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assorted album covers on a pink background with the taite music prize logo in the middle
2025 Taite Prize contenders (Image: The Spinoff)

Pop CultureFebruary 28, 2025

All 81 albums nominated for the 2025 Taite Music Prize, reviewed

assorted album covers on a pink background with the taite music prize logo in the middle
2025 Taite Prize contenders (Image: The Spinoff)

Max Johns embarks on a comprehensive tour of the current NZ music landscape.

On Monday Independent Music NZ will announce the ten albums shortlisted for this year’s Taite Music Prize, which is traditionally called “the prestigious Taite Music Prize” on first mention. Albums are judged on originality, artistic merit, creativity and excellence, with $12,500 and a trophy a bit like a metal hammer awarded to the winner.

The UK has the Mercury Prize, even though Mercury (the telecommunications company) doesn’t sponsor it or even exist anymore. Aussie shortens the Australian Music Prize to AMP so it sounds cooler. Our version is named after a music journalist who filmed bonkers stories, often inside the TV3 elevator. Dylan Taite (1937-2003) had impeccable taste and the clout to get almost any interview, including the last one Bob Marley gave on TV, which was thankfully not in a lift. His style was something else. Marilyn Manson – the sadistic torture junkie who in 1998 took the form of a gender-ambiguous alien god – once described Taite as “weird”.

Typical Dylan Taite piece to camera (Image: YouTube)

It all starts when IMNZ calls for nominations. There are rules on localness, albumness (no EPs) and newness. There’s an entry fee (less than a Laneway ticket). That’s it. Every nominated album becomes a candidate in a vote among IMNZ’s 1000+ members. So, what do you get when you ask every musician in the country to share their latest album in exchange for the chance to win a big cash prize?

Last year we got 68 hopefuls. I learned this after promising a cool but unknown website called Hamilton Underground Press that I’d review “all the nominations”, then quickly learning that this was not the same thing as “the 10-album shortlist”. It was a tour of NZ music’s current landscape, complete with major landmarks, obscure points of interest, barren stretches and hidden gems. Over here is lush and stunning native beauty; over there it’s all been mined to shit. To get a real sense of it you need to walk end to end, Te Araroa-style.

This year there are 81 and I’m once again going through them all, listening to every album, in full, in (mostly) alphabetical order. In the true spirit of “so you don’t have to”, I’ll boil each one down to its most representative song, compiled on the playlist below. If you like that song you’ll probably like the album. Easy. Let’s go.

1. KĀWAI, by AJA

We begin with an hour of R&B and soul that could only come from Aotearoa. It’s a debut but AJA sounds like she’s already put in her 10,000 hours. The backing group is in an absolute groove too. She sings mostly in te reo Māori which left me Googling for translations, knowing I was missing something good. Too early to predict finalists, but damn.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Te Reo ki Whakarongotai’

2. Te Whakamiha, by Anna Coddington

Quality. Opens with APRA Silver Scroll winner ‘Kātuarehe’ and keeps to that high standard. Poppy, bilingual funk that I’ll happily bounce uncomprehendingly along to. Only ‘GAINZ’, with unconvincing semi-rap over a predictable bassline, misses the target. Everything else sounds like a true pro doing what she loves. Troy Kingi (see #43) features on ‘Honey Back’.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Kahurangi’

Taite Music Prize form guide: Finalist, 2021

3. He Rākau, He Ngārara, by Aro

Monolingualism sucks – it’s album number three and I’ve missed most of the lyrics so far. Aro are a married couple who “share a passion for the power of language and music to tell stories celebrating our cultural identity”. Two strong voices unite jazz, more traditional waiata, harmony-driven ballads, haka, and even a throbbing bass-filled number that all fit together nicely. Wholesome as.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Tōtara’

4. Blue Dreams, by Holly Arrowsmith

Wait, Anna Coddington didn’t belong under A. Sigh. In a rush to realphabetise the list I land (wrongly, see #5) on Arrowsmith. Country blues that works well but will be punished by my “listen only once” rule. Feels like this album’s quiet personality would shine through on repeat.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Mountain Lion’

Read Arthur Ahbez’s perfect weekend playlist here

5. Arthur Ahbez & the Flaming Ahbez, by Arthur Ahbez

On a cattle ranch near the Mexican border the 60s never ended. Welcome to Arthur Ahbez country, where spaghetti western soundtrack meets proto-psychedelic folk. Ahbez’s advice is to “rack a cold one or roll a number” but I was sober and mowing the lawns. When he slipped into Elvis impersonation or put on a Johnny Cash drawl for an entire song, homage became parody.

Boiled down to one song: ‘A Song for Jim’

6. Medicine, by Louis Baker

Only five songs and 18 minutes long. By the official rules (six songs or 25 minutes) not a contender. Someone’s just lost their entry fee. So much soul, so little time.

Boiled down to one song: Track 6, which doesn’t exist

Taite Music Prize form guide: Finalist, 2020

7. Rubricator, by Sam Bambery

The slow and spacious work of a thoughtful songwriter. Rhythmic flourishes, floating piano and sad slide guitar call to mind a downbeat Wilco. The tempo and temperature drop over 8 tracks, until ‘Uncertain’ throws in a big, loud finish. Acoustic demo ‘Myself, Vindicated’, is a nice final twist.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Spring’

8. Find Me, by Sim Bastick

Sim Bastick feels free. She’s in touch with nature, getting into new age spirituality and making upbeat music about it. She’s in a good place, to which her incredibly happy-sounding songs fail to transport the listener. Find Me is all about pleasure that someone else is feeling.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Wait a Minute’

9. The Hollow Husk of Feeling, by Best Bets

Pop-punk with a bit of jangle that could have come from any time since the mid-90s. Four chords, verse-chorus-verse, you know the formula. Fun enough on a first, probably only, listen.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Hairshirt’

10. Episode 1: Looking For a New Planet, by Black Comet

This is exactly why I’ve taken on this project – to discover that space funk is alive and well in New Zealand! Maybe not as spacey as George Clinton and his actual mothership but still, this is cool. Deep bass, sax, vocoders, cosmic guitar solos, synthesisers, handclaps and tambourines are all here and they’re going to make you move.

Boiled down to one song: ‘R.C.’

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11. Under-rated, by Lomez Brown

Reggae that leans mostly Polynesian, but Caribbean in the title track. Like Best Bets (#9), Under-rated sits inside its genre and doesn’t push boundaries. That will count against you when a prize’s criteria include originality and innovation, but Lomez Brown sounds too kicked back to mind.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Been You’

12. Kōwhai, by Sophie Burbery

Ambitious: “An electronic, instrumental, ambient soundscape comprised of five musical pieces that traverse the anatomy & physiology of the kōwhai tree”. As they say, one listener’s meditative is another’s repetitive and hey, did you know that the roots (‘Aka’) of the kōwhai are mostly made of two notes?

Boiled down to one song: ‘Rau’

13. Filter, by Byllie-jean

Boasts of fresh new kicks over a strong R&B beat set the tone, but there’s depth and some grimy moments to come. Absolute standout/Silver Scroll finalist ‘Running Amuck’ makes you nod your head while filling it with thoughts about colonialism. Closer ‘E Moko’ slows down and switches to te reo Māori. Short and really bloody good.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Desperate Fools’

14. Skeletons, by Corrella

A second album in two years; roots-reggae band Corrella are working hard while they’re hot. Skeletons has range, with slower numbers alongside the summery backbeat we know them for. ‘Right Side’ deserves a spin at every BBQ, while ballad ‘For The Night’ gets remarkably heartfelt on the line, “A nice cold Lion Red and a backseat for a bed”.

Boiled down to one song: ‘War’

15. Turning Point, by Dark Water

Our first metal, but this trio is let down by a disappointing sonic flatness. The louds aren’t loud enough and the quiet parts ought to back off more. I’d turn up to a Dark Water gig in my blackest T-shirt ready for them to blow this recording out of the water. ‘Seas of Fallen Concern’ has all sorts of potential.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Always Will’

16. Dangerous Day To Be A Cold One, by DARTZ

So, so good. You’re yelling along to a punk song about ripping summertime bongs (‘Paradise’), then find yourself covering the housing crisis and historical Treaty breaches. Smart dressed up as stupid. Like Taites legend Tom Scott, DARTZ celebrate our weird little country while pointing out all the broken bits, and it’s an absolute party.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Gender Reveal Burnout’

17. It’s All Downhill From Here, by Dateline

Enjoyable guitar-driven indie pop livened by sweet harmonies and the odd loud chorus. There’s a clear line though the Beths and Fur Patrol all the way back to Look Blue Go Purple. Snippets of studio banter don’t add much.

Boiled down to one song: Feels like I have to choose ‘Choose Me’

18. Out Of My Head, by Delaney Davidson

It’s hard not to be influenced by Davidson’s impressive back catalogue and many awards. Out Of My Head has a spacious, unshowy atmosphere. Its light country base draws broadly on blues and rock, with some near-cosmic touches. Tap your toes, hum along, and expect to hear new things on your 50th and 100th listens. A lot of talent has gone into downplaying this album’s artistic complexity. Or I’ve been hoodwinked by that damn CV. 

Boiled down to one song: ‘You Drive Me Wild’

Taite Music Prize form guide: Finalist, 2015

19. Uneven Ground, by Death And The Maiden

This unsettling and utterly engaging album is their best yet – a machine-made sound with a distinctly human uneasiness. ‘Not Like’ gets groovy; ‘Leanest Cut’ brings in guitars. Whatever’s backing Lucinda King I could listen all day, if there weren’t still 62 albums to go.

Boiled down to one song: ‘River’

20. Ngā Pounamu, by Dillastrate

Good, with flashes of fantastic. The uptempo stuff is best but there’s a convincing slower side too, all shown off through funk, reggae, soul and more. Mid-verse switches between te reo Māori and English are made seamless by clever rhyme schemes. D&B dancefloor anthem ‘Kei Whati te Marama’ is massive. This Northern Brave fan just learned that TVNZ’s catchy cricket theme song is ‘Ko Tātou te Ahi’.

Boiled down to one song: ‘I’m Crazy’

Read Wiri Donna’s perfect weekend playlist here

21. In My Chambers, by Wiri Donna

Grungy, melodic rock. Especially when she’s in unvarnished speak-singing mode, Wiri Donna injects the right amount of anger into this EP, balancing out the poppier touches. 

Boiled down to one song: ‘Hell or Highwater’

22. Great Haunting, by Earth Tongue

Fuzzed-up doom metal with an old school psychedelic aura and plenty of gothic influence. Gussie Larkin’s low tuning and heavy guitar tones mitigate the need for bass. Ezra Simmons drums and takes on a lot of backing vocals. It’s a big sound for two people; possibly a bit niche to expect heaps of votes.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Bodies Dissolve Tonight!’

Taite Music Prize form guide: Gussie Larkin’s been a finalist (2018 & 2020) with Mermaidens

Read Earth Tongue’s perfect weekend playlist here

23. heartbreak for jetlag, by Vera Ellen

The winner of 2024’s Taite Music Prize isn’t resting on her laurels, or trying to remake Ideal Home Noise – this is an acoustic, 18-minute (but six-song, so it’s eligible) EP centred on a break-up. Sparse guitar, with a little piano and cello, back personal and raw lyrics (“Don’t ask me if I’m going to hate you…Don’t comfort me”). heartbreak for jetlag is an unpolished bedroom recording, and all the better for it.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Enough’

Taite Music Prize form guide: Winner, 2024; finalist, 2022

Read Vera Ellen’s perfect weekend playlist here

24. Phases, by Em

This entry is a YouTube playlist. Creative, but videos of floating clouds don’t add much. Why repeat “phases of the moon, phases of the moon” against a daytime sky? Beautiful acoustic stuff, very well written and arranged, with perfectly dreamy vocals. It just seems little, um, disqualifying that Phases adds only 3 new songs to two EPs from 2023. Em’s won a new fan and, yes, he’s a nark. 

Boiled down to one song: ‘Reach Out’ (2024)

Taite Music Prize form guide: Recording engineer for finalists Tiny Ruins (Ceremony, 2024) Fazerdaze (Break!, 2023) and Te Kaahu (Te Kaahu o Rangi, 2023)

25. Siempre Tiene Flores, by Hannah Everingham

Opens with a lost Tiny Ruins song, I swear, then expands fast. Latin rhythms drive folk songs, country ballads get spacey themes, and darkly comic jazz shows up too. Double bass anchors everything; the variation and Everingham’s voice are strengths. I’m left behind by language once again, but the issue is – twist! – my lack of Spanish.

Boiled down to one song: ‘To Hold’

26. Soft Power, by Fazerdaze

Fazerdaze’s smart bedroom pop returns, just a little quieter and more introspective. ‘Cherry Pie’ and ‘So Easy’ are as catchy as anything in the back catalogue. The last two tracks favour acoustic guitar over electronics. Bring your high expectations, just remember that everyone grows up.

Boiled down to one song: ‘In Blue’

Taite Music Prize form guide: Finalist, 2018 and 2023

27. Flowers Dream, by 花溪 Flowerstream

Sixteen dreamy minutes – not that dreams are always rainbows and sunshine – that follow Fazerdaze nicely. This “genrefluid Chinese/Pākehā/Māori duo” would be perfect playing a divey cocktail bar where the gravity isn’t quite right. They set moods, shift sands, make you wonder who’s watching you.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Procrastination Inspiration’

Read Sam Fowles’ perfect weekend playlist here

28. After Dark, by Sam Fowles

Bluesy rock that, as the name suggests, would probably sound better at nighttime. In the blazing Waitangi Day sun I was struck mostly by a Classic Hits kind of vibe, 80s-style arrangements that sound like they were written on guitar then played on keyboards for some reason. There’s a bit of soul in the slower numbers and the closing guitar solo is the album’s peak. 

Boiled down to one song: ‘Sitting On Top of the World’

29. Midday Prayers, by The Fuzzy Robes

Parody? Maybe. Art? Probably. Head-scratcher? Definitely. The sound of a chilled out folk-rock band microdosing in their Sunday best, including faithful recitations of ‘Psalm 119’ and ‘The Lord’s Prayer’. Not so much giggling in church as staring at the stained glass, seeing shiny shapes that won’t be there tomorrow. Worth repeated listens for sure.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Collect for Midday’

30. DZINDZA, by Thabani Gapara

Accomplished contemporary jazz from a talented saxophonist. There are African rhythms (Gapara is Zimbabwean) and the occasional string quartet, but not enough of either to label it fusion. Regardless of musicianship, not a genre with much chance of making the final.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Mwana Mevhu’

31. Kind Hands, by Goodwill

Singer-songwriter Will McGillivrey sings low and plays slow acoustic guitar. These are songs not for a campfire, but for the ashes. There are snatches of Evan Dando’s saddest solo work; Bon Iver at his most straightforward; Paul McLaney halfway changed into his Gramsci clothes. After guilt, regret and even hospital scenes, things turn slightly more optimistic towards the end. 

Boiled down to one song: ‘Xhale’

32. In Green EP, by Taylor Griffin

Jazz of a rocky, funky variety. Mostly instrumental. Taylor Griffin’s a percussionist with some serious skills and a handy contacts list. Nathan Haines (see #34) and Geoff Ong are among the contributors he takes through some quite complex, often pacey pieces. 

Boiled down to one song: ‘Magnetic’

33. Māui & the Sin, by Diaz Grimm

Disclosure: trappy hip hop isn’t my thing. Anyway, behind a web3/metaverse wrapper – album ownership tokens, 3D avatars – is a mixed bag. Unconvincing boast tracks and vocoder-heavy R&B could be from anywhere in the world. The best, like ‘Pepeha’ and ‘Whakamā Hōhā’, comes from closer to home. ‘Hīkoi’ is 8 minutes of spoken work autobiography, a true marker of self-belief.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Gold’

34. Notes, by Nathan Haines

A third hit of jazz in short order. If 81 albums are a festival this is an hour-plus in the chillout zone. Since the 1990s saxophonist/flautist Haines has been working his ambient, acidic groove so hard that it’s become a trench. Among the few tracks with vocals, ‘Just Holdin’ On’ and ‘Don’t Think’ have revealing names and bland lyrics. ‘Journey to the Peak’ and ‘Get Up to Get Down’ lift the mood. 

Boiled down to one song: ‘Sleek’

35. Nothing Stands Still, by Mike Hall

Polished mid-tempo rock that deserves a larger audience than Spotify’s numbers suggest. There’s something about the vocal range, the harmonies and the spacious sound that evokes Neil Finn, which is a very hard thing to do. As you’d expect from Pluto’s bassist, Hall’s a strong songwriter who subtly avoids obvious patterns.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Warning Shot’

36. High Horse, by Adam Hattaway and the Haunters

Hattaway’s sixth album in five years is laid back, sometimes slow, more rocking chair than rockin’. Countrified with violin and slide guitars, the band’s steady line is occasionally broken by surprising moments like his falsetto, which we first hear on ‘Room to Breathe’. Neither a standout nor a misstep. 

