down on the lone 34 year old with the velvet then soaring voice.
Filling the cavernous arena with opening waiata, Me Uaua Kē. Then E Mawehe Ana Au. A rare reverence fills the space. No hint of the usual background chatter as artists begin.
He picks up and plucks an acoustic guitar for Ko Tēnā Ua, softly accompanying his honeyed vocals. Is there a more exquisite voice in this land?
The Yarra Benders join him. Dave Khan (violin, keyboard, guitar), Ben Woolley (bass) and Gus Agars (drums). Marlon’s long-time band. You can tell. They are tight, very tight. Adding harmonies. And, as Marlon says, they “took the plunge into unfamiliar depths”: three Pākehā leaning into their main man’s call into the te reo journey.
Fourth song in, it’s My Boy, a reminder of William’s back catalogue. A nod to his poppier side. The only song in English tonight. And nobody’s complaining. Even here, there’s that Māori strum that reaches back through generations of performances and backyard sing-alongs.
His first kōrero with the crowd. There’s bigger things than this arena. We’re here for this. Enigmatic. A probable nod to the ascendency of te reo and the embrace of te ao Māori, despite all the naysayers and close-down politicians.
There’s banter from then on. Shout outs to an aunty in the crowd. A complement to the maker of his bolo tie, a dumb joke about a cat as he ascends to the piano, grandly placed at a higher level. Marlon our mate as well as Marlon the professional. Two worlds again.
He tells us Ngā Ara Aroha is a kind of Leonard Cohen song, but clearly not as good. Then ad libs the first few lines in a Cohen-esque voice before the glorious song itself. The full stretch of new album Te Whare Tīwekaweka continues.
We get Kei te Marama. A break up song, he says. I’m so sad I wrote this before we even got together. A big nod to his inspiration, the late Hirini Melbourne, with Rongomai. He knew that the way to keep the reo alive was to compose songs to be sung.
While Lyttleton looms large in his story, playing to a sold out crowd here in Tāmaki Makarau at the nation’s largest arena is clearly still a homecoming.
Any requests? A cacophony of suggestions from among the thousands. He discerns Arahura: surely the more beautiful song of a river borne of this land. The Benders quietly return to the stage join in.
He tells of taking the ferry to Diamond Harbour with his mum, just to see Lyttleton from a distance, seeing its beauty again as a child, when times got tough.
Perspective. Everything is the way the world is seen and felt. Tonight, the aroha and wairua of this man and his deep dive into te reo touches the crowd.
On Huri Te Whenua, the impressive kapa haka group returns. Barely standing room on the stage. The pure gusto of Korero Māori, swinging poi, whites of eyes. Gusto. Has the Spark Arena stage ever been to emphatically filled?
Back for an encore. Whakameatia Mai. Just Marlon and the Benders around a mic, Ben Woolley taking a verse. Evidence of the journey. His longtime friends embracing the reo with confidence.
The all back on stage to end an extraordinary evening.
Te reo in the spotlight and an arena-wide assent to its place at the centre of who we are.
One man carrying along a coming of age. We are ngā ao e rua. And richer for it.
Robin Kearns
Click on any image to view a photo gallery by Azrie Azizi:
Marlon Williams:
KOMMI:
Ngā Mātai Pūrua:
