Review: Coterie — Fire on the Coast, Brotherhood at the Core

Apr 22
4 min read

There’s something about being behind the camera that lets you see the moments most people miss.

The in-between spaces.

The quiet before the storm.

For me, with Coterie, that moment was everything.

Before they even touched the stage, there was a huddle — tight, grounded, locked in. Four brothers, connected in a way that goes beyond music. You could feel it. Not performance, not showmanship — something real. The kind of unity you don’t fake. The kind that comes from years — not just playing together — but growing up together.

Born in Tauranga, raised here in Western Australia, their sound carries both places with it. There’s the warmth of the coast, the rhythm of the ocean, but also something deeper — a cultural thread that runs through everything they do. Their Māori heritage isn’t something they wear on the surface — it’s embedded in how they move, how they connect, how they show up as a unit.

That pre-show moment? It wasn’t just ritual.

It was grounding. It was respect. It was brotherhood in its purest form.

And then… they exploded.

From that stillness into pure, undeniable energy.

What makes Coterie stand out live isn’t just the sound — though that sun-soaked blend of reggae, indie rock, and pop hits instantly — it’s how tight they are as a band. There’s no hesitation, no searching. Every transition feels instinctive. Like they already know where each other is going before they get there.

Tyler’s vocals carry that smooth, effortless tone — the kind that pulls you in without trying too hard. Joshua layers in those textures and keys that give the songs depth. Brandford holds it all down with groove, while Conrad’s guitar cuts through with just the right amount of edge.

But it never feels like four individuals trying to stand out.

It feels like one movement.

And the crowd feels that.

Scarborough answered back instantly. Voices up, bodies moving — a crowd that didn’t just watch, but joined in. It’s one thing to have fans. It’s another to have people who know your songs like they’re part of their own story. Tracks like “Cool It Down” and “Killing It Off” weren’t just played — they were lived out loud, together.

That’s not accidental.

That’s years of building something real — from garage jams to stages like this.

The production matched it too. Pyrotechnics lit the night as the band pushed through the sparks, not missing a beat — turning the stage into something wild, something untamed. It wasn’t just a set. It was a surge.

And yet, in the middle of all that chaos, there were moments of humour and connection that cut through. At one point, they teased bringing out SIX60 for their collaboration. For a split second, even knowing better, I believed it.

That’s the pull they have.

That ability to draw you right into the moment — fully — before flipping it, laughing with the crowd, and carrying on like nothing could touch them.

They didn’t need anyone else up there.

They were enough.

There’s also something to be said about where they sit right now as a band.

They’re not just riding a wave — they’re building one.

From a breakout track like “Cool It Down” going double platinum in New Zealand, to taking out Breakout Artist of the Year — you can see the trajectory. But standing there on the sand, none of that felt like ego.

It felt like gratitude.

Like they know what it took to get here — and they’re not letting go of that.

That’s what keeps them grounded.

That’s what keeps them dangerous in the best way possible.

For me, this set hit differently.

In this new version of life I’m figuring out, there are a lot of nights spent alone with music — voices filling spaces that used to be shared. Artists like Coterie, Rei, six60 and Billy Raffoul become part of that world. So standing there, camera in hand, trying to stay steady enough to capture something through all that movement… it meant more than just coverage.

It was presence.

And in true Tatt fashion, I wasn’t exactly blending into the background.

Somewhere between shooting photos and losing myself in the music, I was just… moving. Dancing. Existing fully in it. And what I didn’t expect was how much that connected with people around me. Strangers stopping to say they loved the outfit, the energy, the freedom of it all. One of those moments that feels surreal when you step back from it.

Even earlier, on the way in, a kid — maybe five or six — called out that they loved the outfit and wanted to dress like that.

That stuck.

Because it’s a reminder: when someone shows up as themselves, unapologetically, it gives other people permission to do the same.

And that’s the ripple effect of nights like this.

You don't have to be an artist to live your authentic life - you just need their courage.

The courage to show up as yourself.