The War On Drugs- Live in Aotearoa, New Zealand, 2023

Wellington’s weather can be fickle in Spring. So, it was a delight that we landed a crisp, fine night for an outdoor Botanic Gardens performance. Adam Granduciel exists as a singer-songwriter in a fine psychedelic guitar jam band, surrounded by outstanding musicians. In the evening as songs evolve and freely wander into extended guitar and keyboard breakouts, and punctuated by the brass wizardry of Jon Natchez, you want the balm of fading sun and evening descending.

Just returning from the drinks tent after the roadies had remade the stage from the support act (Spoon from Austin, Texas), there was a pleasant surprise as ‘Hello Wellington’ rang out and the drums, keys, and guitars of Eyes to the Wind began. An understated slow number that showcases the words and voice of Granduciel, leading to the unmistakable swing of Pain, and we are away into a slow-burn night of a band warming to their mahi.

In Pain, you get that album title refrain of ‘… a deeper understanding’ and the first thrill of pealed guitar notes going forth into the night sky. An Ocean in Between the Waves signals them firing as a band of seven, pulsating drums, a melancholic, moody lyric of hope, and burning guitars.

Granduciel is surrounded by guitars and keyboards. To his right, Robbie Bennett on keys often locks in with the lead guitar, trading licks and lines. At one point, Granduciel is within his L-shaped corner of keyboards, locking in closely as each weaves their magic. To his far left, the seemingly nonchalant Anthony LaMarca moved at ease between electric and acoustic guitars, keys, and backing vocals.

In between them is the warm groove and melodic bass of David Hartley on backing vocals. On the impressive backline top left is the newest recruit Eliza Hardy Jones, introduced as a Philly in linage and is on keys, guitars, percussion, and harmony vocals. Back right, the incomparable Natchez on deep and rumbling saxophone and keys. Finally, back middle, holding the beat, providing the dramatic flourish, and living every song through physical expression is drummer Charlie Hall.

Song four signals the newest of albums with I Don’t Wanna Wait before they change gears back to the slower Strangest Thing; the latter half with its gentle swing would have had the stadia aloft with cigarette lighters out in older times.

Granduciel is at ease talking breezily to the crowd and finding local intersections as the guitar tech’ swaps guitars or adjusts the amps and we get Harmonica’s Dream as another introspective lyric and tune. Song seven is a surprise back catalogue pick from the early Kurt Vile version of the band and Arms Like Boulders swings in with a harmonica opening (in-joke after the previous song title maybe?).

The rushing drums heralds Red Eyes, and the band picks up the pace. It has that beat and refrain rings out throughout, giving additional poignancy to the light show that punctuates the night sky. Old Skin signals we are staying with the later material, a slower number that builds in emotional intensity.

A distinctive tocking sound, ethereal keys, and the familiar piano line means it can only be Under the Pressure as the drummer settles into his work. It is going to be a long trek into this song, and the audience is primed. If you ever saw festival footage of them playing this song on YouTube, this is the critical one you want to hear. It is a sonic ride of crescendo and resets, for a time it is the drummer’s show, as he sets the rhythm and pace with theatrical glances and winks to band mates. There is the haunting low sax from Natchez, and up front, Granduciel sees out the lyric, and the band collapses it all into a squall of guitar, keys, and drum cacophony.

In the penultimate song, the bold keys and guitar notes of I Don’t Live Here Anymore ring out. No Lucius heavenly choir is in sight to take the song to the next level. However, on stage are Hartly, LaMarca, and Hardy Jones delivering it in wonderous harmony, and Granduciel turns and salutes them with peal notes. We do not know it is the finish, and Occasional Rain takes us down and out.

Thanks to Wellington, the band exited the stage, houselights, and roadies on stage signaled the night was at an end.

Where else but Wellington could you step out of a live arena delighted and sated on sound and wind your way back to the city streets through a rose-laden graveyard?