Borderline at The Tuning Fork: Heartfelt, Hopeful & Electrifying

Auckland streams with rain on the Friday of indie-pop band Borderline’s show in a national tour of their new EP Chrysalis. Perpendicular queues of fans frame The Tuning Fork, early and unfazed by the mercurial weather. The venue fills rapidly, the cold diffused with suspense. 

 The night opens with solo artist Liberty, a Hawkes Bay artist singing with confidence and presence. She is personable with the crowd, lightly self-effacing yet inherently comfortable beneath stage lights. Liberty slips seamlessly between sounds, from the soft, evocative melody of Snap Out of It, a glimpse of coming-of-age malaise and isolation, to the rousing ballads of Are We Dead and Why the Hell Am I, blurring existentialism and feminism.

Inverting the night’s sound, second opener Lucy Gray fills the room with hazy sonics and narrative lyricism. Beautifully supported by other NZ artists Dean Rodrigues on the drums, and Flynn Adamson on guitar, Gray captivates the crowd. Her sound is soaring yet introspective. On Polar Orbit and her newly released single Trying So Hard, Gray mixes soft rock with indie nostalgia. Digressing into powerful covers, the audience sings with her. Gracefully, Gray steers us through hymnal intros and sweeping melodies with verve. 

As 10pm closes in, The Tuning Fork teems with fans and anticipation. Borderline’s lead guitarist Matthew McFadden later enthuses that they “couldn’t see the floor”, fulfilling the band’s dream to sell out this staple venue. Singing from a mixture of their new EP Chrysalis, unreleased work, and deep cuts, Borderline doesn't disappoint. 

Friends since childhood and adolescence, Ben Glanfield, Matthew McFadden, Jackson Boswell and Max Harries share a coming of age that is personal as well as musical. Each song is different yet underpinned by an increasingly cohesive sound, testament to a chemistry that exceeds the stage. 

The room heaves on Heartbeat, an electrifying ballad which everyone sings back. In the thundering melodrama of When It's Raining, the band tests the volume in a howl of anguish for unrequited feelings. A dichotomy of nostalgia and adrenaline, Borderline meshes variations of indie introspection and rock suggestive of disco. In the nostalgic portrait of New Romance, lead vocalist Ben Glanfield croons softly, hopeful amid crisp acoustics. A band with the emotional lungs for what’s heartfelt or melancholic, the room is left remembering first kisses and falling in love. 

Talking to them afterwards, Borderline’s members are warm and personable, perfectly reflecting their effervescent stage personalities. They allude to a constant process of creating and are effusive about their many fans. It’s close to midnight and yet their energy remains indefatigable. 

To watch a Borderline show isn’t to watch a detached performance. It’s to see a group of friends bound by a love for what they do, and realising it with flair. One can’t help but smile back at such a love story.

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