Boiled down to one song: ‘Conical Hill’

37. Write Or Reason, by HIRI

A young muso fuses punky guitar riffs, indie rock, and jazzier songs in an eclectic debut. Seven tracks that prove what HIRI is capable of. Mature moments like ‘A Māori Love Song’, in 3/4 time and with verses in te reo Māori, sit alongside teenage poetry. Surely the start of an interesting discography.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Juliet’

38. Deelishis Herbs, by Te Huhu

Mostly instrumental psychedelic rock with deep guitar solos that echo the hippie era. These grooves could enhance a long road trip, or trips of other sorts. If you’re stationary and sober the slower freakouts can get tiring. A few tracks turn slightly country, which is a definite trend this year. When vocals appear they have heavy reverb. Audio snippets about UFOs and Jesus pan in and out.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Tūrangawaewae’

39. New Horizons, by Nick Hyde

Hyde’s second, and second-best, album in two years. His easy FM-friendly rock channels John Mayer, Goo Goo Dolls, The Calling, and many others. Every track could appear at the serious bit of some American coming-of-age movie while the main couple look at each meaningfully. Generic love songs for any setting.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Where It All Begins’

40. March of the Anorax, by Barry Holt

Reviewed out of order because everyone else in the room vetoed my first attempt. Instrumental, experimental, repetitive things mostly played on keyboards (the small amount of guitar-led stuff is better). ‘Russian Ice Disco’ lasts 10 indefensible minutes. Maybe this album could soundtrack quirky YouTube animations? More likely it will remain a Spotify curio.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Just Desserts’

41. Omen, by Japes

A well-executed and angular mix of industrial trip hop and dark pop. In a very modern sense this is atmospheric music – airy but with space for radiation, pollutants, and surveillance drones. At times Mia Kelly’s vocals have a Lorde-like timbre. The deep, sad pop of ‘Process’ recalls the xx and Billie Eilish, while percussive snips and clicks on ‘Lighter Thief’ could be from Björk’s Vespertine. I liked this one. 

Boiled down to one song: ‘Doom’

42. Where To Begin, by Juno Is

Soft pop of a bedroomy sort. Be careful or it might drift right past you, and then if you had to sum it up after one listen you’d be wondering what just happened. Probably you were set too much at ease by the dreamy vocals and too fixated on the drumming, which is mostly subtle but somehow just right.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Chaos Worked Its Way In’

Read Troy Kingi’s perfect weekend playlist here

43. Leatherman & the Mojave Green, by Troy Kingi

Part eight of Kingi’s monumental 10-10-10 project took him to the Californian wilderness and the home of desert rock – literally in the footsteps of Kyuss, Queens of the Stone Age, etc – where he fit right in. This hits hard, taps into America’s indigenous history and spirituality, and sounds like a party. Surely the only album ever to open with a line about “charging through the rectal area” and also be a very good listen.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Ride the Rhino’

Taite Music Prize form guide: Winner, 2020; finalist, 2021 and 2022

44. L.A.B VI, by L.A.B

A treat for the dogged reviewer of alphabetised artists: consecutive heavy hitters. After yearly albums from 2017-2021, L.A.B VI took time to roll out more of their high-quality kiwi summer sound. Rootsy reggae and more contemporary backbeats sit side-by-side. ‘Take It Away’ rocks a little harder; the out-of-place ‘I Believe’ is a syrupy ballad with an appearance from AJA (see #1).

Boiled down to one song: ‘Ocean Demon’

Taite Music Prize form guide: Finalists, 2020 & 2021

45. The Rose Of Jericho, by Georgia Lines

Piano and swelling strings accompany the first two songs, underlining Lines’ serious vocal talent. Then the album goes pop, getting catchier and making less of her strong and expressive voice. You’ll hear performances that few people could match and you’ll hear reasons for this album’s chart success, mostly separately. In a big finish, ‘Grand Illusions’ hits both marks. 

Boiled down to one song: ‘Start of the Middle’

46. I Need a Battle, by Neil MacLeod

Thoughtful, slow electronica with darkness that swings from a foreboding presence to a comfortable hiding place – a duality found in lines like, “I should probably face my demons and start getting my faith back”. MacLeod’s voice is the main instrument in clever, quiet symbiosis with the machines. Fascinating.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Closer’

47. HIRL, by Marlin’s Dreaming

Quiet, single-paced indie pop from a four-piece band. The introspective template from debut Lizard’s Tears (2017) remains with even fewer edges. Spots of slide guitar and harmonica differentiate songs a little and Erny Belle lends a useful hand on ‘Earnestly’.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Every Single Time’

48. Shine On, by Nigel Marshall

Bluesy, jazzy rock made for lazy afternoons in country pubs. Marshall’s old-timer storytelling includes childhood memories, character sketches and environmental warnings.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Tūī’

49. ONO, by Moana & the Tribe

We’re not 50 albums in and this is the eighth to feature te reo Māori. The language would be much further from the musical mainstream without Moana Maniapoto’s decades of dedication. ONO travels the indigenous world in collaborations with wāhine from Norway, Australia, Taiwan, Canada, Hawai’i and Scotland. Musically spacious, it really works. The art has obvious depth; I’m out of mine.

Boiled down to one song (which feels really reductive this time): ‘Tōku Reo’

Taite Music Prize form guide: Tahi (1993) received the 2019 Independent Music NZ Classic Record award

50. About Time, by Rikki Morris

Feeling very old thanks to consecutive artists who I remember from my primary school days, which began in the 80s. I really wanted to like this one, but it’s too middle of the road, too predictable. Easy listening that doubles down on easy – as we will see, the exact opposite of #51.

