Gig Review: Pumpkinhead @ Loons, Christchurch – 11/10/2025

Whatever the drivers of the latest trends may be, it seems that reunion gigs are one of those trends. And look at what we have seen of late: On these shores this year alone, Split Enz, Tadpole, Tahuna Breaks, Blindspott, Supergroove, Minuit, High Dependency Unit… plus (of course) the slew of high-profile international acts getting back together or playing again after years and years – Oasis, Black Sabbath, Rush (announced this week), Pulp, TV On The Radio, Sugababes…

Some of these seem engineered deliberately as nostalgia events (Oasis being the principal), whilst others are tours quietly promoted by bands exiting a period of recess to recommence their thing one more time (High Dependency Unit). So when Christchurch band of old Pumpkinhead announced this month’s gigs to celebrate 30 years of their seminal 1995 album Sloth, it seemed right on trend. But the question was how nostalgic will this be? Will Sloth be played start-to-finish, as was the trend a few years ago (Pink Floyd started it, The National did it, even Linkin Park did it with Hybrid Theory), or will this gig be forward-facing, igniting and releasing new energy with a promise of more to come?

The gig begins with support act Velveteen – ostensibly a solo act of Jai Oakley but playing here with a full band including his younger brother on drums and backing vocals (plus, if I heard it right, their bass player Rowan who “has a blood condition, went to hospital, but has now drunk 50 beers and is ok!”). They plough through a pumping half hour of their signature up-tempo rock that is somewhat angsty yet emo. There’s Hypertrophic and Codeine from their album Heavy Machinery before a new song Black Light, which Oakley announces will be on a new album they are now recording. It’s quite a task supporting a prominent main act whose fan base is years older than you are and still arriving at the venue, but Velveteen gave it a good go. By the end of their set the crowd is engaged and warmed up.

Next up is PistolGrip, who first formed in 1995 and now have a new lineup, still fronted by Peter Malthus. This is a pummelling form of punk music (two basses, no guitar) and with driving staccato arrangements (think Shellac or The Jesus Lizard) but it is softened by the hilarious and still current observations of Malthus on society’s underbelly and unspeakable oddities. This is all delivered with abrasive loudness and intensity but with such humour you can’t help but be taken away by it. The scene is set from the opening Feel Bigger with a Trigger (which is “just for the USA”) and the next song Too Tough to Give a Flying Fuck (Chorus: “Flying fuck / Flying fuck / Flying fuck / Fuck-fuck-fuck!”). These are songs that address singular topics head-on: shitty cars of old girlfriends, sick cats, piss-ups, hangovers, sadomasochists, dole cheques and driving too fast.

It’s weird that none of this sounds historical, and rather comes over as a celebration of the richness and absurdity of life, whatever time you think you’re living in. There’s a partial cover of Salt’n’Pepa’s Push It, which is about the only specific reference to times gone by. Otherwise, it’s relevant and current and a total blast. Malthus knows we’re loving it too – between each song he thanks the audience with humility and gratitude that is utterly genuine and with warmth, despite the grittiness of the music: “Good on yas!” The whole thing has an unpretentious mix of self-confidence and timelessness, despite being so clearly rooted in 1990’s punk.

Eventually, after 40 minutes PistolGrip admit their time has come and that, really, no one is here to see them (an assumption I find hardly convincing – plus there is the matter of them personally thanking those who wore their PistolGrip tee shirts tonight). And so it’s time for Pumpkinhead.

In almost total darkness the set begins with a full three minutes of drones and electronic atmospheric sounds giving way to pulsing and clicking rhythms, until eventually, in the darkness, we see men donning guitars… and boom, it begins.

Jason Peters’ thundering drums intro to Bateman brings up the lights and launches the band into full flight immediately. Vocalist Brent Milligan wears a bright orange and menacing pumpkin mask with a black hood, and begins dancing and screaming with a huge physical presence (we find out later he’s 6’4” and 15 stone, and honestly looks like a prison guard who works out eight hours a day). Next up are Erase, Inflatable Man Syndrome and Holed – all from the Sloth album and delivered with a taut intensity and power. Before long Milligan has taken off the mask (revealing and very aggressive Mohican / dreads combo) and has taken off his shirt. Between songs he takes his water bottle into his mouth and sprays fountains of atomized water into the beams of the stage lights. There’s Home, Water, Between the Lines … which all get the crowd increasingly pumped.

This is a band that sounds tight across the board and delivers the songs as if they are more seasoned than they probably are (at one point Milligan says they have only had four practices, which if true, suggests this stuff was hard-wired into them in the 1990’s). Aaron Hogg on guitar is particularly impressive, as is Peters on drums. Age doesn’t seem to be getting much of them for the most part (except perhaps for Vaughan Watson on bass, who is as tight as it gets but plays the whole gig seated beside Peters). Hogg looks like he is a pro skateboarder, while second guitarist Francis Hunt begins in a suit jacket and it looks like he’s now a consultant physician. But it’s one hell of a noise they make, and by the time they play Sloth the intensity is peaking. “These last few songs are pretty mosh-friendly,” Hogg declares as they fire into Be Sure, and from here there is crowd surfing, the whole front half of the crowd is bouncing, there’s at least one fight … it’s easy to get the impression all concerned are re-living some half-drunk memories of 30 years ago – and loving it. By the penultimate Nark (Rat on Your Neighbour) everyone seems to agree this as good as it gets for re-experiencing the maddest gigs of the 1990’s.

So, nostalgia does seem to be the order of the day, reassuring and pure fun as it is. I got the impression the band themselves were at least as caught up in it as this audience of 50-somethings. Much of the banter between songs was about what old farts they are now, and how they can’t believe this was the time of their lives and it was so long ago – almost as if they have surprised themselves to still be around, still standing upright and making such a ruckus. It was almost melancholic to hear, and made for quite a contrast to the madness and energy of youth so projected by their driving performance of these songs. The lesson seems to be, don’t worry about how old you think you are – just show up to gigs, dance, play music and give it all you’ve got.