Live at The Civic
15 October 2026
Live Review by Music Journalist: Paul Marshall
JAMES AT THE CIVIC: Nine Musicians, Four Decades of Songs, and a Frontman Who Knows How to Command a Room.
Tim Booth and company turn Auckland’s Civic Theatre into a cathedral of sound, proving that some bands don’t simply play their songs, they bring them to life all over again.
A night of beautiful chaos
The Civic is one of my favourite venues in Auckland. The acoustics are magnificent, the architecture is spectacular, and there’s a little slice of cinematic history thrown in for good measure. This is, after all, the atmospheric theatre where our national hero Peter Jackson filmed the final scenes of King Kong. There’s something rather special about walking into a building that has witnessed both Hollywood magic and countless memorable musical performances.
Tonight, however, things are off to an unusual start.
As I arrive, the audience is scattered around the foyer, the bar is packed, and people are milling about as if there’s no particular hurry to get anywhere. Approaching the theatre, I notice the doors are closed. Strange. When an usher finally opens one for me, I discover that the support act is already playing.
Apparently, nobody sent the memo that the show had started.
Inside, Koen Aldershof is on stage, armed with a guitar and a set of songs, facing an audience that seems only partially aware of his existence. With plenty of punters still outside, it’s hardly the most welcoming environment for an opening act. Unfortunately, the room never quite comes around.
Aldershof eventually turns to a song familiar to anyone who grew up with British pop in the 1980s: Tears for Fears’ Everybody Wants to Rule the World. Stripped back to guitar and vocals, it’s an arrangement that leaves absolutely nowhere to hide. Tonight, the vocal delivery struggles to find its pitch, and the performance doesn’t quite land.
And with that, the support set is done and dusted.
But let's not dwell on the opening act. The real reason we’re here is about to take the stage.
James: The art of making music that matters
For more than four decades, Manchester's James have built a career on doing things their own way. Formed in 1982, the band emerged from the city's post-punk and independent music scene, eventually becoming one of Britain's most enduring alternative rock acts. Their music has never fitted neatly into one box, moving between introspective melancholy, expansive arrangements, unexpected instrumental flourishes and choruses capable of uniting an entire room.
Their 2026 Australian and New Zealand visit is particularly welcome, marking their first trip to this part of the world since 2018. For local fans, opportunities to see James live have been frustratingly few and far between. Tonight, they have a nine-piece musical machine in front of them, and it doesn't take long to realise that this is no nostalgia act going through the motions.
The band begins at a measured pace with Zero, followed by Way Over Your Head and Dream Thrum. Rather than immediately reaching for the biggest anthems, James takes its time, gradually building the atmosphere and allowing the audience to settle into the performance.
At the centre of it all is Tim Booth.
Some singers have voices you recognise. Others have voices that are so distinctive they become an instrument in their own right. Booth belongs firmly in the latter category. Whenever I've heard a new James track over the years, even without knowing the song, his voice has always been instantly recognisable. There's an unusual character to it: expressive, slightly otherworldly, emotionally direct and utterly his own.
Tonight, he's absolutely brilliant.
And while Booth might be the focal point, the nine musicians surrounding him are every bit as important to the overall sound. James isn't a frontman with a backing band; it's a collection of highly accomplished musicians who understand how to make a song breathe, expand and occasionally explode.
Many are multi-instrumentalists, moving between instruments and vocal parts with an ease that makes the arrangements seem almost effortless.
Take Saul Davies, for example, whom I had the pleasure of interviewing a couple of weeks ago. If you haven't read that conversation yet, it's well worth seeking out. Davies is a remarkably accomplished multi-instrumentalist, and tonight he demonstrates just how much he brings to the James sound, moving between guitar, violin and mandolin while contributing backing vocals.
It's a musical balancing act that would leave plenty of bands looking rather ordinary.
Then there's Debbie Knox-Hewson, whose musical versatility and commanding stage presence make her another standout. She works the stage with confidence, adding both rhythmic muscle and visual energy to a band that has no shortage of either.
The wider line-up is equally impressive. Andy Diagram delivers the distinctive trumpet flourishes that give James some of its signature colour, while Mark Hunter provides the keyboard textures that help turn individual songs into something considerably bigger. Adrian Oxaal adds further depth across guitar and cello, and vocalist Chloë Alper is spectacular, bringing a powerful additional dimension to the band's vocal arrangements.
With David Baynton-Power and Knox-Hewson sharing the drumming duties, there's a wonderfully physical pulse running through the performance. Two drummers can easily become a gimmick. Here, it's part of a much larger musical picture, with every instrument contributing to the whole.
And that's what makes James such an absorbing live proposition: there's always something happening somewhere on stage.
Everybody wants to get up and dance
While the band is finding its groove, the audience is having a small existential crisis of its own.
By the second song, people are already restless. Some begin standing beside their seats, others are clearly itching to get moving, and one bloke near the front is repeatedly getting up despite security asking him to sit down.
You can feel the tension building. This is a seated theatre, after all, and not everyone has necessarily paid for the same sort of evening. Some want to sit back and absorb the music; others want to surrender to the rhythm.
Enter Tim Booth, master of the situation.
Clearly aware of what's happening around him, Booth addresses the audience and recounts a question he'd received earlier from a schoolteacher attending the VIP experience: were people going to get up and dance?
His response is wonderfully straightforward.
“There’s two things,” he explains, pointing out that Laid is, in general, quite a mellow album, so it's perfectly reasonable for people to remain seated much of the time.
“But if you wanna get up and dance for certain songs then get up and dance, but maybe sit down again for the quiet ones.”
The audience erupts in appreciation.
“It's in your hands, folks! Police yourselves.”
And just like that, the problem has been solved. No lecture, no awkward standoff, no lengthy negotiation with security. Just a frontman who understands his audience and knows how to give everyone permission to enjoy themselves.
The band launches into Ring the Bells, and suddenly the whole theatre seems to rise as one. People are clapping, singing and dancing, and the Civic transforms into something resembling a Sunday choir inside a cathedral of sound.
It's one of those moments when a concert stops being a collection of people watching musicians and becomes a collective experience.
The harmonies are extraordinary. Four-part vocals appear throughout the evening, lifting the songs into another dimension. There are moments when the voices intertwine so beautifully that the sheer richness of the sound catches you off guard.
And all of this is being delivered by musicians playing their instruments, not by a collection of backing tracks doing the heavy lifting.
No smoke and mirrors. No elaborate playback pretending to be a band. Just musicianship, arrangement and a group of performers who know precisely what they're doing.
At the front of the theatre, the dancing becomes increasingly enthusiastic. The floor covering the orchestra pit is visibly moving up and down with the beat, as though the building itself has decided to join the party.
The Civic is rocking.
A polar bear with the moves of a fashion model
Booth is a fascinating frontman to watch.
Tonight, he's wearing baggy black trousers, a white shirt, a short-sleeved white fur jacket with a hood and woollen hat. Depending on the song, he pulls the hood up and transforms into something resembling a cross between a polar bear and a fashion model who has wandered onto the wrong catwalk.
It's an cool look, certainly, but Booth has never struck me as someone particularly interested in playing it safe.
He is also wearing a blue medical brace on his left wrist, suggesting a recent injury. Whatever has happened, it hasn't stopped him from delivering the goods. When the faster songs kick in, Booth throws himself into the performance, producing some wonderfully unpredictable dance moves.
At certain points, he seems to enter an almost frenzied state, his body moving in response to the music rather than following any recognisable choreography.
There's no polished pop-star routine here. No carefully rehearsed sequence designed for a camera. Booth moves like a man who simply cannot keep still when the music takes hold.
It's exhilarating to watch.
I always appreciate performers who still have that instinctive connection with their music. You can teach someone choreography, but you can't manufacture that kind of abandon.