Boiled down to one song: ‘The Saddest Sound’

51. Miracle Healing Crusade, by Moider Mother

Brace yourself. New Zealand’s least wholesome family band put actual mother murderers on the album cover. Song titles include ‘Brick in a Stocking’ and ‘El Cadaver Incompleto’. Bass guitar rattles and thumps terribly low; drums are smashed. Hannah Harte wails sorely and offensively over her brothers’ racket. A dull blanket of lo-fi production makes everything less confronting than it should be.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Molested by a Jehovah’

Read Mokotron’s perfect weekend playlist here

52. WAEREA, by MOKOTRON

I’m a middle aged, middle class, monolingual, Pākehā father of two and, boy, do I feel every single one of those things when Mokotron’s on. The deep bass gets me dad-dancing and the sound of the koauau raises goosebumps. But I’m an outsider looking in, missing out, not comprehending half of what’s happening amid the breaks (vocals are all chanted in te reo Māori). There’s a lot to take in if you can: Tiopira McDowell has both brought audiences to tears and downplayed himself as a “novelty act”.

Boiled down to one song: ‘KŌPEKE’

53. The Dreams of Our Mothers’ Mothers!, by Mousey

Ouch, genre change whiplash. Stylewise, Mousey is out on her own with cinematic songs that have quiet home recording aesthetics. Her thoughts and fears (“I’m not quite sure why I’m singing about this one”) unfold alongside slow acoustic guitar, driving drumbeats, modern folk music, fuzzy samples. It’s deceptive, unique and beautiful. 

Boiled down to one song: ‘Dog Park’

Read Mousey’s perfect weekend playlist here

54. Bright Black Night, by Mystery Waitress

Quality rock with fewer surprises or gimmicks than you might get from other Flying Nun bands. Instead Mystery Waitress rely on smart lyrics, lead guitar that drives songs without hogging the spotlight and, in Tessa Dillon, a fine vocalist. Paired tracks ‘Pt 1. Hospital’ and ‘Pt 2. Tiger’ exemplify their smarts.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Nightbug’

55. Behind the Mask, by Newzerror

Scandal! Newzerror entered the same album last year. To plagiarise my old Hamilton Underground Press review: Metal riffs straight from the days when Metallica and Anvil shared festival stages and wind machines. If (and only if) you’re a Devilskin fan, give it a whirl.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Hold On’

56. The Big Sulk, by Louisa Nicklin

Serious talent. Smart songwriting and arrangements give you space to think about what you hear, which includes captivating singing with impressive range. Nicklin’s songs don’t take the beaten path. Some crack the off-kilter code of Amnesiac-era Radiohead‘s urgent drumming and cycling bass. Elsewhere things bend under slow harmonics and harmonies. ‘Can’t See’ meditates on the spot. It’s all very, very good.

Boiled down to one song: ‘The Highs’

57. The other side of things​.​#gg​!​jttr, by The North East Valley

Ambient electronica of middling quality. Some reasonably effective moments like ‘Company of god LLC’ sit next to repetitive laptop demos. As the Bandcamp notes say, “I was mucking around and this came out”.

Boiled down to one song: ‘No Content’

58. Grey Eyes, Grey Lynn, by Jim Nothing

S’been a long wait for some upbeat indie rock, but worth it. This is wonderful. Every track adds something. Bike-like ‘Easter at the RSC’ mixes sweet pop with distorted guitars. ‘Can’t Find It Now’ lasts just 66 cute seconds. ‘Raleigh Arena’ rocks straight ahead. ‘The Pass’ has a hippyish jangle fit for the Elephant 6 collective.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Lucky Charm’

59. Doggerland, by Office Dog

Typical. You spend all day waiting for one indie rock release, then two turn up at once. Office Dog take on some serious subject matter in a relatively positive way, though not as brightly as 2023’s Spiel. They do a good job of finding a more measured sound but can’t resist stamping on the pedals near the end. An interesting signpost.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Can’t Wait’

60. Growing Taller, by Parallel Park

Ignore that last thing I said. You spend all day waiting and then three indie rock releases turn up at once. Parallel Park are youthful and serious, impressively complete for a band that played Rockquest a couple of years ago. There are groovier moments, grungier bits, radio-ready pop songs. A well-compiled album with range and chops.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Can We Talk?’

61. The Novel, by PARK RD

A fourth consecutive rock band and, ironically, the least novel. They signal potential with the tender, half-whispered opener ‘June’, then tumble into undifferentiated pop-punk. In heavier songs with the perfect formula for massive choruses, the band turns it all the way up to, oh, about 7. Moments are described but not created (indeed: “I romanticise until I feel nothing”). PARK RD will improve.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Did It Anyway’

62. Sabotage, by Mel Parsons

Mel Parsons softly walks the line between country and alt-country. On Sabotage she blends in a wisp of folk, replacing the rockier edge we’ve heard from her previously, and it’s a successful evolution. This is a high-grade album, serious, understated and perfectly pitched. The harmonies are a highlight.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Sabotage’

Taite Music Prize form guide: Finalist, 2019

63. Pony Baby, by Pony Baby

This spontaneous and fun collaboration between Jazmine Mary, whose solo work twists jazz into strange arty shapes, and Arahi, best known for Silver Scroll-nominated ballad ‘My Baby’s Like a Hurricane’, evolves from a surreal little waltz about dreams to banjo-rich songs about horses, guns and whiskey. Friends co-writing and harmonising for the shared enjoyment of it.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Known’

Taite Music Prize form guide: Best Independent Debut Award – Jazmine Mary, 2022

64. Disappointing Sequel, by REPAIRS

Good, noisy post-punk in the aggressive and full-on vein of Die! Die! Die! Among mostly dialled-back nominations this dark and frenetic niche stands out. Guitars drone and squeal, anxious lungs are emptied at full volume. Disappointing Sequel is more industrial and more fully realised than Repeat, Repeat (2020). Right album, wrong name. 

