Frankie Stevens, Dennis Marsh, Gray Bartlett and Brendan Dugan

Pop CultureMarch 27, 2025

‘You can’t sign an mp3’: The music legends still topping the charts with CD sales

Senior writer

Frankie Stevens, Dennis Marsh, Gray Bartlett and Brendan Dugan

Alex Casey meets a curious outlier from last year’s local music charts.

At the end of last year, Aotearoa’s 2024 listening habits were revealed and some clear trends were observed: the proliferation of country music, the domination of the “pop girlies”, and the unwavering popularity of L.A.B. But there were also some big surprises, including that ensemble crooners NZ Highwaymen cracked the top 10 local album charts – above the likes of DARTZ and Fat Freddy’s Drop – despite having only 200 monthly listens on Spotify.

The first question to unravel this mystery: who are NZ Highwaymen? “We’re just four good buddies from way, way back, who all sing very, very well,” Brendan Dugan laughs down the phone. With a music career spanning over half a century since he won New Faces in 1968, Dugan is the youngest highwayman at 73 years old. For the last three years, he’s been touring the country alongside fellow music legends Frankie Stevens, Gray Bartlett, and Dennis Marsh.

Quite possibly the oldest local band still touring Aotearoa, NZ Highwaymen play the hits of Kenny Rogers, Johnny Cash and other popular American country artists, along with New Zealand classics and songs from their own extensive catalogues (Dennis Marsh, for example, has 30 albums to choose from). “I’ve always had a saying when we are on tour: ‘if you haven’t got the people singing within the first two songs, you’ve got a problem’,” says Dugan.

Playing everywhere from Invercargill’s Civic Theatre to Northland’s Opononi Hotel, it’s what happens after the NZ Highwaymen live shows that has boosted them into the top 10 album charts alongside the likes of L.A.B, Stan Walker, and Home Brew. “Afterwards, we always come out and sit at a desk, and it’s really cool because everyone queues up all the way out the door,” says Dugan. “And they all buy a CD, because they all want to get an autograph.”

The signings after the show can last for hours, says manager Aly Cook. She once advised security at Claudelands Events Centre in Hamilton that she would need backup getting the Highwaymen through the throng to the table. “They looked at me funny, but when it came to the end of the show, there was a huge crowd trailing after them. The security guys went, ‘Oh my gosh, you weren’t joking, were you?’ And I said, ‘No, it’s like this every night’.”

The signing table after an NZ Highwaymen show. (Image: Supplied)

Cook has also observed many Highwaymen fans buying a CD while openly acknowledging that they don’t have a CD player anymore. “They’re buying it because they want something physical from them,” she says. “Also, you can’t sign an mp3.” For Dugan, that speaks to the devotion of country music fans. “Country music fans are very loyal, especially when you’re looking at 50 years in the business. You’ve got a lifetime with some of these people.”

That loyalty also keeps the band afloat in a way that Spotify cannot. As James Milne aka Lawrence Arabia revealed last year, even above average success on the streaming platform does not amount to a living wage. Cook agrees. “When you buy an artist’s CD, that’s 20 bucks in their pocket. For these guys to make 20 bucks [on Spotify], they’d need thousands and thousands of streams to get anything close to the money they’d get from a single CD.”

Beyond paying for “the fuel in the car”, the Live From James Hay Theatre CD (also available to purchase at gigs as a live concert DVD) has extra significance for the band. Not only was it the home of TVNZ’s That’s Country, where they performed early in their careers, but it was the last performance before their original Highwayman Eddie Low fell ill and pulled out of the tour, later passing away in 2024. “That’s a very special, special recording for all of us,” says Dugan.

NZ Highwaymen performing in 2024. (Image: Supplied)

Even with seemingly all the world’s music streaming at your fingertips, Dugan is happy to still fly the flag for physical media. “They’re memories, and memories are important,” he says. “You’re taking a memory home to carry that on and play it in your car, or in your lounge.” He also admits to having a sizeable CD collection himself. “I’m trying to downsize in my office that is full of CDs and records, but I just can’t get rid of any. They’re all memories, they’re all great memories.”

When he’s not wrestling with Kondo-ing his own large CD collection, Dugan is preparing for the next big NZ Highwaymen tour which kicks off in May, and will bring their number of live shows to an astonishing 56 over the last three years. “This next one’s going to be hard, because the first part of the tour is 11 days straight,” he says. “And of course, I always drive because I have the main coach for touring, so by the time it’s all over, you’re pretty tired.”

As tiring as it may be, the magic of live performing and meeting their audience keeps them going. “It’s really special because you’ll look out and often see three generations of a family in the audience, including grandma from the old person’s home out for the night,” says Cook. “I’ve always got a pile of walkers in the corner, and I’m always unbolting chairs at the venue to fit in more people who use wheelchairs. I think that’s really special to see.”

