Like many music enthusiasts, I've been to a lot of concert. But I had never seen fans love an artist the way Janine's fans love her. Some were crying, others dancing, everyone singing every lyric. One person next to me kept saying how much Janine's music had changed their life and saved their marriage. There were even VIP meet-and-greet packages — at a 250-cap venue — just so people could tell her thank you in person. It says everything about her audience: they don't just listen, they truly love and believe in her. 

The night opened with Brandon, a solo performer sitting on a stool with just his electric guitar. Dressed sleekly, he carried himself with quiet confidence. His sound lived between R&B, soul, and indie rock, and his smooth voice, reminiscent of Frank Ocean, filled the room with gentle melancholy.

Each song revolved around love — mostly lost, sometimes hopeful — supported by elegant guitar lines that complemented his tone. Between songs, the crowd cheered him on. He laughed at himself after starting to play "September" by accident: "I'm giving away all my secrets. Let's play 'September,'" he said, smiling. He admitted he was trying not to laugh because his three best friends were right at the front. The audience adored him for it. 

Then came Janine, from Auckland, New Zealand, known for her deeply honest R&B and her close connection with fans. Her stage setup — roses spiraling up the mic stand, guitarist Josh and drummer Dillon backing her — mirrored the warmth of her new album Pain and Paradise. She opened with a reflective spoken intro layered with piano and guitar, ending softly with the phrase, "and that is… pain and paradise." The crowd screamed every word that followed.

Throughout the set, Janine balanced humor and vulnerability. She laughed about steaming her pants before the show only to realize they’d stretched — "Now I have to walk like this so I don't trip," she joked. Later, she encouraged the audience to join her in a "little two-step, then a little four-step," and everyone followed.

But she also opened up about heavier things: getting out of a relationship where she no longer recognized herself, and writing songs about loving someone who didn’t truly love her back. For one track — a viral TikTok song — she stood alone onstage with just an acoustic guitar, her voice raw but steady.

In the front row was Ralphie, 35, a longtime fan who's been following Janine since 2017 but was seeing her live for the first time. His favorite song is "Broke Me Down." He described her music as "smooth, like date-night kind of R&B," and said her lyrics feel "personal" — like she's lived the same emotions her listeners have.

He told me that Janine has reached out and replied to his DMs on Instagram a few times over the years. That small act of recognition, he said, is what makes her community feel real. Her shows are safe spaces for loving each other, and looking around the room, it was impossible to disagree.

Midway through, the crowd roared as Dillon launched into a drum solo that turned into a full-blown groove session, with Josh weaving in warm chords. Janine used the moment to breathe — then shared stories between songs.

Before "Thank You for Breaking My Heart," she talked about wishing for someone who turned out not to be what she wanted, and gave a shoutout to her London-based producer Gigi, who had flown in for the show. Later, she introduced "Loving Me" by sharing the story of a fan whose experience inspired the song, saying she wanted everyone to repeat its words until they believed them.

When the main set ended, Janine didn't leave the stage for a typical encore. Instead, she stayed, smiling at the crowd. "I get scared of encores," she admitted. "What if people leave thinking I'm rude for not saying goodbye?" The audience laughed, shouting for more.

By the end of the night, it was clear that Janine doesn't just have fans — she has a community. They know her stories, her humor, her heartbreaks. They know that behind the glamour and the roses is someone who writes to survive, and who reaches back when they write to her.

It seems to me like Pain and Paradise isn't just her album title. It's the blueprint for her live show: a space where both can exist, and where everyone leaves a little lighter for having sung through both.

Thank you for the music!

— Lio