Live at Homegrown, Claudelands Oval
14 March 2026
Live Review by Music Journalist: Paul Marshall
Head Like A Hole Ignite Homegrown: Three Decades of Chaos, Punk Swagger, and Pure Kiwi Rock.
There are certain bands in New Zealand rock history that don’t simply play shows, they detonate them. When Head Like a Hole hit the stage at Jim Beam Homegrown in the blazing afternoon sun at Claudelands Oval, it feels less like a festival set and more like the ignition of a controlled riot.
Frontman Booga Beazley strolls out with the kind of swagger only earned through decades of mayhem on stages across Aotearoa. There’s no pretence, no over-produced spectacle, just pure, unapologetic rock ’n’ roll delivered with a grin that suggests they’re having just as much fun as the crowd.
The set kicks into gear with the brilliantly named “Comfortably Shagged,” a track that perfectly encapsulates the band’s gleefully irreverent spirit. It’s loud, loose and gloriously unfiltered, exactly what you want from a band that has spent more than three decades refusing to play by anyone else’s rules.
Another favourite of mine starts up “Cornbag,” and the crowd instantly lock into the groove. Mid-song, Beazley pauses to deliver one of those lines that lands heavier than expected: “See you on the other side.” The moment carries a quiet weight as the band dedicate the track to their late manager Gerald Barry Dwyer. In typical HLAH fashion, the sentiment isn’t wrapped in sentimentality, it’s blasted through amps and distortion.
“We love playing these songs,” Beazley tells the crowd with a grin. And I for one love listening to them, as did the hundreds of fans there that day.
It’s a sentiment that sums up the entire vibe. These aren’t musicians dragging old hits through another festival slot, they genuinely look like a band still enjoying the ride.
Personally, it had been years since I’d last seen Head Like A Hole live. But the memories came flooding back fast. Back in the day when I was managing Tadpole in their early years, we shared festival stages with HLAH more than once. Even then the band had a reputation, wild, hilarious and gloriously unpredictable. Watching them again now, that energy hasn’t faded one bit.
Musically, the band remain a fascinating cocktail. There’s rockabilly swagger, punk attitude, and good old-fashioned Kiwi rock muscle in the mix. It’s a combination that feels uniquely theirs and frankly one that never quite received the international attention it deserved. In another era, with the right timing, this band could easily have exploded far beyond our shores.
Then comes “Glory Glory Hallelujah,” delivered with absolute venom. The guitars snarl, the rhythm section punches hard, and the crowd at Claudelands roars back every chorus like it’s a stadium anthem.
And then the moment arrives.
The unmistakable opening notes of “I’m On Fire” send a ripple through the crowd. The band’s gritty, swaggering cover of the classic by Bruce Springsteen remains their biggest hit to date, and hearing it live still hits the sweet spot between reverence and reinvention.
As a quick side note here, Springsteen himself is widely credited as one of the instigators of the infamous “three-song photo rule.” For those outside the media trenches, that’s the rule where photographers are only allowed to shoot the first three songs of a show before being escorted out of the pit. The story goes that Springsteen once saw photos of himself mid-sweat, mid-grimace, and decided that was not the image he wanted immortalised. Ego stepped in, the rule was born in the ’80s, and countless artists followed suit.
Personally, I’ve always thought it’s a bit ridiculous. Some of the greatest moments of a concert happen later, when the band loosens up, when the crowd and the artist connect, when the real magic starts to unfold. The first three songs are often just the warm-up. But that’s the modern concert world we live in.
Thankfully, none of that matters when Head Like A Hole are on stage.
Because by the time their Homegrown set reaches its final moments, the crowd is bouncing, the band are grinning like mischievous teenagers, and Claudelands Oval feels like it’s hosting the world’s most chaotic backyard party.
Thirty-plus years in, Head Like a Hole still prove that great rock bands don’t age, they just get louder, looser, and even more dangerous.
And honestly, New Zealand rock is all the better for it.
Reviewer: Paul Marshall
Photography by Paul Marshall
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