Live at Paraoa Brewing Co.
4 February 2025
Live Review by Music Journalist: Paul Marshall
C.O.F.F.I.N at Double Whammy: Punk, Chaos, and a Whole Lot of Attitude.
If you’re looking for a night where punk meets attitude, C.O.F.F.I.N’s show at Double Whammy delivered that and more, igniting the crowd like a Roman candle of chaos. The four-piece outfit, looking like a blend of Motörhead and The Dickies, with a touch of 70s American surfer rock and the raw, sun-bleached energy of 90s California punk, tore through their set with relentless fury.
From the jump, the crowd was hooked. A few songs in, and the venue was alive with pogoing bodies and even a small but spirited mosh pit at the front, all bouncing to the raucous, yet strangely melodic riffs. The energy in the room was infectious, with a crowd that spanned generations – 20-somethings alongside middle-aged diehards in weathered T-shirts and flannels, all mingling under the hazy lights. Hell, there was even a brave soul rocking a leather jacket in the dead of summer – that kind of dedication is commendable. And the band? Well, they were feeding off it.
The real magic came from the music, though, as the band dug deep into their catalogue. When those recognisable riffs rang out, the crowd just knew. You could feel the tension in the air, that electric connection between the musicians and the audience. It wasn’t just a show; it was a celebration of everything gritty and defiant about punk.
And of course, things got chaotic. An overzealous fan, clearly feeling the high of the moment, tumbled headfirst into the stage during a particularly raucous moment, only to be quickly scooped up by a fellow mosh pit enthusiast – a true testament to the “we’re all in this together” spirit of live punk. The whole thing felt like an unrelenting stream of energy – anything could happen at any moment, and it likely did.
Then there’s the drummer-frontman, Ben Portnoy – a true showman. Not only was he laying down the beats, but he was commanding the stage, standing up mid-song while still keeping perfect time. A drummer who sings? In my books, that’s as cool as it gets. I may be biased, but let’s be real – it’s impressive.
But no punk show is complete without a bit of banter. The band, warming up to their cover of AC/DC’s Riff Raff, posed a question to the crowd: “We got AC/DC in Australia, what’s your equivalent?” In the sea of silence, I hollered “Shihad!” – my kiwi pride shining through.
Unfortunately, the band missed it, and the bass player, eager to keep the chatter going, blurted out, “It’s Crowded House, isn’t it?” Cue the boos and laughs, because, well, that’s punk for you.
The chaos wasn’t limited to just the banter. At one point, the mosh pit boiled over when a guy tried to bulldoze through the crowd, knocking a few unsuspecting women off their feet. A scuffle broke out, and for a brief moment, it looked like the whole show would descend into a tangled mess. But the band, never missing a beat, powered through it, and the crowd – after the dust settled – was right back in sync with the music.
By the time White Dog rolled around as the penultimate track, the energy was at a fever pitch. C.O.F.F.I.N could’ve left it there, but they came back for an encore that was exactly what the crowd needed: two more tracks of blistering, unapologetic punk rock. It wasn’t just a gig; it was an experience, one you feel long after the lights go up.
In the end, C.O.F.F.I.N proved they’re not just a punk band; they’re a force. And when a band can make you pogo, mosh, laugh, and even question the local equivalent of AC/DC in one show, you know they’re doing something right.
Reviewer: Paul Marshall
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