More about: Marlon Williams

While most countries still find themselves under some form of Covid-related restrictions, little old New Zealand is one of few pockets around the globe where life is running pretty much as normal - and therefore gigs are okay to go ahead. With the borders closed to non-essential workers, Kiwi artists are taking centre stage while their international counterparts’ shows have been postponed indefinitely or cancelled altogether. Artists like Marlon Williams who, in a vintage cinema in West Auckland, is 19 dates into a sold-out nationwide tour.

The indie-folk crooner is perfectly capable of packing out bigger rooms, but upon entering the Hollywood Avondale it’s clear why he’s chosen to do several shows in this smaller space: with beautiful original décor and a hazy scent in the air, it feels like we’re entering a different world as we’re ushered to our seats. 

For the first of two acts, Williams emerges under almost total darkness, face obscured by a black hoodie, singing an introductory haka in Te Teo Māori, the language of New Zealand’s indigenous people. It’s an incredibly moving display, and adds to the pomp and circumstance of the night. As he alternates between acoustic guitar and grand piano, light comes and goes; at one point images of the ocean are illuminated on ceiling-high screens at the back of the stage, but mostly the minimal production intensifies the beauty of Williams’ voice which oscillates between delicate and choral, and deeply bluesy.

The second half could not be more different in tone. Half Elvis, half Richard E Grant in Withnail and I, Williams minces out to 2017’s ‘Vampire Again’, showcasing a brilliant sense of theatre before settling into a lounge set previously hidden in the dark. Sipping whisky, he intersperses chit-chat between heartfelt ballads - ‘Won't You Watch Her Lilies Grow’ by his former band The Unfaithful Ways, ‘I Wonder Why’ and ‘Devil’s Daughter’ from last year’s Plastic Bouquet LP, a collaboration with Canadian duo Kacy & Clayton. “I recently became a very political songwriter”, he affirms at one point, ushering in a tone of seriousness before paying hilarious homage to the hoiho penguin and its success in the 2019 Bird Of the Year ‘election’. Most poignant is a rendition of the Māori folk song ‘He Wawata’, dedicated to anyone “missing people overseas”, which as Williams wryly points out, is “statistically likely” to be the majority of the room.

A standing ovation leads to an encore of ‘Nobody Gets What They Want Anymore’ (on record a duet with Williams’ former partner and fellow Kiwi Aldous Harding, but solo, back on the grand piano, it’s just as enrapturing) before ‘Hello Miss Lonesome’ from his 2015 self-titled, closes a phenomenal set in a rousing finale.

In the past, the New Zealand music scene has consistently punched above its weight, and it feels right that in this era without mass gatherings, Kiwi artists are taking up the gauntlet to perform when no one else can. The rest of the world should take note of the phenomenal talent brewing down in the bottom-right corner of the atlas. 

More about: Marlon Williams