Train – Auckland Town Hall: May 28, 2025 (13th Floor Concert Review)
Auckland was in full chaos mode. Rain poured down on a Wednesday at the final days of NZ music month, and just up the road from Auckland Town Hall, a surprise Lorde pop-up gig had fans scrambling to find the right queue. But inside the Town Hall, something entirely different was unfolding — a night of emotional release, golden nostalgia, and arena-worthy charm.
It was the final stop of Train’s Australian leg, and opening for them was none other than Mel Parsons, who, the very next day, would be up for Album of the Year at the Aotearoa Music Awards for her record Sabotage.
Mel Parsons
Mel Parsons walked onto the stage solo, glowing in soft golden light, acoustic guitar in hand. She didn’t need much more. Her mellow set was laced with dry Kiwi humour and quiet heartbreak. I remember last seeing her at Q Theatre, June last year. I remember her saying — If you don’t know… most of my songs are sad, she joked early on. And that was the essence of Mel: touching your heart with melodramatic tones and lyrics, with sprinkles of living room humour in between tracks.
One of her opening songs, 5432, set the tone: reflective, raw, and gorgeously sparse. She performed the entire set solo without the aid of her band, and while there was some light chatter in the crowd (it was an interesting choice for an opener—Mel’s mellowness is a contrast to Train’s fast-paced tracks), her voice still cut through—especially during songs like Little Sadness, my personal favourite from Sabotage.
She gave a shout out to her mum, who apparently made sure to promote her upcoming June 6th show, and introduced her latest single Brick By Brick, which she proudly noted contains the most Kiwi lyric of all time: yeah, nah. It got some smiles and knowing laughs from the crowd — pure Aotearoa.
One of the standout emotional moments came with Tiny Days, a song dedicated to the parents in the room — and yes, there were quite a few. It was inspired by her own children, and despite some ongoing audience murmur, the lyrics resonated. It was one of those quiet songs that doesn’t need volume to leave a mark, and the acoustics at the Town Hall made sure her voice really touched the hearts of those who listened.
Near the end, she asked the crowd if they wanted something mellow or upbeat. The crowd chose upbeat. She smirked and quipped, You should definitely follow me on tour, a cheeky nod to her usual repertoire. She wrapped up with Far Far Away, inviting a clap-along that finally got even the talkers engaged. It was the perfect closer for a set that balanced melancholy with charm — and left the crowd ready for what was to come.
Train
As the lights dimmed after a dozen bangers from the early 2000s filled the gap between sets, the stage bathed in flickering light. The atmosphere inside the Auckland Town Hall shifted into something electric. Then came the first chords of Calling All Angels, and the crowd erupted in recognition. Pat Monahan strolled onto the stage with that signature mix of humility and swagger, instantly turning a big venue into something that felt personal. The man doesn’t just sing songs — he hosts memories.
From there, Train shifted into Meet Virginia, and for a moment, the entire room was transported back to the late ’90s. Monahan’s vocals have aged like wine — seasoned, soulful, and still able to carry the full emotional weight of their lyrics. His stage presence was magnetic, weaving stories and songs together like an old-school troubadour with stadium-level charisma.
They kept things moving with Save Me, San Francisco, a high-energy favourite that brought a West Coast bounce to the night. The crowd swayed and shouted the lyrics like a ritual, arms raised, drinks in hand. It wasn’t just a performance — it was a shared release.
During their shows in Australia, Train had been slipping in newer tracks like AM Gold and Running Back (Trying to Love You), and Monahan kept that momentum alive in Auckland. These songs held their own next to the classics, proving Train isn’t just riding a wave of past hits — they’re still creating fresh material that resonates. AM Gold, in particular, hit like a love letter to the genre that shaped their sound: smooth, vibrant, and radio-ready.
But of course, it was the classics that sent the place into orbit.
The moment Hey, Soul Sister began, a collective gasp ran through the audience. That tiny ukulele riff was all it took to trigger a flood of nostalgia. For me, that song was a primary school anthem — we sang it every Friday at assembly. You could feel everyone tapping into their own version of that memory. Monahan didn’t even need to sing the chorus — he just smiled and watched us take over like a proud older brother. To top it off, they blended the song mid-way with Come and Get Your Love by Redbone, giving it an unexpected funk twist that worked so well, it should probably be permanent.
Drive By was another crowd-pleaser, but the band took it one step further — mashing it up with Hey Jude by The Beatles. It could’ve felt gimmicky, but somehow it worked perfectly. The audience went from yelling lyrics to softly chanting na-na-na-na like they were being tucked in by the spirit of Lennon himself.
Marry Me brought a sudden hush over the crowd. For one of the few moments of the night, people stopped recording, stopped whispering, and just listened. The stillness was striking.
And then, just as we thought we’d get a breather before an encore, Monahan turned the format on its head:
I used to pretend the show was over and walk backstage, but I don’t know how much time I’ve got left — so imma just get to it.
No encore games. Just honesty. He thanked New Zealand for being part of the tour, and then dropped the line that truly sealed the deal:
Much more better than Australia.
The room exploded. It was cheeky, sure — but you could tell he meant it. He loved this crowd.
Then came a complete tonal shift with a surprise cover of Hotel California. Monahan swapped the mic for the drum kit while the guitarists came alive, taking turns shredding at each corner of the stage in a perfectly choreographed jam session. It felt spontaneous, raw, and fun — like we were watching a band that still genuinely loves playing together after all these years.
And just when it felt like the night couldn’t go higher, the band faked a “technical glitch.” The lights dipped, the music cut out, and Monahan proposed something wild:
Let’s sing Drops of Jupiter a cappella.
And we did. The entire crowd took the first verse. Voices cracked, blended, clashed — and none of that mattered. It was about the moment. Then the band roared back in, perfectly timed, to lift us through the rest of the song. During the final na na na na na, Monahan stepped back, arms open, letting the audience carry the emotional peak home.
From acoustic ballads to funk mashups, from heartfelt crowd singalongs to impromptu jams — this was a night where past and present held hands and danced.
And trust me: we all left humming na na na na na, a little lighter than when we walked in.
Click on any image to view a photo gallery by Michael Jeong:
Train:
Mel Parsons:
