Latest news with #Powderfinger
Scoop
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- Scoop
Ocean Alley Return To Aotearoa This Summer Playing Auckland's Spark Arena
Press Release – Ocean Alley Globally renowned Australian rockers Ocean Alley are stoked to announce their return to Aotearoa for one almighty headline show this summer, hitting Auckland's Spark Arena on Friday 27 February 2026, in celebration of their highly anticipated fifth studio album, Love Balloon, out Friday 19 September. Tickets go on sale Tuesday 24 June at 12pm NZST via Ticketmaster. This marks Ocean Alley's first New Zealand headline show since 2023, and the first chance for Kiwi fans to catch the beloved six-piece live on local soil as they unveil their boldest, most ambitious album yet. Slated for global release on September 19, Love Balloon sees the band embracing a fresh sonic direction – joyful, playful and full of heart. Led by the recently released title track which offers a blissful glimpse into the band's creative direction on the upcoming album. Anchored by an irresistible groove and a shimmering Nile Rodgers-inspired guitar riff, the track threads an unexpected touch of disco flair along its pulsating bassline, marking playful new territory for Ocean Alley. It feels effortlessly spontaneous, echoing the carefree energy of previous singles 'Tangerine' and 'Left Of The Dealer'. Produced by legendary producer Nick DiDia (Bruce Springsteen, Powderfinger, Rage Against The Machine), the band embraced a stripped-back, more emotionally resonant approach across the 10 tracks of Love Balloon, taking listeners on a journey through life and love in all its complexity, underscored by moments of light, vulnerability and connection. Joining Ocean Alley at Spark Arena are Byron Bay legends Skegss, delivering their sun-drenched, beer-soaked garage punk mayhem, and rising Sydney soul prince DON WEST, whose velvet vocals and undeniable swagger channel the golden era of Motown with a fresh, modern twist. Together, they complete a stacked lineup that's set to be the highlight of the summer tour calendar. With over 1 billion streams to their name, twelve Gold or Platinum singles in New Zealand alone, and a reputation for magnetic live shows, Ocean Alley are one of Australia's most influential and successful musical exports. Their Spark Arena return comes hot on the heels of a massive international run throughout 2025, including festival appearances at Lollapalooza, Sziget and Austin City Limits, alongside shows at LA's Hollywood Palladium and Brooklyn Paramount in New York. The group will make their first trip to Latin America with shows in Mexico, Brasil and Chile, before taking on their largest headline show to date, anywhere in the world – at London's iconic 10,000 capacity Alexandra Palace in September. This show marks a bold new chapter for Ocean Alley – a chance to see a band at the height of their powers, bringing their most vibrant and confident work to the biggest stages of their career.
The Guardian
22-02-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
The moment I knew: I thought I was too cool for love. My rock idol knew better
On 10 January 2000 I started my first job in journalism at the Brisbane News. I was 20 years old, a starry-eyed rube from suburban Bracken Ridge who didn't even know what a flat white was. On my first day my editor had the rest of the journos join us at a cafe to welcome me to the team. That's when I met Fiona. Fi. She'd been out on assignment and arrived late; the only seat left was right next to me. She was so natural and warm in the way she chatted with me. What was just polite small talk felt to me like an enormous show of generosity; like a light shining on me. She also reminded me of my childhood screen crush Toni Pearen. I was instantly taken with her. Fi was a reporter but she also subedited a lot of articles. For months she corrected my dodgy apostrophes. Four months in and she'd had enough. After work one evening, when everyone else had left, she quietly ran through the rules of apostrophes with me – to save her own sanity and my dignity. What a woman, I thought. Fi was a few years older than me; she'd lived and worked in the UK as a journalist. This was the height of sophistication to me. I was fascinated and enamoured with her. But I didn't think she'd ever entertain the idea of dating a bloke like me; I was just a kid trying not to blow his big break with errant grammar and misguided affections. Then spring rolled around, the jacarandas were out and Brisbane was awash in purple. Local band Powderfinger were just about to bring out one of the greatest albums of all time, Odyssey Number Five. As a perk of my shitkicking job I was invited to the industry launch. There was only one person I knew who was a bigger Finger fan than me. At the venue on the night of the gig Fi and I ended up on a back landing smoking Peter Stuyvesants and drinking beers, having the kind of conversation twentysomethings do. I was 21 by then and trying to channel Ethan Hawke from Before Sunrise. When Fi began riffing on how she was over dating, over love, I doubled down on it, agreeing with everything she said. Who needs romantic love? We were serious journalists! John Pilger didn't give a shit about love; we're hard-boiled, we've got Steinbeck and Down and Out in Paris and London and Kurt Cobain and travel; we're no cream puffs – we don't need anything as lame as love! But in my head I thought: holy shit, I do actually love this girl. I wish I could just tell her right now how amazing I think she is, how I think we should be together, but I didn't have the guts. Then our beers ran out. I walked back to the bar to get us some more and every beautiful person in Brisbane was in there, swooning around Powderfinger's lead singer, the great Bernard Fanning. There he was, like a light in the darkness. And there I was, the Elvis Costello to his Jim Morrison, trying to convince myself that I was too cool for love. Who was I kidding? I ripped a Powderfinger poster off the wall and squeezed through the crowds feting Bernard and interrupted his conversation. I apologised, congratulated him on the album and then rambled: 'There's this girl out on the landing, man, and she loves you even more than I do. I really like her, right, and I figured if you sign this, then her love for you might bounce back and get reflected back on to me somehow.' Impressed and bemused, Bernard took the poster from my hands and scribbled on it. He rolled it back up and told me to take it to her and not to look at it. Back outside, Fi unfurled the poster as I looked on. She read aloud: 'Fiona, this boy really likes you, love Bernard.' Time stood still. I could have gone and made a sandwich, come back and still been waiting for her reaction. It was pure vulnerability, the knife's edge. I felt as though I would either have to move to Sydney or we'll be together for ever. But that was it. That was the moment my life cracked wide open and love poured in. This beautiful rock god had swung open the door to the truth I was too scared to admit: love is the coolest thing there is. We shared a cab home at the end of the night without acknowledging this big elephant in the room – the poster and what Bernard wrote – but I think we both knew this could be the start of something big. It was only a few days after, on the night of Fi's birthday, that I told her outright that I loved her and she said it back. Twenty-four years later, I still think about what might have happened if I had kept wallowing in self-doubt and tried to stay too cool for the truth of love. And it terrifies me because the joy that came after that moment – it sends a chill through my bones to imagine my life without it. An adaptation of Trent Dalton's book Love Stories is being staged by the Merrigong Theatre Company in Wollongong, New South Wales, from 28 February to 8 March
