Garbage: Live Review 

Shirley Manson has a lot on her mind.

Yet it's when the Garbage frontwoman reveals that this could be the last time they ever venture down here that the audience fully focuses.

Photo: Mike Kilpatrick

It's a bitter body blow to fans of the group which formed in 1993 and is part of the current wave of heritage bands touring New Zealand (Metallica, Pixies, Tool and Lenny Kravitz have all recently rocked the country), but the reality of the financial aspect of touring Down Under and the futility of trying to keep costs under control is brought sharply into focus in one of Manson's moments on stage.

She may spend much of a stormy night in Auckland wondering if she's talking too much, but the passion and power that tumbles from her mouth between songs and exhortations for a packed-out Town Hall crowd to join in is nothing that can be denied.

Photo: Mike Kilpatrick

Five songs in, after Run Baby Run, a platinum pony-tailed Manson finally addresses the crowd, asking for forgiveness if they "sound cliched" in their fulsome praise of New Zealand and expressing undying gratitude for the way fans have embraced their music over the years.

And as the set progresses, any transgressions are easily forgiven in this compelling mix of past and present. In truth, it's an absolutely ferocious Garbage that takes the stage, delivering hits from their 1995 debut ("Let's take a Dr Who's Tardis to the time before modern monsters", Manson teases before a hypnotic Not My Idea is unleashed) and songs from their latest, Let All That We Imagine Be The Light, via hits from their plethora of albums.

Prowling the stage and circling like a caged tiger, Manson's both playful and seductive as she parades between guitarists Duke Erikson and Steve Marker. As their industrial-tinged music fills the Town Hall with its howling melody, the crowd builds to an almost frenetic and frenzied edge in parts, all controlled by Manson's messianic motions and playful grins.

The group's never sounded better, never sounded tighter and never sounded so sure about what they're delivering. It's just a shame that this really could be their last visit to these shores, given how fresh they still sound, how urgent their music still lingers 30 years on and how rational Manson's political exhortations and ideas are.

Photo: Mike Kilpatrick

Before launching into Bleed Like Me, she provides context of how Interscope records lost faith in them and how their own single-minded ethos propelled them on; before a slinky and hypnotic Queer she delivers an impassioned speech urging kindness as she watches on as the US tramples over trans rights; and before Chinese Fire Horses, she tells how two journalists asked when she was retiring as she did press for an album launch. None of these moments topple over into preaching and even within the church-like surroundings of the Town Hall, the religious devotion she inspires by just simply delivering sense is a thing to behold.

The crowd laps it all up, but what becomes clear in this is just how much Garbage has had to fight for their own survival throughout their life and how with every obstacle in their way, they've continued to deliver and pushed back at every possible opportunity.

32 years on, it seems Garbage has lost none of their fire - or their urgency and catharsis.

The triumvirate of When I Grow Up, Push It and Cherry Lips in the final stretch of their 2-hour performance shows them completely in command of their audience and with material that still sparkles with urgency three decades on. It may be that the older tracks deliver the biggest cheers tonight, and an encore of Stupid Girl and Only Happy When It Rains sees the audience collectively lose their mind, but the band is revelling in being at the height of their powers.

Photo: Mike Kilpatrick

From Butch Vig's punishing rhythms on the drums to Steve and Duke's guitars-led melodies, every note is pitch perfect, every lick a perfect explanation of intention and every moment an unmissable one. 

"Let's pretend tonight is our last night together" Manson says early on after bemoaning touring costs and promising they never want the fans to have bear that cost, before she then goes to shepherd her band to something unforgettable that reaches a ferocious bliss. 

If it's their last time here, Garbage's single New Zealand date truly was special, a reminder of a band still overdelivering years after they even began and one that shows time does nothing to quell the absolute revolution they have nurtured within themselves for decades and within their devotees.