Fly My Pretties are back, with sizzling new talent, new songs, and the same old ethos of collaborative musical magic. Their loyal Pōneke fans were treated to three concerts in the Great Hall of the Dominion Museum Building at Massey University as part of the Wellington Jazz Festival. Even more excitingly for us, these concerts were the recording sessions for Fly My Pretties’ upcoming album Elemental and overflowed with sweet new material.

Elemental is Fly My Pretties’ eighth album and feels resonant with their platinum debut Fly My Pretties Live at Bats. The much-beloved Aotearoa musical collaboration was founded in Wellington in 2004 by Mikee Tucker and The Black Seeds frontman Barnaby Weir, and has championed a plethora of Kiwi musicians over its 20-year history. This latest incarnation features 11 established and emerging Kiwi artists, including the velvet-voiced and grounding presence Aja, firecracker pop sensation Riiki Reid, and the indomitable Taylah.

The featured artists all have independent careers, but came together to write songs for Elemental. The setlist managed to strike a balance between stylistically eclectic and thematically cohesive. This sense of cohesion was enhanced by killer coordinated but individualised outfits in the first set, and fantastic supporting visuals on an enormous screen by Mike Bridgman and Jamie Robertson. Our appetites have been well and truly whetted for the release of the Elemental album and next year’s tour.

But the critical ingredient that made this night one of the best gigs I’ve ever attended was the incredible vibes and sense of whanaungatanga. Barnaby Weir seems to have a talent for that elusive and vital skill of community building. It came through in the way the artists interacted on stage, the time taken to acknowledge the venue and recording equipment provided by Massey University, and the way we were invited to feel part of the album’s production.  

Walking through the doors of Circa Two having never met the famous Cythia Fortitude or Gertrude Rallentando before, I had no idea what to expect from Cynthia & Gertie Ride Again!. Little did I know, I was in for a rollicking good time.

The story follows Cynthia (Helen Moulder) as she prepares for her new opera The Marvellous Sandflies of Aotearoa. The show honours the late Rose Beauchamp, who played the other half of the dynamic duo. Even though Gertie isn’t physically there, her presence is felt throughout.

As Cythia rides into the theatre, it’s clear this is going to be a fun time. Her dotty, eccentric charm does not disappoint. With her wit and many failed attempts to navigate the modern world, she has the audience in stitches from start to finish.

The show is a real-life theatrical opera lesson with a comedic twist. Cynthia humorously educates us and even ropes us into becoming part of the performance, teaching us proper vocal technique and the correct pronunciation of ‘recitative’.

Audience participation is instrumental in this production. As members of the Island Bay Opera Guild, we take on memorable characters such as northern locals, ‘backing packers’, and even eunuch priests. The interaction is hysterical, and Moulder’s way with the audience makes the whole spectacle all the more entertaining.

I must also commend the lighting design. Deb McGuire and Gabriella Eaton’s work aligns perfectly with Cynthia’s very specific ideas and consistently sets the right mood, evoking the perfect emotions in every circumstance.

I never thought I’d find myself enjoying a performance about the plight of sandflies, but here we are. By the end, I’m surprisingly sympathetic to the often-swatted insect.

This is the most I’ve laughed all year. So, whizz down to Circa Theatre while you can and jump aboard the wild ride. You might just leave with newfound respect for Austrosimulium ungulatum. The Island Bay Opera Guild is waiting for you…

Multi-GRAMMY®-winning bassist, composer, arranger, and producer Marcus Miller has been called one of the most influential artists of our era. At the top of his game for over 40 years, he is consistently recognised as one of the greatest electric bassists of all time. Renowned for his legendary technique and feel in his fusion of jazz, funk, groove, and soul, he is also one of the most recorded artists in modern music. It was fitting then that he, as the top billing, opened this year’s Wellington Jazz Festival.