All the while, Live From James Hay Theatre CDs will continue to fly off the signing table and keep them in the album charts, even if their Spotify plays dwindle in the low hundreds. “I don’t worry about any of that because I’m old school,” says Dugan. “Me and Spotify? I wouldn’t have a clue.”

Keep going!

Digital Liz

Pop CultureMarch 25, 2025

Help: I’m being haunted by the Skinny AI ad

Alex Casey

Senior writer

Digital Liz

The new campaign features an AI customer clone ‘to keep prices low’. But what is the real cost?

Everywhere I look at the moment, I see her. She lurks on The NZ Herald homepage, her digital grin jarring with the horror-filled headlines about Destiny Church protestors and missing women abroad. I open Instagram stories and she’s there too, beaming in a onesie against a green screen. Go and get some fresh air and she’s plastered all over the bright orange local dairy. There is simply no escaping the clutches of Liz, Skinny’s new AI-cloned representative.

Earlier this month, the 65-year-old from Kerikeri became the world’s first AI-generated customer-turned-ambassador. Plucked from hundreds of auditions, she spent 11 weeks being captured from head to toe – including full body scans and speaking “for three minutes straight over and over” – to be replicated using AI technology. “I love all my little AI-clones, I call them the ‘Skinnys’ and I am going to love seeing them pop up all over the place,” Liz told Stuff.

The ad begins with a 1970s-style newsdesk. “Breaking news, Skinny mobile has found a new way to keep prices low,” says Liz. “That’s right,” adds another Liz. “They’ve digitally cloned their happiest customer to make really cost effective ads.” Cut to the outside of the studio, where hundreds upon thousands of Lizzes are dancing while wearing orange velour jumpsuits. Above them looms a row of statues of giant hands, the fingers wrapped tightly around a smartphone.

My generous reading of the crowd scene is that it is simply a bit of digital fun, kind of like “Elf Yourself” or the time Deep Roy played 165 different Oompa Loompas in Tim Burton’s harrowing Willy Wonka remake. My cynical interpretation, what with all the orange jumpsuits and terrifying giant phone overlords, is that Liz is warning us. Could this be our future AI prison, where the only form of creative expression left is grapevining in unison with our clones?

It’s supposed to be a celebration, and yet something about this campaign feels unendingly bleak. Liz got paid a talent fee and won mobile credit for life, but that seems like a woefully inadequate reimbursement for handing over your entire likeness to a telecommunications company to flog phone plans for two years. And what about all the other talent, both in front of and behind the camera, who would otherwise bring something like this to life?

Even though it is hard to gauge how “AI” this ad actually is (social media footage shows Liz wearing a wig, which my dog could probably do with AI), many out there are similarly perturbed. “I’m a 3D artist so it’s literally impossible not to hate big companies who use AI for creative reasons,” someone wrote on Instagram. “Taking work away from copywriters, artists, graphic designers, film crews, editors, and most important the Queen herself, Liz!” said another.

More specifically, won’t someone think of the fragile comedian-advertising ecosystem here? For years, talented local comics have filled their coffers while lending their voices and faces to big campaigns like this. Where would Rhys Darby be without 2Degrees, David Correos without his Vodafone 4G morph suit? I’m only half joking here, but when every other week we lose a comedian to the UK or Australia, cloning people for two year ad campaigns hardly sweetens the outlook.

None of this is Liz’s fault, of course. She seems like a genuinely sweet lady who had a whale of a time throughout the process. “I looked really good. It was really exciting and a bit zany,” she told NZ Herald. “Anything that puts New Zealand on the map positively is worth it.” Even with 68% of New Zealanders concerned about the potential malicious use of AI and the lack of regulation, she’s comfortable with her decision: “to me, it is just a tool. That’s my take on it.”

Honestly, what makes me feel the most hollow are the grim AI aesthetics that are slowly poisoning the world. On Instagram I am met with AI baby versions of The Sopranos instead of my real friends, glassy-eyed in gold chains and polo shirts. I head to Facebook to check something in my local community page, only to find a former Real Housewife of Auckland utterly bereft at the world’s fakest AI video of a ripped firefighter gently nuzzling a charred wolf pup.

This is my own fault, but things have gotten far worse since I searched “skinny AI ad” to check something the other day. My For You page is now literally dripping with AI goop, including zombies made of pizza and horrible toothpaste Momo-people. The term “skinny” has also yielded a rich vein of weight loss and Ozempic content which my brain could really do without, including a skeletal AI cat called Mr Whiskers going to the gym to get shredded.

Returning to the world of the Skinny ad, we go from the grapevine prison yard back to the bright orange studio where anchor Liz reflects. “Wow, what a heartwarming story about a telco that will do anything to keep prices low and customers happy.” The camera zooms out to reveal the ad playing on a television screen in someone’s cosy lounge, all cross-stich on the wall, fringed lamps and vintage toys. “Wow, we are so happy,” Liz tells the camera from her couch.

Whether it’s the real Liz or not, we can’t be sure.