Live at The Town Hall
28 May 2025
Live Review by Music Journalist: Paul Marshall
Train Bring Nostalgia and Shine to Auckland Town Hall.
There’s a moment during Train’s heartfelt rendition of "Bruises" where frontman Pat Monahan leaps off the Town Hall stage, embracing the outstretched arms and wide eyes of the front row. It’s not a rockstar ego flex—it’s pure connection. At 56, he’s still got the pipes, the charm, and the courage to make every lyric feel like it was written for you.
But let’s rewind.
The night begins with Kiwi indie folk favourite Mel Parsons, a lone figure with an acoustic guitar, holding her own in front of a crowd eager for American pop-rock anthems. She threads her set with laid-back soft storytelling, but it’s a tough crowd; murmurs of chatter ripple through the seated venue like a disrespectful breeze. Still, those paying attention are rewarded with her homespun warmth and clean, melodious guitar work. Kiwiana indie-folk might not be what the rock crowd ordered, but the golf claps between songs are respectful enough, even if slightly tepid.
Then Train takes the stage.
Dressed head to toe in jet black, the band looks every bit the seasoned arena act, a touch of California cool sharpened by years on the road. They open with the shimmering nostalgia of "AM Gold", easing the crowd in before unleashing the real singalong starter: "50 Ways to Say Goodbye". That’s when things properly lift off.
From that moment, it’s clear we’re in for a hit-laden, heartstring-pulling night of polished rock theatre. By song four, the sound finally locks in—maybe the front-of-house crew were nursing a shaky soundcheck, but once dialled in, the mix is lush. Every harmony, every tambourine hit, every guitar shimmer is where it needs to be. Monahan, never one to hog the spotlight, even swings his mic toward bassist Hector Maldonado mid-song to catch a soaring falsetto that earns its own moment of applause.
Mid-set, Monahan takes a breather from the radio hits to share a personal moment, telling the crowd about his solo album before launching into “Always Midnight”. But this isn’t your standard acoustic interlude—he steps completely away from the mic, no safety net, no effects, just raw vocal muscle. I caught Train at the Powerstation the last time they rolled through town, and Monahan stunned with a similar a cappella moment. But tonight? He ups the ante. The man unleashes his voice like an opera singer trapped in a rock star’s frame—commanding, precise, and damn near superhuman. In an era of autotune and backing tracks, watching someone tear the roof off with nothing but their lungs is a reminder of what real talent sounds like. Monahan doesn’t just sing—he transcends. Moments like these aren’t just performances; they’re proof.
There’s an Americana-inflected, almost Irish skiffle feel to some of the arrangements—most notably on "Bruises", where the acoustic textures and fiddle-like guitar work give it a rootsy kick. It’s part of Train’s enduring appeal: pop songs with just enough grit, just enough soul. Even the transitions between songs—fluid segues that nod to the band's tight musicianship—feel intentional and fresh.
Then there’s "Marry Me". Monahan drops the mic—not figuratively, but literally, holding it low at his waist—and still belts with raw, golden clarity. No vocal trickery here. Just talent.
Train’s fanbase is a generational melting pot. Teens in sparkly tops sway next to middle-aged couples mouthing every word. Grandparents in denim jackets with Drops of Jupiter badges share wine with their grown-up kids. It’s community. It’s memory. It’s AM radio comfort with a stadium sound.
Pat gets real toward the end:
“When I was younger, I’d go backstage right about now. But I don’t know how long I’ve got. So if you don’t mind… can we stay a bit longer?”
He’s referring to the typical ego-driven finale where the band steps offstage, leaving the audience to work themselves into a frenzy, chanting and cheering until the band returns for the encore. Not Monahan. As a seasoned rock star, he’s seen through the theatrics of that tired ritual. These days, he prefers a more honest approach — and the crowd appreciates the authenticity.
And just like that, it’s over. The final chords of the night’s end-of-tour closer Drops of Jupiter ring out, golden and satisfied. No pyro. No confetti. Just timeless songs played by a band still in love with what they do—and a crowd who needed every minute of it.
Setlist:
- AM Gold
- 50 Ways to Say Goodbye
- If Its Love
- Get To Me
- Meet Virginia
- Save Me San Francisco
- Loose Control
- Bruises
- Long Yellow Dress
- Play That Song
- Parachute
- Angel In Blue Jeans
- Always Midnight
- Marry Me
- Calling All Angels
- Hey, Soul Sister
- Drive By
- Hotel California
- Drops of Jupiter
Reviewer: Paul Marshall
Photography by Paul Marshall
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