The full Opera House audience was fortunate to experience not just one, but five exceptionally talented musicians on stage. Miller may have been the star of the show with his sublime, at times simply breathtaking thumb-slapping skills up and down the guitar neck, but he also constantly praised his fellow musicians and introduced them at least three times throughout the night! 

From the funky opening track Panther, featuring soaring keyboards from Xavier Gordon and dynamically syncopated, rhythmic drumming from Anwar Marshall, we knew we were in for something special. With Miller’s funky bass and Donald Hayes’ dazzling, soaring notes on saxophone, Red Baron had the crowd mesmerised, clapping and cheering after every solo.  

Maputo was a dedication to saxophone great David Sanborn, who passed earlier this year – one of a multitude of artists Miller has collaborated with throughout his career. Miller is probably best known for his work (including three albums) with Miles Davis during the 1980s – Tutu and Mr Pastorius, tracks from which featured the expressively clean tones of Russell Gunn on trumpet. 

Miller told of his visit to an island off the coast of Senegal, which served as an outpost to slave trading, after which he wrote the poignant and desperately sad Gorée (Go-ray). With Miller playing a bass clarinet under soft deep-blue lighting, this slow melancholic ballad almost moved me to tears. 

A second standing ovation, after the encore Come Together, was no less than this spectacular band deserved. Superlative.

Before We Slip Beneath the Sea is a new immersive theatre experience from award-winning local playwright Cassandra Tse. As well as providing a topical and thought-provoking discussion of climate change responses, it’s helping fulfil her PhD requirements.

Set in the hyper-real environment of a village hall, with Aro Valley Community Centre doubling as St Rita’s Hall on the fictional island of Eglantyne, this cleverly structured play allows for the audience to participate as much or as little as they wish. Get fully involved in the narrative by chatting with cast members and eavesdropping on their conversations or sit in a plastic chair with a bikkie and a bottle of (alcohol-free) beer to take in the regular scripted segments that reiterate the key plot and relationship details you might have missed.

The seven featured island-dwellers, nicknamed ‘Eggies’, are a cross-section of Kiwis whose island lifestyle has been threatened by rising tides. The City Council has ordered the permanent evacuation of the island rather than try to mitigate the effects of climate change. It’s their last official night on Eglantyne and some island-dwellers have embraced the need to move on, while others want to stay in defiance of the order and lobby for sea defences that will allow them to live there another decade or two. It’s a straightforward but rewarding narrative that the ensemble cast – Charlie Potter, Hannah McKenzie Doornebosch, Ralph Johnson, Megan Connolly, Billie Deganutti, Helen Jones, and Craig Geenty – deliver in a natural and authentic way under the guidance of Tse’s unfussy direction.

Working in a non-traditional theatrical context means the tech is determined by what’s available. Lucas Neal’s production design leans into the community hall vibe using the in-place lighting, surreptitiously adding sound gear in the guise of a karaoke machine, and rearranging the tables and chairs as the plot advances.

Joining the Eggies in their fight to preserve their home is all the more impactful for tearing down the fourth wall and absorbing the audience into their emotive story. Whose side are you on?

On a tight deadline, siblings Mary (Hannah Kelly), Jason (Simon Leary), and Helena (Stella Reid) must pack up their father’s home – where Jason has been living with his partner Sam (Jthan Morgan) – as they prepare to move the once-celebrated pianist into a dementia care facility. Gus Lochburn’s (Peter Hambleton) mind lives at a different point in time than his body – one where his wife Margaret (Kali Kopae) is still alive. One thing can always pull him back to the present: music.

We watch Gus’ memories unfold as he plays piano, sings, and dances with his wife in flashbacks that are so seamlessly integrated, it is hard to tell where the past ends and the present begins. This mirrors what is happening in Gus’ mind. In his lucid moments when reality hits, and the Lochburns employs some of the most poignant dramatic irony I’ve seen at the theatre. The mother leaves the stage, and the father cannot understand where his wife has gone. While his children simply read this as a symptom of a worsening condition, the audience experiences a knowing, collective heartbreak. It is in these moments that I glimpse more than a few hankies being whipped out of pockets in my peripheral vision. Our emotional response is testament not only to such a lyrical script, but to Hambleton’s gut-wrenching, brilliant performance.

