There was a different kind of energy in Auckland on Saturday night. Jessie Murph was wrapping her world tour, the final stop, and even before she came on, it felt like the whole room knew this night was the start of something bigger.
The venue was packed with fans from all walks of life. There were girls in cowboy boots, couples sipping from plastic cups, and, a bit surprisingly, a few kids fast asleep on their parents’ shoulders at the back. Surprising mostly because so much of Jessie’s music covers heavy, adult topics: addiction, heartbreak, abuse, sex, survival. But somehow, it still made sense. Jessie’s music doesn’t exclude anyone, it just tells the truth.
The second she walked on stage, the screams were instant. No slow build. No easing in. Just pure excitement. Dressed like she’d stepped out of a vintage film, shimmering white and silver mini-dress, big brunette hair, Jessie looked every bit the star. But it was when she opened her mouth that the room really felt it. Her vocals were unreal, gritty, controlled, louder than expected from someone barely 5 feet tall. She’s 21, but it’s obvious she’s lived through more than most twice her age.
She opened with ‘Gucci Mane’, ‘1965’, and ‘Touch Me Like a Gangsta’, and the place lit up. The crowd sang everything back at her, word for word. It felt emotional, but not heavy, like a group of people who’d been waiting to let some of this stuff out.
By ‘While You’re At It’, the floor was moving, and by the time she hit ‘I’m Not Here for You’, something shifted. When Jessie sang “I will never let a man make me feel that bad about myself”, girls across the venue screamed it like it was personal. Like they’d lived it. Like they weren’t just singing, they were reclaiming something.
But the moment that hit hardest came later in the set, with ‘The Man Who Came Back’. A raw track about her father’s struggle with addiction, it landed like a gut punch. Jessie didn’t over-explain it, she just sang it, and that was enough. That’s what makes her music special, it’s upfront. It’s not sugar-coated or softened to make it more palatable. It’s messy and vulnerable and honest, and seeing her stand there, owning that kind of pain, felt powerful.
Throughout the set, she came across like someone you’d want to be friends with, the kind who keeps it real, who might roast you gently but still checks in after. There’s softness under all the grit, and she never once felt out of reach.
She took a moment to thank her band in a way that felt completely unscripted. Turning to them mid-show, she said:
“I just want you guys to know that I’m so fucking grateful for you playing with me every night. It means the world to me and I actually do really love you guys. I do.”
Her guitarist Haven Cody called New Zealand his favourite stop of the tour, to massive cheers, before adding, “And getting to play with you every night.” Jessie grinned, “Aww… he doesn’t mean that.” They laughed, swapped a few on-stage memories, and let the crowd in on their little world. Her drummer, Yotam Weiss kept it sweet and sincere:
“I love the ocean. And I enjoy every night sharing music with you guys. I’m so grateful for that, thank you.”
Jessie paused, looked out at the room, and added:
“This is our last show on a long-ass run, so I want to thank everyone on our team for busting their ass. It’s a difficult thing to do every night and not fuck it up.”
She closed with ‘I’m Not Here for You’ and ‘Blue Strips’, her two biggest and most energetic songs, no encore, no dragged-out goodbye. Just a final release of energy, and gratitude. And it felt right. Like the book was closing exactly where it needed to.
People didn’t rush out after. They stood around, letting it land. Because even though it was the end of this tour, it was obvious to everyone in that room that Jessie Murph is only just getting started.
Read our review of her sold-out London Roundhouse show, a completely different energy, but just as unforgettable, here.
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