EP Review: The Emptys Response - Nový Den (2021)

Nový Den is a three track EP from Wellington multi-instrumentalist Jamie Scott Palmer, wearing his solo artist hat as The Emptys Response.

Released in early January of 2021, Nový Den loosely translates (from Czech) to mean “a new day”, which seems quite apt for a new year release, but I also suspect the title may be of greater personal significance for Palmer; as someone I’ve followed closely on social media for a few years he strikes me as a guy who is constantly looking to move forward, to challenge himself, and to challenge wider society’s accepted norms. Someone who craves answers to many of life’s more difficult questions. I’ve met Palmer out and about very briefly a few times in Wellington, usually at the tail end of gigs, which isn’t always the best environment to discuss such matters, or to get a full grasp of what makes an artist tick, so all of the above is merely an impression I’ve formed and not necessarily the gospel according to those who actually know him well.

What I do know for certain is that two of the more recent musical projects Palmer has been involved with - Dreams Are Like Water and Buffalo Bunny - produced some of the best beneath-the-mainstream-radar indie rock I’ve heard from these shores across the past decade. I’ve previously raved about the solitary Dreams Are Like Water release (here), so I won’t go into too much more detail about that. Suffice to say, Palmer’s contribution (keys, occasional guitar) was an integral part of that band’s appeal.

And the Buffalo Bunny stuff - collaborating with performance artist Victoria Singh - of 2019/2020 was almost more David Lynch than Lynch himself. The duo’s early 2020 Covid-themed track ‘2 Meters’ (clip here) was easily the best musical realisation of the dystopian or pre-apocalyptic collective angst created by the first global lockdown I heard during that period. The nonchalant or subtle mimicry of that whole “be kind to one another, follow the leader, and don’t ask questions” theme within ‘2 Meters’ was subliminally brilliant, mischievously subversive, and for many, right on the money. There were other great Buffalo Bunny moments too, and it is of some regret that I caught only the tail end of one of their rare live sets (at Wellington’s Pyramid Club) during their all too short-lived existence.

Which brings us to The Emptys Response and Palmer in his solo guise (phew, we got there eventually), by some distance his most prolific platform when it comes to work released online. Across many years. Including the Nový Den EP, which amounts to three relatively lengthy atmospheric instrumental tracks which blend together or cross-pollinate a number of different genres, from ambient to electronica to dark post-punk to a mild form of spacey psychedelia.

There was a certain irony for me that I was stuck in motorway traffic gridlock when first absorbing the scene-setting opener ‘The Drive Home’ which is effectively a probing low key synthetic pulse that threatens to explode at any moment without ever quite managing it across its near eight-minute duration. It is dark and quite tense without ever becoming too overwhelming. More of a mood or vibe than anything else, and I’m still trying to decide whether the drums are program generated or the result of a more human or live organic approach, on a loop. There’s a lot to be said for a live drum sound, and if this isn’t that, then Palmer’s done a pretty good job replicating it.

The second track, ‘Terraforma’, feels more substantial and is perhaps the most accessible of the three on offer. A dense, repetitive, almost bleak slice of semi-industrial grinding electronica which builds in tension to become quite riveting, it’s probably my pick of the bunch. See clip below.

The final track ‘11:11’ - which not coincidentally is its length - is an exercise in spaced out ambience and it’s another which slowly builds in intensity as we journey through its various subtle mood changing soundscapes. Ethereal and entirely beatless until just before the seven-minute mark, it may upon first listen feel a little directionless, or prone to drift for too long, but subsequent listens will reveal that there’s a lot more going on than might initially be obvious.

You can check out Palmer’s extensive collection of solo work on his website here.

Album Review: Disjecta Membra - Achromaticia (1997/2017 20th Anniversary Edition)

When Michel Rowland of Disjecta Membra revealed late last year that the band’s debut album from 1997, Achromaticia, was about to benefit from a twentieth anniversary makeover, I knew immediately that I needed to pick up a copy. Despite already having a copy of the album in digital form, I pre-ordered the expanded triple CD set online and waited some months for its arrival. There were delays, mostly due to the fact that Rowland is a staunch perfectionist who wanted to get every last detail of the release exactly right, but late last month the CD(s) finally turned up in my letterbox. It’s fair to say, it was well worth the wait.

The release is made up of the original album on one CD, plus two further CDs containing demos, live tracks, covers, and excerpts from a Contact FM radio interview recorded while the band was still in its infancy. My purchase included a fourth element in the form of an additional digital download, which features more odds and ends of that ilk. The whole thing presents a fascinating, comprehensive, grassroots-level overview of one of Aotearoa’s most unique bands.

In fact, it wouldn’t be a stretch to describe the Hamilton-born, now Wellington-based Disjecta Membra as this country’s leading darkwave or goth rock band. Rowland – as founder (in late 1993), vocalist, and principal songwriter – has always been at the heart of all things Disjecta Membra, with various band members coming and going over the course of the past two decades. The album’s inlay and liner notes acknowledge the other key individuals involved, and to some extent those notes work as a potted history of the band. That booklet, and the packaging in general (photos, artwork, notes), is a lovely bonus.