Where and the Lochburns also excels is in its exploration of family dynamics. The characters are so carefully crafted, the exceptional cast so connected with each other and their stories, that I feel I know each sibling well. Sam, too – and it would be remiss of me not to mention Morgan’s showstopping line of the evening about adoption. A well-deserved roar of laughter there!  

With gifted music director Hayden Taylor at the helm, Kopae’s singing is a standout and earns rapturous applause, especially when she’s given a mic. On that note, Meg Rollandi’s detailed production design is stunning but sees the stage extend far back into a cavernous space where dialogue is muffled at times. I hope the acoustics can be improved because I don’t want anyone to miss any of and the Lochburns – a play spun with threads of music, memory, and pure gold.

Having recently read Judy Bailey’s Evolving about ageing, reading Age Less: The new science of slower and healthier ageing, it felt like a natural progression to explore the science behind ageing less.

Age Less explains why we age and the scientific theories of ageing. I hadn’t realised there was so much research into why we age.

Not only does author Greg Macpherson introduce a series of ageing experts, but the reader can also scan a QR code to hear an interview with each of the experts from around the world. Their theories transverse biology, genetics, DNA, hyperbaric medicine, immunology, and biophysics to name just a few. There’s a lot to sink your teeth into here and for the scientifically inclined, it’s likely a treasure trove. Macpherson also explores the idea of ageing as a disease.

I found I enjoyed chapter five the most, The Science of Ageing. Macpherson describes how this chapter “gets into the nuts and bolts about what we know about the ageing process.” Here he talks about the ‘hallmarks of ageing’, a framework developed by experts in 2013 which “sought to identify and categorise the fundamental molecular and cellular changes that cause ageing”.

To give you an idea of what the hallmarks delve into, number one is genomic instability and number two is telomere attrition. I won’t even begin to try and explain these but think DNA and how it is effectively a blueprint for all our cells as a very rudimentary start.

Macpherson says, “Our external environment and the biological processes and changes that happen in our bodies influence how we age at a cellular and molecular level.” These, he notes, can be different for everyone, which can explain why we all appear to age differently.

“Chronological ageing is straightforward and absolute… yet biological ageing is not as predictable or uniform”, the author says.

Age Less provides a wealth of information about how we age. The scientific journey Macpherson takes you on with a team of experts at hand is informative, and though dense in parts, is a well-balanced look at what we can do to increase longevity.

Mothers and memoirs don’t go together, notes our author at the outset – heaven forbid mothers should start editing! That said, this is a tale dedicated to mothers (whaea) and other wāhine in a life packed with drama, reflection, and wry humour.

Whaea Blue has already been described in superlatives and I’ve got some too. I’m offering some specifics, though, as examples of Marshall’s skills as a writer. For a start, the chapter headings – all 37 of them – are enticingly detailed. Who could resist Chicken Feet, Dolphin Princess, and Who are you killing?

The power of writing in the present tense is admirably demonstrated. Given that the narrative line moves back and forth, alternating present and past adds to its effectiveness. Then there are the disarming self-disclosures in comments peppered throughout. Marshall refers to “the silly putty of my imagination” and to being “a determined little adult”.

Grandfather Jim gets the attention he deserves as he lies slowly dying in a rest home in Dunedin. His funeral is held inside the Mormon chapel he built with Māori in the sixties. That’s when Ans Westra’s Maori was published. Marshall paints a sympathetic portrait of Westra and the photographer’s Eurocentric gaze. Her comment that “Ans Westra caught Māori men in the act of being good” juxtaposes the criticism of the sometimes-controversial figure.

