Live at Spark Arena
29 January 2025
Live Review by Music Journalist: Paul Marshall
Zed at Spark Arena: A Quiet Reintroduction, Finding Their Voice Again.
There’s a particular poetry to arriving five minutes before showtime and realising you’ve walked into something oddly understated. For a band as embedded in New Zealand’s musical memory as Zed, Spark Arena feels strangely subdued, dialled down to its smallest configuration, the vastness of the room curbed, the crowd still shuffling in as the house lights dip. It’s not the roar of a band reclaiming an arena after a 21-year recording hiatus, more the cautious hum of a reunion still finding its footing.
From the opening notes, though, one thing is immediately clear: Nathan King’s voice is in good nick. No tentative easing in, no throat-clearing moments, he’s locked in from song one. Andy Lynch makes sure the temperature rises quickly, ripping confidently through a couple of non-Zed hits, warming the room with the kind of muscle memory that only comes from years on stage. Musically, there’s no question the parts are there.
Visually, however, it’s a different story. Zed feel rusty in their stagecraft, static in places they shouldn’t be. King is the lone spark of kinetic energy, moving like a frontman who knows exactly what the songs need. He grooves, he prowls, he even scales the drum riser, selling the material with the instincts of a natural showman. Around him, the rest of the band largely stays rooted. Guitarist Lynch, frustratingly, barely shifts position all night. For a lead guitarist in an arena, even a downsized one, that inertia is noticeable, if not a little deflating.
Sonically, the band fare better. Ben Campbell’s bass provides a solid foundation and his backing vocals add welcome texture when they cut through. Lynch also contributes some strong harmonies, rounding out the sound nicely. Unfortunately, Campbell spends too much of the night fighting his microphone, positioned awkwardly off-axis, at times making his vocals harder to hear than they should be. It’s a performance issue, but in an arena environment, these things matter.
The crowd response spikes whenever King moves toward them, a clear reminder of the connection still there. Zed’s audience tonight is strikingly multigenerational, longtime fans shoulder to shoulder with kids and teens who likely discovered the band via playlists or parents’ car stereos. It’s not something you see often at shows by bands of this vintage, and it’s quietly heartening.
New material features heavily, reflecting the band’s renewed creative push. Face the Rain arrives on a backing track intro, cautiously received but listened to with intent. Later, Future You, another new song, sees King ditch his guitar entirely, freeing him to work the stage harder than at any other point in the set. It should be a visual high point, but it’s let down by a lighting setup that feels half-finished. King repeatedly steps into darkness, there’s no follow spot to track his movement, and the absence is glaring. Whether budget compromise or logistical oversight, it undercuts the drama of the moment.
Adrian Palmer, meanwhile, is immaculate on drums. Rock-solid, locked in, and somehow managing to deliver rhythmic lines with effortless precision, he’s the band’s quiet MVP. His performance is a reminder that discipline and consistency are often the true backbone of live shows.
Mid-set comes a welcome surprise as Boh Runga joins the band. The moment she opens her mouth, the room is reminded why she should have became a global phenomenon, a voice to rival the greats of female vocal acrobatics. Runga delivers a performance that is both powerful and utterly convincing, lifting Zed’s songs to an entirely new level.
Zed’s return to recording after two decades comes via their third album, Future Memory, and tracks like Bonfires hint at what they’re reaching for, expansive, reflective, grown-up rock. The song starts promisingly but never quite lands, fading before it fully ignites.
During Glorafilia, the band drift teasingly into U2 territory, the chord pattern brushing so close to With or Without You that it becomes a curious, almost cheeky moment of musical déjà vu.
True to form, and timed with near-military precision (thanks in no small part to the large digital clock stationed stage right), Zed wrap their set at exactly one hour. No indulgence, no overruns, just a clean, efficient exit.
This isn’t a triumphant victory lap, nor is it a nostalgia act trading purely on past glories. What it feels like is a band recalibrating in real time, rediscovering how to occupy big stages again after years away, testing new songs alongside old instincts. The bones are strong. The voice is there. With sharper production choices and a bit more collective movement, Zed’s return could yet grow into something truly compelling.
For now, this is chapter one. a measured, imperfect, but intriguing reintroduction.
Reviewer: Paul Marshall
Photography by Paul Marshall
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