When the audience needs to be reminded who's on stage
Of course, every great night has its moments when the human element threatens to derail proceedings.
At one point, a rather worse-for-wear northern bloke makes his way down and plants himself beside me. He has one request, and he is determined that the band will hear it.
“Play Hymn From a Village!”
Again.
And again.
And again.
Bass player James Patrick Glennie eventually tells him to shut up, but the persistent heckling continues. A couple of songs later, during a break in the music, our enthusiastic concert critic resumes his campaign.
By now, Booth has clearly had enough.
Not one to mince words, the singer turns towards the offender and delivers a blunt instruction: “Shut the fuck up!”
The audience erupts.
It's a wonderfully cathartic moment, and the heckler finally gets the message. There's a time and a place to make your voice heard at a concert, but repeatedly shouting over a band that has travelled halfway around the world to perform isn't exactly the height of concert etiquette.
Besides, there's a perfectly good reason to pay attention to what's actually happening on stage.
James are in outstanding form.
And the band's refusal to be distracted only reinforces how accomplished these musicians are. They manage the unruly moments without losing the thread of the performance, returning to the music and carrying the audience along with them.
That's the difference between a band simply playing a set and a band genuinely commanding a room.
Saul Davies: the man who didn't want to come to New Zealand
One of the evening's lighter moments arrives when Booth mentions that this is the first time Davies has played in New Zealand, explaining that he was ill when the band last visited.
Davies, clearly enjoying the opportunity to set the record straight, or at least have a little fun with the story, takes to the microphone.
“I said I was sick, I just didn't want to come, I got a load of money from the insurance and everything, it was great, I went to the beach…”
There's a pause.
“It's obviously not true.”
The audience catches on immediately and laughs along. It's a lovely moment of dry humour, and Davies delivers it with the sort of timing that suggests he might have a second career waiting for him in comedy.
Of course, the story is a joke, but it also illustrates something about the band. Despite their longevity and considerable success, James retain a playful chemistry that makes the whole operation feel refreshingly human.
And that's important. A band can be technically brilliant, but if there's no personality or connection between its members, the audience will eventually notice. James have both in abundance.
A setlist that refuses to stand still
One of the things I love about James is their willingness to dig into their extensive catalogue rather than simply deliver a predictable greatest-hits package. Tonight’s journey moves effortlessly between eras, opening with Zero, Way Over Your Head and Dream Thrum, before Everybody Knows, Five-O and the crowd-pleasing Ring the Bells lift the energy.
The set continues with What's the World, One of the Three and Shadow of a Giant, before Knuckle Too Far, Low Low Lowand Sound bring the intensity back. Along the way, Getting Away With It (All Messed Up), Skindiving, Lullaby, P.S., Say Something, Beautiful Beaches and Tomorrow add further depth.
It's a beautifully balanced performance, shifting between quieter, reflective moments and exhilarating bursts of energy. James understand that a great two-hour concert needs dynamics, allowing the songs room to breathe before unleashing the full force of their nine-piece line-up.
Yet there's one notable omission that will undoubtedly leave some fans scratching their heads.
Where on earth was Sit Down?
For all the musical riches on offer, there is one conspicuous absence.
Sit Down.
For many people, this is the James song. Released 19 June 1989, it became one of the band's defining anthems, a song that helped establish their place in British alternative rock history. Its communal chorus has long since escaped the confines of the original recording and become part of the band's live identity.
Yet tonight, it doesn't appear.
I'm sure I'm not the only person who was waiting for it. It's the sort of omission that makes you wonder whether a band has finally grown tired of playing its biggest hit after decades of performing it.
Perhaps James simply wanted to tell a different story tonight. After all, the group has consistently demonstrated that it doesn't intend to be trapped by the expectations attached to its best-known songs.
And there is something refreshing about that.
Still, I can't help thinking that a few people would have loved the opportunity to belt out that chorus before heading home.