The music on the core album itself is typically dark and cinematic. It opens with the dramatic ‘Cathedral’ and builds in intensity from there. ‘Cathedral’ finds Rowland channelling the not-quite-yet ghost of Andrew Eldritch and that track pops up again later in the form of a Deus ex Machina remix. For me, it is the heavier tunes within the 14-track set, such as ‘Rats’, ‘Cauldron of Cerridwen’, and ‘The Sleep’ which hold the most appeal. But there’s a good mix of stuff – from shorter tracks like the dreamy spoken word wonderment of ‘Malcolm’, and the one-minute interlude of ‘Androgyne Waltz’, to the theatrical-almost-epic qualities of the 11-minute-plus closer ‘Danse Macabre’, which never quite lets you breathe out. In short, the album covers a great deal of ground.

Probably not quite as much ground as the three bonus sets (two discs, one download) however, which offer huge insight into how the band evolved. It has to be said, some of the earliest demos, the basement and garage recordings, are a hard listen, simply because of the poor audio quality. As you’d expect from material of that description, and vintage. Similarly, a lot of the live stuff sounds a little worse for wear. Yet, for all of those flaws, there’s real energy there, and a genuine sense of the post-punk spirit which clearly drove the band in its fledgling form. Most captivating, for me, are the various covers on offer, with work by some of my own favourites – The Cure, Sisters of Mercy, Bauhaus, and Siouxsie – all getting at least one box ticked.

Overall, the triple CD/four-set release is a wonderful snapshot of early Disjecta Membra. It’s one of those time-and-place things. If you weren’t there – and I wasn’t – it doesn’t really matter, you can catch up now with this massive collection of archive material. Probably more Disjecta Membra than you’ll ever really need, but well worth the indulgence all the same. Terrific stuff.

Read more about Disjecta Membra here, here, and here.

Disjecta Membra's website

And you can read more about Michel Rowland’s “other” project here.

Here's Cathedral ...

EP Review: Dreams Are Like Water - A Sea-Spell (2017)

Of all the local debut releases I've been exposed to over the past couple of years, few have made as big a first impression (on me) as A Sea-Spell, the highly polished first outing for Wellington three-piece Dreams Are Like Water.

I suspect a small part of that is simply down to a personal genre preference, with Dreams Are Like Water specialising in the sort of dark post-punk your reviewer reserves a real fondness for. But by the same measure, my love of that sound just as likely means I'm going to listen with a far more critical ear than I perhaps otherwise would.

In fact, it's virtually impossible to listen to the EP - which traverses four tracks - without spontaneous recall of early Cure, Kaleidoscope-era Siouxsie, All About Eve, or the ethereal dark beauty of the Cocteau Twins’ best work. Incidentally, the band name is the title of a This Mortal Coil tune, and TMC was, of course, a precursor act and 4AD label-mate of the Cocteau Twins.

So that’s the general template offered here, or at the very least, the band – Rosebud Garland (vocals, piano, bass), Michel Rowland (vocals, guitar), and Jamie Scott Palmer (synths/keys, guitar) – is able to offer up its own variation on those rather terrific touchstones. While the ethos is perhaps a little derivative, the execution here is distinctly original.

There's a lightness of touch and an unhurried charm about proceedings, best demonstrated on the title track and opener, which features a gentle melody and shared vocals from Garland and Rowland. There’s an immediate sense that this is going to be dark stuff, yet Garland’s almost saccharine vocal gives it a lift, and her voice offers the requisite shard of light amid the wider sense of gloom. It really is a wonderful early example of the subtlety and balance at play right across the duration of the EP.

‘(Thrice) In Blood’ is of a higher tempo, slightly edgy, with swirly post-punk guitar, and intermittent use of piano. Those somewhat haunting keys feature again on ‘Ineffable’, an atmospheric brooding equivalent, which is perhaps best appreciated after several plays. That way you can digest the extra layers of texture, and fully appreciate the way the band is able to skilfully master the delicate art of repetition. Which is key, a hook in itself, and quite a powerful thing.

I initially thought ‘(Thrice) In Blood’ was the best track on the EP, but it turns out I just needed to be more patient with the closer, ‘Feathered Infant Bells’, which becomes an exercise in slow-build and tension; we’re nearly a full four minutes into it before Garland's vocal finally kicks in and the whole thing starts reveal itself in all of its fluorescent multi-layered glory. There’s some superb vocal FX on offer as the powers of light and dark once again start to caress and bounce off of each other, and this nine-minute epic is a perfect finale to what is a truly intense listening experience.

The whole thing is lovingly mixed and produced by Bryan Tabuteau (Molière Recording), and if there’s an EP or album with more fitting cover art this year – a painting by 19^th century artist Dante Gabriel Rossetti (called A Sea-Spell, naturally) – then I’ve yet to discover it.

You can pick up your copy of the EP at the Dreams Are Like Water Bandcamp page (here) …

 

And here’s ‘Feathered Infant Bells’: