Tinariwen play at The Powerstation in Auckland on May 29, 2024. Photo / Rachel Matthews for Crave!
The Tuareg band with a cult following brings its Saharan sound to a transfixed crowd at The Powerstation on Wednesday, the Auckland leg of Tinariwen’s New Zealand and Australian tour.
It’s a wild, wet night in Auckland. Cold, by our standards, with that driving rain that’s particularly biting at the intersection by the New Zealand Herald office. It’s the only thing moving at speed; traffic’s not going anywhere.
Amidst all this, can music transport us somewhere else? Bracing against the weather, people are converging on Mt Eden Rd with that hope.
Tinariwen are playing at The Powerstation, and both their music and that of local supporting act Leao are infused with a sense of heat. For the headliners, it’s the dry heat of the Saharan region; for Leao, the tropical humidity of Samoa and summertime Tāmaki Makaurau.
It’s warm inside too. Doors open at 8pm and things kick off promptly at 8.30pm; punctual proceedings that demonstrate professionalism and respect for all involved, and particularly appreciated on a night like this.
Leao, helmed by David Feauai-Afaese on guitar and vocals, open with a heavy bass groove and jangly surf guitar. Feauai-Afaese welcomes the crowd in Sāmoan, acknowledging the space, Tinariwen and Banished Music, and the four-piece proceed with a shimmering tide of tracks, saturating the crowd with serotonin.
Calling it Sāmoan indie-rock doesn’t quite do it justice. It is contemporary music equally steeped in history – like the string bands of Sāmoa, Tonga and Hawai’i – and hewn from this concrete city we live in; banana trees and tarmac, long afternoons in hot backyards.
And it resonates. There’s considerable crowd appeal and the band draws loud cheers and chahoos throughout the set.
They have a following, and so they should, as one of the most exciting bands to come out of this city recently. Leao’s low-key publicity presence – they have a five-song EP on Spotify and no Instagram presence – makes the opportunities to experience their craft feel quite special.
Up on The Powerstation stage, it’s a different vibe to the last time I saw them play – a Saturday afternoon in Onehunga, opening the new space from Gow Langsford gallery – but they handle both with ease, and contrasting the last chill, funky performance with this louder, higher octane set speaks to their range and versatility. The onstage rapport is natural and easy, welcoming.
The fans are warmed up and the venue is near full by the time they wrap, with a mixed crowd – all braving the weather to see a band that was established in the Sahara and has traversed the globe gaining legions of fans.
Tinariwen are prompt too, on stage at 9.32pm, with their striking signature outfits. With a simple “good evening”, they launch into their signature bluesy riff and the first song.
It’s a band with a cult following and devotees from all walks of life lose themselves to the music.
“Welcome to the Sahara,” Abdallah Ag Alhousseyni tells the crowd between songs.
He and the other members of Tinariwen have commanding stage presence, clad in white litham (the veiled turbans worn by Tuareg and Berber men) and luminous textiles, and use dance and gesture artfully.
This sense of culture and tradition is infused in their music. Tinariwen’s distinctive sound is shaped by a traversal of time and genre, melding traditional Tuareg music with Malian blues, Arabic pop and Western rock music.
“It is a mix of traditional rhythms, electric and acoustic guitars and bass,” Ag Alhousseyni told the New Zealand Heraldahead of the visit. “Our lyrics are coming from the ancient Tuareg poetry and talk about the Tuareg issues from the early 1960s to nowadays.”
The crowd is into it from the very first song, grooving and clapping, with the collective energy building as the setlist wanders thumpingly from song to song. It’s a big performance.
This intensity is more than I expected – granted I usually play this album at home on the weekend for a relaxed vibe and as with Leao, this transformative quality gives the music and the world it creates for listeners an expansive plane of possibilities.
The powerful thumping hand drum, a half sphere, is incendiary. Pounding through the building and us, its hypnotic boom pulls you out of your body.
Tuareg blues takes its beat from the rhythm of camels in the Sahara. And if you close your eyes and listen, even on a soggy Auckland night, you feel like you’re there.
Emma Gleason is the New Zealand Herald’s lifestyle and entertainment deputy editor. Based in Auckland, she covers culture, fashion and media, and spoke to Tinariwen in April.