It remains unclear as to which came first, the chicken or The Eggs. Regardless, this ensemble has been the most obstinate omelette on Wellington’s monthly music buffet for upward of eight years. That is to say: a dozen hard boiled huevos have been hitting the heights of heavy soul every month, for just shy of a decade, at the Capital’s favourite midnight mansion: The Matterhorn.

The last saturday of every month is when you get your eggs: poached, fried and scrambled. Enter the orbit of the omnipotent organ where the dance floor dreams of devastating drums! Become enamored of the elliptically eloquent extemporizations of Imon Starr. Be enthralled by the awe-inspiring elucidations of the oracular, the spectacular Lisa Tomlins.

And if you miss it, just make sure you get there for next month. Or the next month. And so on. Get there early – or should that be late? Because the last thing Saturday night is the first thing Sunday morning! Roll up the rugs and stack the chairs – The Eggs are cooking once again.
The Eggs
Fat Freddy's Drop