You can't have everything, I suppose.
Nantucket: a glimpse of what's next
The encore brings another interesting development.
Rather than immediately reaching for the most familiar material, Booth introduces Nantucket, an unreleased track the band is currently developing for its next album, which he says they intend to release next year.
For a band with more than four decades of history behind it, that's an encouraging sign. James could easily spend the rest of their career touring their back catalogue, relying on the emotional attachment fans have to the songs they've known for years.
Instead, they're still writing, experimenting and looking forward.
I discussed the band's new music and future plans with Saul Davies during our recent interview, so if you're interested in what James are working on, make sure you check that out as well.
There's also a wonderfully human moment during Nantucket. Booth stops the song because someone is out of tune and instructs everyone to start again.
It's an amusing reminder that even a band of this calibre doesn't necessarily get everything right on the first attempt. What matters is the willingness to stop, correct the problem and carry on.
Elsewhere, Davies catches the eye of a female fan at the front of the theatre. She makes a heart shape with her fingers directly towards him. He notices, bashfully smiles back, and her face lights up like a Christmas tree.
It's a tiny exchange, lasting only seconds, but it's precisely the sort of moment that makes live music so special. For that fan, it's probably something she'll remember for years. For Davies, it's a fleeting connection with someone who has come to see the band play.
And for the rest of us, it's a reminder that the relationship between a performer and an audience is never entirely one-way.
The encore continues with Sometimes and Laid, bringing the evening to a close with the audience finally getting the chance to sing along to one of the band's most recognisable songs.
The verdict: James are still a band to be reckoned with
Two hours is a substantial amount of time to spend on stage, but James make the evening fly by.
The performance takes us through highs and lows, quieter reflections and explosive communal moments. The musicianship is superb, the harmonies are often breathtaking, and Booth remains an extraordinary frontman with a voice and physical presence that are entirely his own.
The nine-piece line-up is a particular highlight. There are no shortcuts to what this band achieves. The multiple instruments, intricate arrangements and layered vocal parts are central to the experience, and watching the musicians bring it all together is a reminder of just how much can be achieved when talented people play together.
That's not to say the evening is perfect. The absent Sit Down will disappoint some fans, the persistent heckler provides an unwelcome distraction, and the opening act never quite finds its feet. But these are relatively minor blemishes on an otherwise excellent night.
What really stands out is that James don't sound like a band merely preserving its legacy. They sound like musicians who still have something to say.
Their catalogue has been built over decades, yet the songs remain alive in performance. They shift and change with the musicians, the audience and the atmosphere of the room. The newer material sits comfortably alongside the classics, and the band's willingness to take chances keeps the show from becoming a museum piece.
There are plenty of acts touring today who can reproduce their records faithfully. Far fewer can turn a theatre into a living, breathing musical experience in which thousands of individual voices become part of the performance.
James can.
And while I would have loved to hear Sit Down, I left the Civic feeling that I'd witnessed something more interesting than a predictable parade of hits.
I saw a band with extraordinary musicianship, a frontman who knows how to read a room, and a catalogue that continues to evolve rather than gather dust.
After more than 40 years, James still have the ability to surprise, provoke, entertain and unite an audience.
That's no small achievement.
And if the promise of Nantucket is anything to go by, there's plenty more music still to come.
James – Setlist
- Zero
- Way Over Your Head
- Dream Thrum
- Everybody Knows
- Five-O
- Ring the Bells
- What's the World
- One of the Three
- Knuckle Too Far
- Shadow of a Giant
- Low Low Low
- Stutter/Sound
- Getting Away With It (All Messed Up)
- Skindiving
- Lullaby
- P.S.
- Say Something
- Beautiful Beaches
- Tomorrow
Encore
- Out to Get You
- Nantucket
- Sometimes
- Laid
Reviewer: Paul Marshall
Photography by Paul Marshall
WATCH THE LIVE VIDEO at Paul Was There -