Ne-Yo Auckland concert a spectacle of slick moves – and a tone-deaf comment

The R&B hitmaker made sure to rock his signature top hat. Photo / Tom Grut
REVIEW
If there’s one thing to expect at a Ne-Yo concert, it’s twerking. Lots of it.
The multi-hyphenate’s sole date at Auckland’s Spark Arena, the last of the Australasian leg of his Champagne & Roses world tour, began with a call to the frenzied crowd: three “single” ladies would be cherry-picked to dance on stage alongside their idol. However, to secure their spot, they’d have to demonstrate their abilities – and some 20 women rose to the challenge.
With attendees instructed to cast their phone lights on their nearest candidates, the crowd suddenly erupted into booty-shaking bedlam. Without so much as a shred of self-doubt, the gorgeous girl seated in front of my partner stood up, turned around, grabbed the back of her seat and began twerking with reckless abandon. My partner didn’t know where to look, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.
We were bearing witness to the Ne-Yo effect: a phenomenon similar to the knickers-throwing Sir Tom Jones inspired in the 1960s. From his leopard print suit (very chic) to his fluttering falsetto and smooth-as-butter dance moves, Ne-Yo’s entire image is built on appealing to the female fan. The crowd, while peppered with obliging boyfriends, was dominated by adoring women – many of whom were willing to risk it all for a chance to share the same air as the R&B icon.
A mainstay of the R&B and pop soundscape for going on two decades, Ne-Yo, real name Shaffer Chimere Smith, is a showman who knows his audience – and what do women want?
Well, a sweaty towel, apparently. But more on that later.
The 44-year-old opened his hour-and-a-half set with the dance-pop banger Closer, a track from 2008′s Year of the Gentleman. Silhouetted against a firework shimmering across the LED screen, the crooner and his signature top hat appeared to feverish cheers with a Tongan flag draped around his shoulders.
Flanked by an incredible troupe of dancers and a live band, Ne-Yo launched into seamless, high-octane choreography that had the exhilarated audience eating from the palm of his hand. Closer set the tone for the night, but at times, it appeared the hitmaker struggled to maintain it.
Early on, it was evident from our seats that the band – all extremely talented in their own right – were overshadowing Ne-Yo’s live vocals, which also had to compete with the backing track. The sound quality was inconsistent throughout, with his dancefloor anthems in particular tending to drown out his singing abilities.
Closer was followed by Because of You, the title track from his second album, and Nobody. It’s then he addresses the audience for the first time, a brief introductory speech that offered the crowd little to no indication he even knew he was in New Zealand.
“We’re gonna laugh a little bit, cry a little bit, and definitely sing a little bit,” he crowed, a line that could – and probably has – been utilised at every other tour date.
While it’s not make or break, it’s often appreciated when an artist puts a little thought into how they can customise their audience interactions; for example, Lizzo doing a shoey at her Sydney concert last year. Partaking in a cultural ritual or learning some of the local slang not only makes the artist more relatable, but endears them to their audience.
But what the show may have lacked in personalisation, it made up for in spectacle. The man’s talent as a dancer should never be understated, his razor-sharp yet butter-smooth moves taking cues from the late Michael Jackson. From the odd pyrotechnic effect to the slick choreography and giant LED screens emblazoned with colourful graphics and music video clips, Champagne & Roses was a feast for the eyes.
Champagne Life and One in a Million followed, while Sexy Love – from Ne-Yo’s 2006 debut In My Own Words – had the fans in raptures.
It’s before Sexy Love when Ne-Yo decides it’s time to pick a lucky lady in the front row to, um, hold his water bottle – a “big responsibility”, he says. Righto.
“She needs to be alert, she needs to be aware, focused, and it wouldn’t hurt if she’s cute too,” he explains. “If the rest of the show sounds like s**t, it’s her fault.”
Later on in the show, “water girl” – who we find out is the attendee behind the Tongan flag – is rewarded with a towel, wet with the sweat from Ne-Yo’s chiselled abdomen. It’s clearly intended as a playful bit, but you can’t help but wonder – what echelon of success does one have to reach to start believing their sweaty towels are genuinely desired? It’s a special brand of narcissism, but in this context, it works.
