Mundi – Ponsonby Social Club: November 15, 2025 (13th Floor Concert Review)
On a cool spring evening in Tamaki Makaurau, a city rocked by a malaise that’s heightened by the sudden change in weather, Mundi, the world fusion outfit hailing from Lyttleton, is hoping to bring some warmth to the Ponsonby Social Club.
They’re supported, and sometimes aided by Kra Ko To Kra, a local drumming club bringing some African and Brazilian bounce to the Ponsonby Social Club.
Kra Ko To Kra
The 6 band members set up in front of stage on the dance floor made up of three standing bongo drummers, one dunun (a drum played horizontally) and a drummer with 3 or 4 standing drums hit with sticks of varying pitch and tone keeping the main beat, plus a percussionist on cow bell or maracas.
For five numbers the ensemble pound and beat their way through the polyrhythmic universe creating elaborate sounds with changes in angle of open hand and the base of the wrist. Band members regularly switch positions, and equipment, bringing with it a change in tempo and timbre.
Amazingly the three standing drums bring something of a melody above steady rhythms from the others with occasional singing and chanting adding to the vibe.
Sometimes the lighter drums are conversing in a call and response and the group bring a well-organised, but free-spirited jam-like feel to their music.
The small crowd are eager and receptive and take little prompting to clap out a rhythm in time to the beat. One audience member is encouraged to show off her dance moves in the cauldron of drummers, her arms and legs piping, hands flying in all directions and head jerking in time.
Kra Ko To Kra stir the primeval forces lurking within us all that can’t help but bump along as if to a heartbeat pulsing through the lifeblood of centuries of culture.
Mundi
The bar has filled with a mixed crowd of varying ages. There are well-heeled Ponsonby-ites rubbing shoulders with dreadlocks and some even dressed in lighter attire far too flimsy for such a chilly evening.
They’re obviously in the know, for what comes this way from Mundi is something of a heatwave to a frigid November evening in one of the cooler suburbs of Aotearoa’s largest city.
The four band members are Chris Dabinett on guitar, percussion and dance moves, Ricardo Stuani on drums, bassist Mike Story and Tamara Smith on flutes, percussion, leg kicks and dance, and crowd-leader on various audience participation ventures, They don’t hang about in warming things up.
Tamara has a range of flutes and the first she pulls out is a double shafted affair that produces two notes simultaneously which she employs skillfully creating a Celtic sounding melody until the band slip in with a funkier rhythm.
The crowd are dancing from the get-go and the area in front of stage is full. Yet Tamara can’t resist urging the crowd to come further forward so she can see their smiling faces.
And smile they do as Mundi lead us on a dance through a fusion of Afro jazz, Latin American funky rhythms, a sprinkle of Gypsy, a dusting of prog rock in a spicy, mouth-watering melange that loosely translates as World Music.
The modus operandi varies as some numbers are introduced with Tamara’s mellifluous flute meandering over shimmering drums before a sudden thwack of kick drum, guitar and bass announces the real reason we’re here. Others start off with a jumping vibe that keeps up a relentless pace that seems like an eternity, but feels not so long once its over.
There are reggae-infused tracks, samba, bossa nova, gypsy whirls. There’s some percussion-led numbers, sparse in their make-up but rich in rhythm and drowning in beats. There’s singing, dancing, whoops, guitar solos, drum solos and other sounds that couldn’t possibly emanate from such a small group. Churchill’s quote about so much owed by so many to so few springs to mind as the band do their best to keep the dark forces of cold and despair at the door.
Over this is Tamara and her flutes, or on a bongo drum, or dancing or leading the crowd through a refrain or hand waving move. Her smile and energy are infectious and the eager audience are soon completely contaminated.
The dancing gets more animated as the heat builds. At times it seems half the group have leapt from the stage (not a great height) and have joined the fray or leading a conga line around the small but perfectly formed Ponsonby Social Club.
Through it all Tamara keeps up the connection with the crowd, putting them under her spell.
The aptly-named track Pied Piper has the audience swaying their arms or following her dance moves as the band builds to a jazzy crescendo, then suddenly stops with a leg kick from Tamara.
We’re dancing in a Rio Carnival one moment, grooving in the arid plains of Africa the next. Then we’re spinning around a campfire in the Balkans or jumping to a ska-style beat.
From wherever this music comes is of no importance, but where it takes us is not readily explained. We’ve been on a sonic, rhythmic, frantic, frenetic trip around the world.
This is pure joy.
Alex Robertson
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