Prince would play as many as seven encores. Photo / Getty Images
Prince would play as many as seven encores. Photo / Getty Images
Opinion by Jenni Mortimer
Jenni Mortimer, Lifestyle and Travel Editor (audience) for New Zealand's Herald, is passionate about telling stories and providing a place to escape for kiwis in amongst the hard news.
No, it’s not sloppy crowds, late performers or rain at virtually every Auckland gig past January.
I can even get around the All Blacks merch on virtually every international artist hoping to make that oh so important connection with the local audience.
Taylor Swift wears an All Black rugby jersey as she performs at Vector Arena in 2012. Photo / Getty Images
But there’s one thing that pains me most, and I think it’s about time we all admitted that modern encores are pretty cringe.
If you’re a music lover or someone who regularly attends shows, you’ll know an encore isn’t unique or spontaneous, and no rarer than a Mexican wave at a T20 game.
So why do artists still insist on doing them?
Encores have long been rooted in performance history, dating back to at least the 18th century, when recorded music didn’t exist. The only way to get more from your favourite performer was to beg for a repeat of a song you’d later hum as you skipped home in your best petticoat. The encore was a 1700s version of the repeat button on Apple Music.
From there, rock’n’roll in particular became synonymous with the encore, and eventually major artists, like Elvis, began to revolt against the tradition, with his promoter Horace Hogan famously having to declare to hysterical fans, “Elvis has left the building”.
And those who did play an encore would do so spontaneously - Prince, for example, would play as many as seven encores, or whatever he felt like that night. No lighting cues, no confetti cannons timed, no pre-determined song list.
During a show at Auckland’s Western Springs Stadium in 1979, Bob Marley and The Wailers left the stage for a lengthy break before returning with a legendary encore that lasted more than an hour.
The difference between these performances and today’s version of the encore? Authenticity.
In 2025, no matter how the night goes, a pre-planned encore is presented to fans on a silver platter.
We, as an audience, are participating in a little piece of well-scripted theatre, and I cringe watching it.
The fans know the show isn’t over, but their role is to pretend they think it is. The band knows they aren’t done performing, but their role is to leave and pretend they are. Then it’s the crowd’s turn again, and they pretend that the volume of their cheering will determine if the artist returns. Then, finally, the artist must reward them for their efforts in the charade and walk back out to the most iconic notes of their most iconic song. Only then is the ruse complete.
Your mate returns from the bathroom just in time, knowing they had a 2-minute break to pee before the encore and a long wait for an Uber home. Rock’n’roll baby.
It’s like your partner proposing with a ring you bought and a script you wrote; while you ultimately get what you want, you’ve lost the element of surprise.
And I get it, a lot of people work really hard to make these major concerts come to life, and when you’re dealing with a well-oiled machine, finding spontaneity is hard.
But encores were originally meant to be the most spontaneous element of a concert, but in 2025 they show us more than any other part of a concert, that what we are seeing is anything but.
Roadies shuffle fresh parts of the set on, a new guitar is placed on stage, confetti is swept, and of course, the house lights stay off.
It’s not spontaneous, it’s just trying really hard to seem that way. It’s the opposite of authentic.
When have you, in recent years, seen a major touring artist totally overwhelmed by the spectacle of it all and do something truly real in their encore?
Over my 8 years reviewing concerts, I’ve noticed pleading for the encore becoming less and less, more people dashing to their cars to beat traffic during it, and the “magic” of the encore disappearing.
These days, I watch an encore like watching my son unwrap Christmas presents from Santa. Ultimately, I know what’s coming; it’s a bit of theatre, and my three months of drama school are finally paying off.
The encore has had a good run, but it’s now more blatant than your mum and Santa having the same handwriting.
If artists want to do something truly authentic, then give us something fresh. Hold the one we all love to last, thrill the crowd, say goodbye and then just like Elvis, leave the building.
Jenni Mortimer is the New Zealand Herald’s chief lifestyle and entertainment reporter. Jenni started at the Herald in 2017 and has worked as their lifestyle, entertainment and travel editor.