Boiled down to one song: ‘Map, Territory’

Read Revulva’s perfect weekend playlist here

65. Revulva, by Revulva

An unforgettable name that didn’t make me expect funky jazz. It’s fitting that I misjudged this album by its cover, because Phoebe Johnson loves a cliche (“I’m rubber, you’re glue…”, “This town ain’t big enough…”). The brass section sounds effortlessly cool – a sure sign that they’re working hard. Some tracks get orgasmic; ‘Landlord’ is very schmoove for a track that suggests we should eat the rich. 

Boiled down to one song: ‘Compromise’

66. right now, forever, by Lucian Rice

Formerly stupid rich kid, Lucian Rice now goes by his own name and even uses capital letters sometimes. His music has gotten less anonymous, too. This EP sits between bedroom emo rock and fuzzy shoegaze. The effects on ‘spineback’ and ‘ninezero’ are particularly, well, effective. right now, forever is young, personal, and good. The kid ain’t stupid anymore.

Boiled down to one song: ‘spineback’

67. Thunderhead, by Fraser Ross

Fraser Ross takes us over the ocean, across the Ganges and into the mythical wilderness, mostly America’s untamed west with hints of the Celtic highlands. We hear totemic influences like Leonard Cohen, in Ross’s low and unvarnished voice, and pre-electric Bob Dylan in the phrasing of the (very good) title track. A folky, expansive ramble with an educated guide.

Boiled down to one song: ‘You Are So Steep’

68. Lonely Playground, by Shooless

A highly adaptable five-piece band. Chilled bass-led crooning, mood-setting rock with bluesy notes, grunge, heavier blasts with a metallic tinge, even rap-rock. They play it all with precision and cleverly dropped beats. But with so much in the mix Lonely Playground is unfocused. Guy Yarrall’s vocal range suffers in comparison as Freya Pinkerton skillfully rides from choirgirl to aggressive rock chick.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Deep Inside’

69. Tiger In The River, by SKILAA

Wordy, smart neo-soul with a twist of jazz. Closely harmonised vocals slide over uptempo, skittering drums and walking bass. Rap interjects every now and then, and guitar lines hold it all together without grabbing attention. Song structures keep you guessing. There are NSFW moments, one of which includes a shoutout to 95bFM.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Jenny Greenteeth’

70. Of Sea and Sky, by South For Winter

A soft and pleasant collision of classical guitar, cello, country-shuffling folk, lilting ballads and crystal voices. Evergreen poetic themes like nature and murder add to the overall renaissance vibe. Looks like this trio is one-third New Zealander, two-thirds American—by the Taite rules, insufficiently local.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Something in the Stars’

71. Queen Of The Rain, by The Spines

Mostly harmless. The umpteenth version of Jon McLeary’s band of outsiders plays folky rock that doesn’t stand out, especially with 70 albums to compete against and 10 more to come. His singing is a bit forced and eclectic instrumentation (strings, vibraphone, maracas, harmonica…) adds less than you’d hope.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Buckets of Blood’

72. Little Triggers, by Sally Stockwell

A theatre professional makes a pop-ish album about motherhood. It requires attention but I found it tricky to keep focus as it swayed between an actor giving a performance and a writer singing her own poems. Sometimes (‘Pin It Down’) it all comes together. Other times the concept weighs on the delivery.

Boiled down to one song: ‘The Living Subordinate’

73. Rescue Me, by Tablefox

Radio-friendly rock without a single rough edge. It opens with the best bit (the anthemic ‘Some Say So’) racks a few formulaic songs side-by-side, and includes a cover of Australian Crawl’s 1983 classic ‘Reckless (Don’t Be So…)’ which, according to Spotify’s recklessly curated data, was written by Tablefox?

Boiled down to one song: ‘Mother’

74. Las Tetas, by Las Tetas

Recorded before Las Tetas disappeared from Auckland’s rock scene over a decade ago, and finally released when they reunited last year. Does it count as 2024 music? This self-appointed judge will allow it. Energy and immediacy bleeds through loose, loud punk and garage-y indie pop. Their Kings Arms gigs must’ve been something: you can almost hear the sweat.

Boiled down to one song: ‘The French Song’

75. The Aurochs, by Thousand Limbs

Instrumental post-metal of a doomy, melodic sort. It takes skill and variation to carry an entire album without a vocalist, and these guys do well. There’s texture to appreciate as tracks thoughtfully develop over some quite long runtimes. Spots of piano break through the darkness too.

Boiled down to one song: ‘The Aurochs – Aligned’

76. Songs of Rangiaowhia, by Mara TK, Ria Hall, Rakai Whauwhau, Hawkins (Oceans Before Me)

Sorted under “TK” before I saw the album credited to Oceans Before Me, a not-for-profit that brings musicians together to tell indigenous history. These songs remember Rangiaowhia, a wartime refuge for Māori women and children, which British troops attacked in 1864. In English they directly describe that day’s deadly violence and the long aftermath of brutal colonialism (‘Alienated’). The main language is te reo Māori, leaving me  mired in cultural incompetence once again (see #1-3). In styles spanning dub, reggae, haka, ballad and R&B I heard reflective sorrow, not anger. But what did I miss?

