Live at Spark Arena
19 February 2026
Live Review by Music Journalist: Paul Marshall
From Frisco to the South Pacific: Corey Kent’s Radio-Sharp Country Cuts Through Auckland.
Country music has always traded on wide-open spaces. Dirt roads. Back porches. Slow burns.
So when a lad hailing from Frisco, a city exploding just north of Dallas walks onto a New Zealand arena stage dressed head-to-toe in denim, cream Stetson perched firm, you half-expect cliché. What you get instead from Corey Kent is something far more crafted.
Not exactly your typical “country” star.
Kent might come from one of America’s fastest-growing urban sprawls, but from song one, his voice is unmistakably country. Grit in the grain. Southern vowels stretched just enough. The lyrics? Rooted in highways and heartache. But the songs themselves and this is key, are well-constructed, radio-sharp and backed by a tight four-piece band that know when to lean in and when to lay back.
The arena was set in compact mode, a smart move. It gave the room warmth and volume. That said, seating took its time to fill during Kents opener for the main act Jason Aldean.
By song three, Kent drops a gem of trans-Pacific trivia:
“I didn’t realise you guys are ahead of the States… this new single drops at midnight tonight.”
New Zealand once again ahead of the curve. Somewhere in Texas, the clocks were still ticking albeit a lot later than here.
He grins.
“As a band out of Texas, we never dreamed we’d be played on the radio… let alone here in NZ.”
There’s genuine gratitude in that statement. And the Kiwi crowd gives him a decent roar back.
Then came “Rocky Mountain Low.” Yes, you heard that right. So much for the argument that creativity has flatlined in the millennial, AI-saturated age. Was this a tongue-in-cheek homage to John Denver’s timeless classic Rocky Mountain High, flipping the altitude but keeping the spirit. And far from groans, it earns grins. Before he can even hit the first line, an excited fan belts out, “Go CK!” a sharp reminder that country fandom is alive and kicking, even on the far side of the Pacific.
Homage or not, the song lands and tonight, that’s what counts.
Then came the moment that made my English heritage briefly clutch its pearls.
Kent announces he wants to see if we “know this one” and into the unmistakable opening of Champagne Supernova by Oasis we tumble.
Now, at first, sacrilege flashes before my eyes, I mean ears.
But here’s the thing.
By verse two, it works.
Stripped slightly. Twanged just enough. The melody carries across genres better than you might think. Kent does struggle occasionally with the soaring high notes, but you can’t fault the effort. The crowd absolutely erupts at the end. Hands up. Proper noise. In that moment, genre lines blur. A great song is, after all, a great song.
During the Oasis cover, Kent moves right to the lip of the stage, leaning into the first few rows, while his guitarist strikes a full rock-god pose atop the drum riser, legs wide, riffs punching the air. It’s theatre. It’s fun. It works.
“Are, you ready to get wild with us?”
There’s enthusiasm in the ask. The response… measured.
The crowd never quite tipped into chaos. Heads nodded. Phones filmed. Polite Kiwi engagement. Country crowds here aren’t Nashville Saturday night yet but they’re learning.
Kent compensates by constantly moving, stage left to right, crouching, leaning, waving at fans. Between lines, he’s pure energy. Mid-chorus he’s at one edge; by the bridge he’s sprinting to the other. You can’t accuse him of phoning it in.
The lyric “I keep the windows down and the wind in her hair” floats through the arena, evocative, simple Americana. They don’t write those lines in London Town.
If one cover was bold, two felt ambitious in a shortened support slot. On his current tour Kent has been playing 15 songs a night, with two covers built into the full set. So squeezing both into a support slot was a surprise.
The second? Come Together by The Beatles.
And again, initially unexpected.
But re-imagined with a country backbone, the groove thickened rather than thinned. Kent strutted across the stage cup in hand, leaning into the swampy swagger of the riff. It shouldn’t work. But it does. Because, say it with me, a great song is a great song.
Support slots are brutal. The lights aren’t fully yours. Half the crowd is still finding seats. And yet, Corey Kent left an impression.
Vocally solid’ish. Occasionally stretching beyond his ceiling, but never shying away from the challenge. His originals showed real songwriting craft. The band were tight, sharp, and visually engaging.
The arena may not have “got wild,” but they listened. And for a country artist from Texas playing Auckland on the other side of the world, that counts.
From Frisco to the South Pacific, Corey Kent proved that country, when written well, travels.
And next time?
I suspect more of them will be standing.
Reviewer: Paul Marshall
Photography by Paul Marshall
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