Gig Review: Tom Scott @ The Civic, Auckland – 1/11/2025

Emerging from the creation of some of Aotearoa’s most prolific hip-hop acts (@Peace, Avantdale Bowling Club, Home Brew), Tom Scott has finally gone solo – an act as spontaneous as it is fortunate. Tonight, we witness a musical trailblazer in the midst of his come-up, performing with the kind of passion this industry so desperately needs. His debut album Anitya has been circulating through local ears and eyes since October 10th and has quickly become one of the most enduring and soul-freeing musical projects of 2025. It took blood, sweat, and tears to write, and just as much to bring this show to life. Now, it’s finally here at Auckland’s Civic Theatre on November 1st, with almost every seat filled.

The album is nothing short of the rawest embodiment of pain, loss, trauma, and sacrifice – yet equally a signal of hope, love, freedom, re-emergence, and the impermanence of our human experience. “Anitya” actually means impermanence. It’s Tom’s way of saying nothing truly lasts, yet nothing can exist without the existential flow of it all. A deep thinker in an age of conformity and boxes, a cage is the last thing you’ll see this artist embody – unless it’s the cage of the mind. The performance moves through the crevices of exactly this: the mind, and the inner world Tom explores in this defiant new chapter of his musical journey.

The show opened with a kind of comedic intermission – a makeshift karaoke skit hosted by none other than Dai Henwood; a relaxed, tongue-in-cheek prelude to what would follow. Then, without warning, it all launched – and within seconds, you understood just how special it was to be part of this crowd. The stage, cast in red light, opened with Is This The Intro or The Outro, a song that captures the album’s central theme: the birth and death of a relationship. It’s hard to tell what comes first – the chicken or the egg, the meeting or the parting, the opening or the closing. It was a brilliant way to begin a show built around the passage of time and emotional transformation.

Next came I Just Came Round To Say Goodbye Again, exploring the act of returning to something – or someone – just to see how it’s changed. The performance featured an interpolation of Ebo Taylor’s Love and Death (a nod to the Ghanaian jazz musician), evident through the rhythmic use of bongos toward the end of the track. It was a striking fusion that showcased Tom’s long-held love of jazz. The lighting changes were equally creative, and the cubic arrangement of the eight-piece band added a visual harmony to the sound.

Each member performed with precision, energy, and remarkable chemistry. You could tell you were watching some of Aotearoa’s best musicians – their timing was tight, their transitions flawless, and their energy unyielding. It was as if the entire show had been rehearsed for months, yet it still carried the thrill of something being done for the first time. From the expressive keys to the purging saxophone, the pulsing energy on drums, the soaring vocals, vivid lyrics, and sharp guitar licks – the set genuinely felt like a modern symphony. Every cue felt like it landed perfectly, every emotion was deliberate, and the audience was completely captivated from start to finish. The energy shifted seamlessly through each emotional turn of the album, allowing the band to deliver a raw and authentic interpretation of its message.

The venue itself buzzed with liveliness, cheer, and a few moments of chaos – the kind that makes a live show unforgettable. After Khloe came Til then, the album’s first released single, performed with the same balance of coherence and emotion that defined the night. Tom was a true thespian of the stage – embodying his past work and persona, only now more evolved.

Message 2 Miles followed – a hauntingly beautiful song about navigating separation from the parent of your child, leaving behind reassurance while fighting not to repeat generational trauma. Then came How To Perform A Lobotomy – a spectral, dance-driven piece in which a solo performer embodied pain through fragmented, almost violent gestures, translating Tom’s lyrics into motion.

After a brief interlude, two Home Brew classics – Drinking In The Morning and Run It Back – sent the crowd into uproar, greeted with unrestrained love. One of the night’s highlights came with Gyal Like You, a track full of brilliant drum and key work, outfit changes, and theatrical flair. It perfectly captured the second half of the album’s story: finding new love, venturing beyond old wounds, reclaiming trust, and opening your heart once more. Disc 2 reimagines life beginning again – rebuilding from what once was, and doing so with grace and intention.

As the night drew to a close, you could feel gratitude coursing through the room – from the audience to the stage and back again. It was as if everyone there, musicians and listeners alike, recognised the fragile wonder of simply being present. You could see it in Tom’s expression, in the quiet smiles exchanged between bandmates, and in the crowd’s stillness between songs. There was a shared understanding that despite life’s darkness – the pain, loss, and uncertainty that shape us all – there remains an unshakable sense of hope. Perhaps the hope is that we can still create art despite the world’s torments. Perhaps the hope is that we can still love through loss. That gratitude, for me, became the heartbeat of the evening: a reminder that impermanence is not something to fear, but something to honour. Because even when the lights dim and the final note fades, we are still here – feeling, loving, and grateful to be alive in a time where even the smallest political or technological shift can change everything. And, from one contrarian to another, I can tell you that honouring and showcasing the charm of impermanence could be one of the most visionary concepts we’ve just witnessed in music. A big nod from me to this maestro of thought and performance, and a big thank you from Muzic.NZ for the opportunity to write about it.