Boiled down to one song: For my fellow monolinguists it’s ‘Alienated’

Taite Music Prize form guide: Ria Hall, finalist (2021)

77. Aquatopialien, by VIDA

From 1864 to the future! Once humanity evolves sufficiently, space stations will have smoky cocktail bars and this will be our soundtrack. Late night alien soul music with sonic experimentation and some impressive instrumental flourishes. Come for the delightful bonkersness, stay for the perfect three- (maybe four-?) part vocal harmonies.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Monkey Mind’

78. Upstairs/Downstairs, by Hannah Virk

Naïve, childlike oddity played on casiotone, ukulele, and other toys. Parts are improvised, parts fall out of sync, nothing holds it all together.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Pretty Sure’

79. Whanganui Songwriters 2024, by Whanganui Songwriters

A big Friday night at the Whanganui Musicians’ Club and a cool project. Eleven songs, each from a different singer-songwriter, recorded live with the same backing band (with studio embellishment added later). The Taite rule against “multiple artist compilations” might be an issue, as might a horny song about being too old to date a 29-year-old, but that’s just big-city nitpicking.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Running With the Devil’

80. Yon Loader, by Yon Loader

A collaborative recording project led by James Stuteley (Carb On Carb) that aims directly at fans of 1990s indie rock (hi!) and hits the target. It’s dialled back, a little angsty and alienated, with emo energy that can reach into pop-punkish, post-grungish areas. As vocalists swap in and out, Victoria Chellew shines brightest.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Another Year’

81. Come Closer, by Zuke

Deep electronica and D&B that, at this late stage, feels a little like the end credits. One to revisit on a long day of working from home, or towards the end of a long night. Zuke works the synths hard and builds a range of moods, most of which I’m too tired to feel.

Boiled down to one song: ‘Hyperion’

New Zealand, we’re a bit quiet and country-tinged this year. Down on party anthems and up on thoughtfulness. It’s good to hear more te reo Māori and fewer fake American accents. There’s some interesting new talent coming through, and some familiar names that are ready for much bigger things.

As for the Taite Music Prize itself, I learned last year how bad I am at predictions. So, to curse a few artists’ chances with praise: DARTZ seem well-placed with not a lot of other socially aware punk bands to split their vote. Louisa Nicklin and Mousey are closer to the year’s dominant mood and both wonderfully inventive. Mokotron is doing stuff like nobody else and earning a lot of love. L.A.B have been close before and haven’t exactly gotten worse since then. AJA has stuck in my mind right from the start. Mike Hall, much better at making music than self-promotion, is my dark horse. Should none of them become $12,500 richer in April, I take full responsibility.

Keep going!
The poster for Tinā the film, a pink background with a woman in Samoan attire front and centre and four uniformed school students on either side of her in the background
The film poster for Tinā

Pop CultureFebruary 27, 2025

An argument with myself about Tinā, the movie of the moment

The poster for Tinā the film, a pink background with a woman in Samoan attire front and centre and four uniformed school students on either side of her in the background
The film poster for Tinā

Mad Chapman agreed to write a review of Tinā and found it impossible. Instead she argues with herself about the biggest film in Aotearoa right now.

I can’t believe we’re resorting to this format. What’s so hard about writing a review? Lots of other writers have written reviews.

Reviewing in New Zealand is a fraught exercise. Those reviewing are often practitioners themselves, or know the creatives behind the project. Even so, I’ve reviewed plenty of local films, TV shows and plays, but this one felt different. The only thing more fraught than reviewing in New Zealand is reviewing something from “within the community”. Be too glowing and people assume you’re just saying that because of proximity, be too critical and you’re “bringing down your own people”, tall poppy etc. 

OK so argument it is. But first let’s get the usual “review” context out of the way. Tinā is the story of Mareta Percival aka Tinā (Anapela Polataivao), a grieving mother who begins teaching at a snooty Christchurch private school and starts a choir there. 

Set in 2014, three years on from the Christchurch earthquakes (in which Percival loses her only daughter), Tinā is Percival’s journey of grief, acceptance and generosity. A classic fish-out-of-water tale.

Anapela Polataivao as Tinā in the film Tinā, looking out a bus window with her face reflected in the glass
Anapela Polataivao as Mareta Percival in Tinā (Image: Supplied)

And I loved it! Even before I saw it I knew it was right up my alley. Good cast, underdog tale, Samoan hymns. The acting across the board was some of the best I’ve ever seen in a local film. Antonia Robinson as struggling student Sophie was given plenty to work with to show off her range and she delivered. Beulah Koale was the standout of the supporting cast as Percival’s concerned nephew fighting his own demons.

I agree, and Polataivao was of course the star. But for an actor of her skill, the role was perhaps underutilised. She has such a presence that the writers could have afforded to give her character more edge without losing her humanity. Yes she swears and is snarky and a bit messy but is ultimately a resigned, humble woman. I was waiting to see Polataivao rage out, or turn on some faux charm even just to show off her skills. 

The film is very clearly marketed as a wholesome tearjerker and on that it absolutely delivers. Did you cry?

Yes I did cry.

Exactly. And did you crack up at the island humour and side-eyes?

You know I did.

So what’s so hard about saying that? Review done.

Because as much as Tinā was exactly the type of movie I’d typically love, and as much as I did love parts of it, and very much love the fact that it exists, I have many other thoughts about it.

Sigh… you’re going to bring up the brown martyr aspect aren’t you.

Yes! Did you pause at all when you realised this was a Samoan story but only like four of the speaking characters are actually Samoan? 

I kind of did, but it’s set in a private school in Christchurch so it would be unrealistic for everyone to be brown. And the whole point of the story is that they are from completely different worlds, which I liked. 

Sure, but then is it really a story about a Samoan woman or is it a story about a group of palagi rich kids being taught that poor people and other cultures exist? I couldn’t help but grimace at the martyr storyline of this (literally) poor brown woman being given a job at a private school because she could “offer the kids something different” with zero consideration of what that might take away from her (which is not insignificant). And it’s all a lovely thing, apparently.

