Hosted and curated by Joe Daymond, Comedy Mixtape is a high-energy stand-up showcase built like a perfect set list: comedians you already rate, comedians you’re about to start recommending, and a few moments that remind you why live comedy is undefeated.
Joe Daymond’s Comedy Mixtape is one of those rare festival nights where you feel the energy shift the moment you walk in. There is a buzz that sits somewhere between a family gathering and a block party, and by the time Joe steps onto the stage, the room is already humming. He has always had a gift for connection, but this show feels like something more. It feels like a celebration of community, of voice, of humour that comes straight from the heart of Aotearoa.
The show is genuinely hard to review because every comedian brought a completely different flavour to the stage. The lineup moved from bold storytelling to chaotic confessionals to the kind of filthy humour that spirals into unexpected territory. One performer launched into a story about her first intimate encounter with such enthusiasm that I found myself glancing sideways, convinced her whānau were sitting right next to me. It was outrageous, joyful, and delivered with the kind of confidence that makes you forget to breathe between laughs. The whole night was loose, fast, and wildly entertaining.
Jonjon Tolovae
What made the evening feel so refreshing was the absence of Pākehā comedians. That one detail shifted the entire dynamic. The room felt freer. The performers felt freer. The audience felt like they were part of the show rather than spectators. The heckling was not just tolerated; it became part of the rhythm. At one point, the audience started heckling another audience member, and the comedians simply let it unfold. It was fluid, natural, and genuinely one of the funniest moments of the night. It felt like being at a family event where everyone is roasting each other, but with stage lights and a camera crew.
Joe’s hosting was a masterclass in warmth and timing. His banter with Randy at the start wrapped the room in a sense of comfort, the kind that makes you feel like you are in safe hands, even when the jokes are heading into unhinged territory. They touched on heavy themes too, especially the way men talk, or avoid talking, about depression. The statistics are brutal, but somehow they turned that weight into a space where dark humour could breathe. It was raw and honest, the kind of laughter that sits in your chest long after the moment passes.
Uce Gang
Each comedian had five minutes under the red light, and every single one of them made it count. Ama, Bubbah, Jonjon, Richie Faavesi, Tesi Naufahu, and Uce Gang each brought something bold and unapologetic. Pure, queer, Pasifika, Māori, and delightfully naughty. For many of them, this was the biggest audience they had ever performed for, but you would never have known. If nerves were there, they were buried under presence, charisma, and absolute commitment to the bit.
The variety was one of the show’s greatest strengths. One performer leaned into sharp observational humour. Another delivered a story so chaotic it felt like a fever dream. Another brought a softness that caught the room off guard. The shifts in tone never felt jarring. Instead, they created a rhythm that kept the audience leaning forward, waiting to see what would happen next. It was a mixtape in the truest sense. A curated blend of voices that somehow fit together perfectly.
Bubbah
By the halfway point, the show no longer felt like a showcase. It felt like whānau. A room full of people who understood each other, even if they had never met. There were moments that made people double over, moments that made people gasp, and moments that felt almost too wholesome for a night filled with such unfiltered humour.
One of the most memorable parts of the night came courtesy of a group of Americans from Tennessee who had landed in Aotearoa that very day. Their first New Zealand experience was being given tourist recommendations by the entire audience. It was chaos. It was beautiful. And I genuinely fear for their itinerary now that they believe Rewa is a must‑see destination. They were taking notes. Actual notes. I hope someone intervenes before they end up on an unexpected suburban adventure.
Richie Fa'avesi
The show was filmed, so I will tread carefully, but when it is released, it will be unmissable. There is something special about seeing a community lift each other up, especially in an industry where Māori and Pasifika voices have had to carve out their own space. Joe’s influence was visible in every moment. His support for the next generation of comedians is not performative. It is real, grounded, and deeply felt. You could see the gratitude in the way the comedians spoke about him, the way they looked at him, the way they stepped onto that stage knowing he had their back.
What struck me most was the overwhelming sense of love in the room. Not the soft, sentimental kind, but the loud, rowdy, teasing kind that comes from people who genuinely care about each other. The kind that fills a space with warmth even when the jokes are filthy. The kind that makes you feel like you have been invited into something special.
Comedy Mixtape is more than a show. It is a movement. A celebration of heart, hope, and community. A reminder that live comedy is undefeated when it is rooted in authenticity. I walked out feeling lighter, happier, and genuinely honoured to have been there. Five stars, without hesitation.
The show is part of the NZ International Comedy Festival. Find tickets to a show near you here
Review written by Josh McNally
Edited by Alex Moulton