bReview: Jessica Pratt
at the Bruce Mason Centre, Wednesday 11 June 2025
with support from Tiny Ruins (Duo)
Written by Elle Daji
Photography by Rosa Nevison
I distinctly remember standing in the 95bFM kitchen when Jonny announced that Jessica Pratt was coming to Aotearoa. As an unabashed fangirl I screamed and collapsed on the floor. Jessica Pratt was bringing her ethereal, dreamlike world to the delight of contemporary folk lovers everywhere.
On yet another wintry evening in Tāmaki Makaurau, I made my way to the Bruce Mason Centre, with fellow fangirl Sof, of Thursday Morning Glory Fame. On our journey over the shore we got to talking about who could open for Jessica Pratt, and we really couldn’t think of many other acts other than Tiny Ruins.
Tiny Ruins in the duo form of Hollie Fulbrooke and Cass Basil begin their set as the last stragglers tumble into the theatre. Their voices seem to caress each other as they fall in and out of crisp harmonies. With only a bass and acoustic guitar to accompany them, it’s really lovely to hear how much the bass fills out their sound.
They play a track off their upcoming album called ‘How Will I know What’s Right.’ At times, it almost sounds like they are accompanied by a cello, which I’m still not sure they accomplished this with two guitars.
Hollie mentions that they haven’t played live in a while, due to the birth of her son. But I don’t think the audience can tell as they both command the stage with an easy presence.
(Tiny Ruins opening for Jessica Pratt at the Bruce Mason Centre / Photo: Rosa Nevison)
Before they finish the set with ‘The Crab/ Waterbaby” Hollie notes that we are all very quiet which arouses a hefty laugh from the audience. During the instrumental sections they turn to each other, communicating through an unspoken language only they can understand.
In between acts I run into some friends, one of which has cried three times thus far, and the other who says they “anticipate crying again.” In previous interviews, Pratt has spoken about how the purpose of music generally is to accompany people, alleviating people’s pain and helping them feel less alone. I am reminded of how powerful and emotive Jessica Pratt’s music is. Her more esoteric lyrics are able to connect on a highly individual and personal level with the audience, coaxing a visceral response.
Pratt walks alone on stage under red lights and sits down, her face obscured in shadow. The only indication that it’s Jessica under the lights is her signature untamed waved hair, and a sharp angular suit. The band follows. The lights never lift throughout the show, almost entirely removing the identity of Pratt and her band. The show is not about her, but instead the music. A gesture of humility, a theme which continues throughout the show as she simply says ‘thank you’ at the end of each round of applause.
She opens with ‘World on a String.’ The audience is still, not wanting to waste a single sound that echoes from the stage, be it the shuffle of a seat, tuning of guitars or Pratt’s first breath in before starting the next song. It may be contradictory but It is a joy to enter the music of Pratt’s rather quiet world.
It is at this point Pratt’s search for perfectionism comes clear. She thanks the audience at the end of every song. And there is a clear focus of her and the band. They all seem to communicate without speaking or looking at each other. Seamlessly manoeuvring between tracks.
During ‘Get your head out’ the percussionist is busy playing an assortment of odd looking percussion. Which I don’t think I’ve ever fully heard whilst listening to through headphones, but now cannot unhear. The experience of a live Jessica Pratt show is so close to listening to an album. Her band is so clean, there is not one moment out of place. The silent audience is not due to lack of enthusiasm, but astonishment.
There is space between each song. The silence is a comfortable one. Like two best friends who are able to dwell in the stillness. So confident in their friendship that times of silence only strengthen their connection. I am so mesmerised. It’s as though the audience is watching ‘Jessica Pratt the Movie’ which is filled with the diegetic noise of music making.
It seems to me that Pratt has a sense of trust in her audience. That we are all here to listen to her play. The music sings for itself. Her energy is preserved to create the best listening experience possible. The band is sat. Carefully and accurately returning between songs. And it all pays off. Coming out of the show, the most common comment I got was how eerily similar she sounds to the recordings.
The ends of lines in ‘By Hook or by Crook’ often dwindle into Pratt’s wordless vocals, forming another instrument in the band. Conversing with the saxophone which cuts cleanly through the guitar line.
(Jessica Pratt at the Bruce Mason Centre / Photo: Rosa Nevison)
Pratt’s music provides space for the listener to contemplate. Time to sit with the lyrics, draw connections with their own lives and continue on with their lives in a changed way. These thoughts cross my mind during ‘As the World Turns,’ as Pratt sings the final lines “I need soul to keep the whistle blown/ and it’s so long before my future’s come/ drawn in sand and on, on”
The last three songs are when I begin to cry. ‘Back, Baby,’ ‘The Last Year’ followed by ‘Life Is.’ As the final chords finish reverberating throughout the theatre, as peacefully as she entered the stage, Jessica Pratt walks off. In previous interviews Jessica has talked about her love for brevity but it’s all over too soon. Sof turns to me and says “That Can’t Be It.”
As the centre thuds with the urging of an encore, Jessica returns for ‘On Your Own Love Again’ and ‘Fare Thee Well.’ A very fitting two final songs. Jessica mentions that this is the final stop of her tour. Meaning that she can meet us at the merch stand because she doesn’t have to worry about her voice. Always the perfectionist. I have to sit for a moment in the bewilderment that I could meet Jessica.
As she walks off stage for the final time, she raises her wine glass to the audience. A gesture which seems to worldlessly echo the humble performance we had just witnessed.
Sof and I gather around the merch table with the crowd of bewildered fans, all with identical looks of awe in their eyes. We scrambled, trying to think of things to say so we didn’t sound like bumbling morons, still not sure if it worked.
After approaching the merch table and talking about how brilliant the show was, I mention to Jessica Pratt that I’m writing the review and she jokes that I will rip her to shreds. Rather shocking words to hear from the mouth of one of my favourite musicians. Little does she know that her voice has spent multiple hours comforting me, mostly on my bedroom floor.
Since this is the last stop of the tour, I ask if she has any reflections on the experience. She says succinctly that it was very sweet. Then expanding by expressing the love for her band and crew, lovingly stating that her “chosen family” are all such kind people. Finally stating how beautiful it has been travelling through New Zealand, and that she’ll miss the “twisted trees” back in Buffalo.
Like the twenty-year-old teenagers we are, we then ask if she’ll sign our diaries, and take a photo which will never see the light of day. We then excitedly run and click our heels outside the Bruce Mason Centre, thrilled about the most glorious three-minute interaction of my life.
On our drive home, Sof turns to me and says, "I'm so glad we got to meet her together,” as we listened to “Mother Big River.” Jessica Pratt is a musician that not only accompanies your life, but becomes intrinsically connected to it. She makes music that bolsters the connections between people and the experience of hearing her live creates a blissful vignette within the lives of her audience.
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