But isn’t that a realistic portrayal of private school administrations? You went to private school and encountered similar expectations so as grating as some of those characters might be, they’re sadly accurate which means you can’t fault the filmmakers for being true to life.

You’re right that it’s accurate but in Tinā the character that says that is supposed to be the good guy! He’s the well-meaning character who is ultimately all good. The villain characters are absolutely caricatures, with the evil principal-in-waiting and abusive board chair – who, by the way, could’ve just been the same character. 

Again, sadly these are people who exist in real life. I guarantee there are board members at private schools around the country who say far worse things behind closed doors than the characters in this movie. And the audience in my screening audibly gasped when those characters had their worst moments, so evidently it’s doing something to shock people into remembering this stuff is out there and experienced by Pasifika constantly.

Is it shocking them or is it making them feel good about the fact that they themselves don’t do that? I would’ve loved to see the “villains” be a bit more realistic, which is that those same men are often beloved and respected in their own communities, and often for good reason. They can be genuinely lovely and generous and kind, and also racist and narrow-minded. 

When I wrote a scathing critique of private schooling (as someone who benefited from private schooling) following the revelation that MP Sam Uffindell had assaulted a fellow student at King’s and been quietly moved along, I immediately received an email from my alma mater. I dreaded opening it, assuming they’d be furious at my criticisms. They should’ve been because they were absolutely part of the problem I was critiquing. But it was the opposite. A senior staff member had emailed to say she loved what I’d written because of course their private school would never do that. 

That woman was well-meaning and a great teacher, but genuinely believed she was exempt from class criticism because she didn’t condone violence. I guarantee she will watch  Tinā and love it, and would view herself as the noble, well-meaning principal who hired Percival so she could “offer something different”. See what I mean? In another movie (that I’d absolutely watch) that character would be the only villain you needed, but here he’s one of the heroes.

A still from Tinā showing seven school students lying down with their heads alongside each other
A still from Tinā (Image: Supplied)

I suppose that does sound like an interesting sequel. I agree that some of the framing at times felt clunky but that is one hell of a tightrope you’re expecting films like these to walk. It’s a movie designed for a broad audience and you can’t argue with the reception, it’s been pretty much universally applauded so you may be alone in your hating. 

I’m not actually hating, I did genuinely enjoy it! But unfortunately given the dearth of both reviewers and also Pacific journalists I feel compelled to point out that while it is a beautiful film, it feels more targeted to a “mainstream” (read: palagi) audience. Percival is “flawed”, meaning she swears and is on the benefit and doesn’t start out particularly interested in anyone else, but ultimately she only ever behaves in noble, righteous ways. She’s an extremely easy brown person to get behind. And likewise, outside of the caricatured villains, all the white characters are equally noble and righteous, they just need to be patiently shown the way by *checks notes* the poor, Samoan teacher. 

So what if it’s made with a mainstream/white audience in mind? Are all Pacific creatives required to only ever make art that is for Pacific audiences? And by the way, I’ve heard only glowing reviews from Pacific audiences as well. Aren’t you a big promoter of Pacific artists just making whatever they want and not having to be representatives all the time? Nothing wrong with just making a movie, getting some work and moving on to the next project. Not everything has to tick every box. Sounds like you’re expecting a lot more from Pacific films than other films.

Maybe I am. And I’m sure the synopsis of this film made it easier for funding bodies to support it (bleak) so can’t fault the team behind it for that. But part of me shudders whenever a film falls into the dreaded middle ground. I would’ve loved a buzzy, random, weird film made by Pacific people. I would have also loved a deeply cultural film that is ten toes down Samoan. I would have also loved a classic tearjerker where people’s race is irrelevant and nothing to do with the plot.

I think my conflict around Tinā is that it is presented and marketed as a deeply Pacific film where race and culture is at the heart of its story, but in execution is closer to a classic tearjerker for a predominantly Palagi audience. Either would be great! But it will inevitably become the most recognisable Pacific-New Zealand film in the world, and despite its name and title character, Tinā feels, to me, more about the palagi people (and audiences) Tinā is helping to grow than Tinā herself.

‘Love The Spinoff? Its future depends on your support. Become a member today.’
Madeleine Chapman
— Editor

OK well that is much more convoluted than my thoughts in the theatre which were “wow great acting” or “I love this hymn” or *crying*. Did you like any parts of it?

I loved a lot of it! The scenes where Tinā’s teaching the kids, especially the beautiful scene of them learning to breathe together. I loved when she was at home or interacting with her old teacher friend (Nicole Whippy, excellent as always as the audience conduit). I loved any interaction with other non-private school characters and wished we’d got to spend more time with her alone.

I loved the soundtrack, even the crack up choral rendition of ‘Welcome Home’ which was very on the nose. Anyone who’s ever tried to find Samoan hymns on Spotify will recognise the Samoan Teachers Training College choir throughout.

I also loved the soundtrack but would have loved more silence in the score. For a film about the silent struggle of grief, there was pretty much not a single moment of silence. 

I was impressed that it carried to two hours without feeling long, where typically local films feel as if they’re stretching to get to 90 minutes. There was enough story there to last the distance.

I agree. There were probably a couple of side plot points that could’ve been cut without losing the heart of the story (probably one too many hospital scenes and not sure what was going on with the Palagi priest speaking Samoan and being so prevalent), but that’s the editor in me talking.

I think I know the answer to this but what did you think of the ending? I was extremely emotional watching it and found it quite beautiful. There were plenty of sniffles around me too.

I think the ending nearly worked but for me it didn’t quite stick the landing, largely because of what I’ve ranted about above and some other points I can’t detail for spoiler reasons. I’m sure most others would disagree though.

So do you think people should watch Tinā?

Absolutely. Just please don’t clap when the white teenager pronounces “talofa” correctly.