It’s maybe arguable that the author has tried to pack too much into over 300 pages. Roving through being the child of an unwed Mormon Pākehā mother, encountering her Māori father (formerly “a construct out of cultural cliches”), a series of lovers, a chilling encounter with magic mushrooms, a clash with a supervisor on cultural matters – and I’m only halfway through!

The second half of Whaea Blue is coloured by our writer’s ongoing struggle with mental health and the sometimes-psychotic experiences that accompany it. This is salutary stuff. Much of Whaea Blue is, but it’s well and truly balanced by a cascading resilience, a growing sense of identity, and an extraordinary honesty.

If you have ever sung a hymn in your life, there is a good chance you have Shirley Erena Murray to thank for it. Growing up in Invercargill, she would go on to make a major impact on hymns sung in New Zealand.

Both Murray and her husband John were staunch believers in equality and fairness all their lives, and no hymn conveys these sentiments so eloquently as the one titled For Everyone Born, A Place at The Table. Written by Shirley in 1998, it beautifully sums up her beliefs and character with its lyrics conveying her ideas of how we should treat each other. While now 26 years old, its message is just as relevant as it was when first written.

Eventually she helped publish three very important titles – Alleluia Aotearoa, Carol Our Christmas, and A New Zealand Hymn Book – each distinctly Kiwi and representing all our peoples: Māori, Pasifika, and European. In addition, she later wrote her own books, further making her mark.

What I love the most about Peace Is Her Song is learning about how Murray achieved her goals while being a devoted wife to John and mother to her three boys Alistair, David, and Rob. As well as her own work, she helped write and compile several books showcasing New Zealand’s best hymns.

Anne Manchester’s lyrical Peace Is Her Song is further proof of what I have always said about biographies: that they not only entertain but teach us that no matter how hard we think we have it, others have overcome similar or worse problems. I have always marvelled at how we can pick up a book, gain access to someone’s life and experiences, and be able to benefit from their wisdom.

If you see Peace is Her Song at your local bookshop, I highly recommend picking it up. Even if you are not into poetry, this is well worth it just to read Shirley’s story and marvel at the life she led.

Want a coffee table book that’s also a great conversation starter? I recommend They Said What?! – a collection of iconic Kiwi quotes from the last 12 years. Voted for by New Zealanders, these represent a broad spectrum of comments, exclamations, excuses, explanations, and gaffes from politicians, sportspeople, comedians, musicians, activists, and broadcasters.

It’s tempting to quote the best ones, so instead I’ll provide clues. What were the memorable words said by three guys who rescued trapped citizens during Cyclone Gabrielle? And who were the guys? Self-deprecation can enhance action.

From the politicians: Who said what about lamingtons? Who was encouraged to raise an eyebrow in defeat? Who did a little dance at certain news and why? What was the one about the benefit? And way back in 2014, who said he was sorry for being a man?

From politics to magic powers: The Christchurch Wizard makes a bold statement that’s been borne out by spells that actually worked; a cannabis user has hopes about a tinny house; Taika Waititi has strong opinions about New Zealand; a musician compares John Clarke to Nureyev; and comedian Te Radar is worried about the economy.

Editor Kavan and her colleagues made rigorous decisions about the winning quotes for each year based on brevity, originality, and impact. Ultimately, the voting public were the deciders. And of all the gems in this collection, one stands out for me. Not made by a politician, sportsman, writer, or public figure of any kind, a 2015 winning quote takes the cake for its extraordinary courage. A schoolboy at Christchurch Boys’ High, on a razor’s edge between life and death, nevertheless delivers a heart-stopping message at the senior prizegiving ceremony. “None of us get out of life alive. So be gallant, be great, be gracious, and be grateful for the opportunities you have.” He goes on to survive the cancer that should have killed him. I wonder what The Christchurch Wizard would have to say about that!

I would like to think these 100+ quotes represent and express what’s best and finest and funniest about us New Zealanders.