“God is real — I’m not kidding, God is actually real,” Cameron Winter proclaims with fervent conviction at the crescendo of ‘$0’, the debut single from his solo album, Heavy Metal. This declaration, delivered within the hallowed walls of the Holy Trinity Cathedral, shifts dramatically from a profound revelation to a raw, emotional breakdown. Winter’s voice, initially a powerful bellow, transforms into a quivering baritone, abandoning all semblance of rhyme and reason as a subdued piano ballad morphs into something profoundly strange, uninhibled, and cathartic.
While declarations of faith are expected in a cathedral, Winter’s rendition is anything but conventional. The Holy Trinity Cathedral, the esteemed “mother church” of Auckland’s Anglican Archdiocese, provides a remarkably auspicious setting for the Geese frontman’s ambitious solo venture. Winter has a well-documented penchant for performing in sacred spaces across the globe, and the cathedral’s soaring neo-Gothic arches, magnificent stained-glass windows, and lofty timber ceilings create an atmosphere that is both reverent and deeply affecting, managing to be atmospheric without feeling pretentious and sacred without being stuffy.
The promise of a spiritual experience, curated by Cameron Winter himself, has drawn an eclectic assembly of devoted fans, or “pilgrims,” from as far afield as Sydney, California, and Singapore. This pilgrimage, fuelled by the recent acclaim of Geese’s fourth album, Getting Killed, has driven ticket resale prices to astronomical heights. Those who couldn’t secure a spot are seen circling the cathedral’s periphery, a restless loop of hope for a miraculous opening.
The palpable excitement within the queue is undeniable. When a lone teenager finally manages to snag a ticket, the crowd erupts in a wave of cheers and whoops. This genuine elation is amplified forty minutes later when Winter himself graces the stage, a seemingly unassuming figure in a grandfather shirt, energy drink in hand. The applause that greets him is nothing short of rapturous.
This moment marks one of the rare instances where the 23-year-old New Yorker directly acknowledges his audience. In stark contrast to his expressive and often wryly unserious performances with Geese, Winter’s solo act at Holy Trinity is characterised by a profound introspection. For over an hour, his piano is deliberately positioned facing away from the audience, a choice that, while potentially alienating to some, effectively eliminates distractions and compels listeners to hang on every word of the unreleased opener, ‘It All Fell In The River’.
This minimalist approach feels incredibly refreshing and remarkably respectful. While audience participation can invigorate a pop concert, it’s almost inconceivable to imagine Winter engaging in the sort of boisterous call-and-response one might find in a secular venue, especially within the solemnity of a house of worship.
The venue enforces a strict no-alcohol policy, a rule that even extends to communion wine. Despite Winter’s own personal oscillation between agnosticism and moments of genuine belief, there’s an undeniable, almost palpable sense that a higher power might indeed be observing the proceedings. The audience seems to internalise this atmosphere, transitioning from boisterous singalongs to a state of silent, devoted attention.
A Masterclass in Musical Reinterpretation
Even if the setting were less sacred, singing along would be a challenge. Winter’s live renditions of tracks from Heavy Metal, such as ‘Love Takes Miles’ and ‘Drinking Age’, are less familiar covers and more virtuosic improvisations. His live vocal performance is notably richer and far more versatile than what is captured on the album recordings, showcasing a depth and range that surprises even dedicated fans.
These live versions often bear little resemblance to their studio counterparts, and in many instances, the alterations are for the better. Similarly, Winter’s authentic voice is a far cry from the exaggerated impressions that fans have attempted online, often likening him to a vocal performance reminiscent of Hugh Jackman.
Cultivating a Mythos, With a Touch of Whimsy
While the artist, self-styled as the “$0 man,” is undoubtedly cultivating his own unique mystique, the performance is far from devoid of humour. Even as he embodies the enigmatic, aloof genius persona, reminiscent of figures like Bob Dylan, Winter takes a deliberate pause during ‘The Rolling Stones’ to take a swig from his energy drink. Later, he engages in more unconventional antics, including banging his head against the piano, executing fanciful musical scales, and introducing a new song, ‘Ben’, which, in its entirety, consists of the repeated utterance of the word “Ben.”
These moments of playful absurdity evoke comparisons to Mr. Bean’s memorable performance at the 2012 Olympic Opening Ceremony. Unsurprisingly, such whimsical moments stem from a lyricist who can seamlessly blend musings on conga lines of chickens and ukulele beatings with profound existential questions about the existence of God. These moments are endearingly goofy, never contemptuous, and it’s highly unlikely any clergyman would be reprimanded for permitting such an imaginative performance.
A Setlist That Leaves You Wanting More
If there’s any point of contention, it lies with the setlist itself, which Winter appears to take with him as he departs. A significant portion of Heavy Metal is omitted, including the highly anticipated fan favourite, ‘Nausicaä (Love Will Be Revealed)’. The ominous encore, ‘Sandbag’, might have been more effectively placed within the main body of the set.
The performance concludes rather abruptly with a mumbled “thank you,” a stark contrast to the profound emotional intensity built throughout the preceding songs. Winter possesses an extraordinary ability to evoke both laughter and tears with a single musical phrase, making this understated ending a peculiar choice.
A Historic Performance
Despite any minor quibbles, this was undoubtedly the kind of show that becomes a cherished anecdote for future generations. As the congregation disperses, many are seen wiping away tears, drawing comparisons between Winter’s songwriting prowess and that of the legendary Leonard Cohen, and confidently declaring they have just witnessed a piece of history. In response to a somewhat dismissive comment about the final stretch being “boring,” one attendee succinctly captures the prevailing sentiment: “The kid’s got it. I don’t know what it is, but he’s got it.”
Regardless of any dissenting opinions, Cameron Winter possesses a rare talent that has the potential to convert even the most skeptical into a believer.