The setlist moves at a swift pace, the truncated tracks allowing Ne-Yo to squeeze in a range of “classic classics” and “future classics”; the latter referring to his newer, lesser-known material, the former being “the songs you might’ve lost your virginity to”. My experience was decidedly less romantic, but there you go.
After She Knows, the audience is welcomed into “the Gentleman’s Lair”, illustrated by footage of a scantily clad dancer coiling around a pole and close-ups of women’s enviable bodies. Ne-Yo emerges in a sparkling black suit and launches into Single, followed by Lazy Love, You Got the Body, and Mirror. This segment is intended for his more sensual material, emphasised by the celebration of the female form. However, the slower tempo appeared to lose the crowd, with many in the standing area appearing inattentive and distracted. At one point, a dancer’s bare butt straddles Ne-Yo’s face – and even that wasn’t enough to bring them back.
But just as we found ourselves clock-watching, Ne-Yo returned to his tried and trusted material, launching into the classic break-up anthem and certified banger, So Sick. The venue glimmers with phone lights as the crowd sings along with gusto. We’re back, baby.
It’s then time for the three hand-picked ladies to come on stage, where they take turns in gyrating and grinding against Ne-Yo with a confidence I could only dream of. Ne-Yo appears more than pleased with the selection but is quickly taken by contestant three, whom he brands his “future baby mama”. Her reward? Another sweaty towel.
”Ladies and gentlemen, I was sexually assaulted and I liked it. I had a great time and I’d do it again,” Ne-Yo declares as the women leave the stage. My smile falters; given the unfolding allegations against Sean “Diddy” Combs, who has faced multiple lawsuits accusing him of sexual assault, the remark feels tone-deaf and tasteless.
The third part of the show returns to welcome throwbacks, with a focus on stripped-back ballads that allow Ne-Yo’s voice – still as strong as it was almost 20 years ago – to truly shine. Do You and Mad, which have the impassioned crowd screaming along like apostles, are followed by Don’t Love Me and 2 Million Secrets. We’re then treated to a highlight reel of his work as a songwriter (snippets of Keri Hilson’s Knock You Down, Rihanna’s Take a Bow and Beyonce’s Irreplaceable) before he returns to the stage in a third outfit to cover Mario’s R&B classic, Let Me Love You, followed by Miss Independent. The combination rallies the fans, serving as a perfect lead-in to the final chapter – his dance music.
It’s at this point you realise just how extensive this man’s back catalogue is; Ne-Yo not only made his mark as an R&B crooner in the 2000s, but became a mainstay of 2010s’ dance-pop. Hit after hit galvanises the crowd, the stands shaking as thousands get to their feet and groove along to Beautiful Monster, 2 The Moon, and Let Me Love You (Until You Learn to Love Yourself). It may be dance music, but Ne-Yo’s dancing is becoming more infrequent – to be fair, I would be knackered after the opener – with the visual element now largely reliant on pyrotechnics, plumes of smoke and dazzling lights.
It’s at this point Ne-Yo asks the crowd, “Is anybody tired? Is anybody hungry? Is anybody ready to go home?”
Yes, yes, almost. But we’ve got a few more bangers to get through first.
The show wraps with the holy quartet: Let’s Go, Play Hard, Time of Our Lives, and Give Me Everything. Bursts of streamers fall into the crowd. A beaming Ne-Yo, his washboard abs on full display, makes his farewells – and we’re suddenly contestants in an unspoken race to get to the doors first.
My final thoughts? Ne-Yo ultimately can’t shake his back catalogue, no matter how strong his new material might be. He is a legacy artist defined by his early output, and while his “future classics” were still appreciated by loyal fans, they failed to resonate with more casual listeners.
All in all, the show operated like a well-oiled machine; Ne-Yo, his dancers and the band all clearly rehearsed to perfection. Yet “perfection” is the operative word: there was something inherently “by the books” about it all. Perhaps it was the lack of banter or off-the-cuff interaction, but at times it felt that Ne-Yo was performing by the numbers: so slick, so smooth, it was almost mechanical.
Of course, die-hard fans clearly didn’t mind – and that’s who Champagne & Roses is for.
Lana Andelane is an Auckland-based multimedia journalist covering lifestyle and entertainment stories. She joined the Herald in 2024 and enjoys anything related to pop culture, fashion, beauty or music.