Album Review: Vietnam - This Quiet Room (2022)

There’s probably a fairly decent grassroots biopic or screenplay lurking within the minutiae of the Vietnam backstory.

From the band’s punky activist Wainuiomata roots in 1980, to live gigging in small suburban halls, to studio sessions which yielded one solitary EP, all the way through to a couple of high profile television appearances, Vietnam’s flame burned brightly if all-too briefly.

When the band broke up in 1985 they were destined to become a mere footnote in the storied history of Wellington’s 1980s post-punk scene. Until 2016, that is, when the eponymous EP was picked up, expanded, and re-released by Spanish label, BFE. A reunion gig followed in early 2017, which led to fresh momentum and new work. That meant recording sessions in locations as culturally diverse as Sydney and Levin, with the result being the album that eventually became This Quiet Room.

Released in early 2022, and preceded by punchy advance single 'What Have I Done?', the album is an absorbing collection of tracks conceived both during the band’s original incarnation, and those of a more recent vintage; one part throwback to a bygone era, and one part excursion into state of the art post-punk, circa 2022. There’s a strong (old) new wave feel, there’s power pop, some jangle, and no little amount of social commentary.

There’s also a very cool cover of Wire’s 'Kidney Bingos', which threatens to be the best thing here. But that would perhaps be an injustice to the remaining 10 tracks on offer. Listen out too for 'Leon', a brief interlude featuring original drummer Leon Reedijk, who passed away in 2017.

Band originals Shane Bradbrook (vocals) and Adrian Workman (bass, synths, vocals) are on top form throughout, and their presence is key to pulling all constituent parts into a very cohesive whole. This Quiet Room is a compelling comeback from a long lost band, a triumph over adversity even, and if some bright spark ever does script that biopic, it’ll just as likely be the first-ever Vietnam movie with a happy ending.

This review was originally published by NZ Musician (link here).

Reaching Out to the Media

NZ Musician magazine asked a number of local bloggers and music sites to offer some thoughts about new music and publicity submissions in order to compile a definitive list of what to do and what not to do if you’re the person tasked with reaching out on the artist’s behalf. I’m on the receiving end of at least a couple of these each week, and to be perfectly honest, my main starting point with any of them is quite simple: does this music fit the profile of the blog? … which as you probably know, is mostly retro-centric with a large side of Kiwi. When reading back the views I offered NZ Musician - in the link below - it’s fair to say I come across like a grumpy old man. Which is probably because that’s exactly what I am. But please, (ahem) do keep those submissions coming …

Reaching Out to the Media (here)

The Only Way Out Is In

It’s been a year or so since I last contributed anything tangible to NZ Musician magazine (new print issue in circulation this week or next, folks) but when the chance to talk to a couple of guys from Mount Maunganui/Auckland psych-pop band The Leers presented itself a few weeks back, I couldn’t resist. The band’s debut album (of 2016) was a firm favourite of mine and news of a follow-up, not to mention a run of upcoming summer festival shows, was all the angle I needed. It was an easy chat, with a fair bit of humour, but the truth is, The Leers are deadly serious about their craft.

Recorded in Los Angeles in late 2019, the latest release is called The Only Way Out Is In (Spotify playlist embedded within the link below) and although it’s a relatively lengthy eight tracks, they were pretty insistent on calling it an EP rather an album. It takes the band’s sound firmly into the “pop” realm, a move away from the psych-rock flavour of the debut, but it’s polished, very well produced, and I can see a lot of this new material going down a storm during the series of live shows the band are about to undertake. Also, make sure you check out the new-threads cover of the Kavinsky electro classic ‘Nightcall’ which closes the EP, and is already a firm favourite of mine. 

My feature on The Leers is here.

New Zealand Music Month, AudioCulture, and All That Jazz ...

New Zealand Music Month has its critics. For many it represents little more than an inward-looking self-indulgent “pat-on-the-back” fest, and I understand that argument without necessarily buying into it. My own point of view is that NZ Music Month comes from a good place, has good intent, and if we – as New Zealanders – don’t celebrate this stuff, then nobody else will. It’s easy to forget that it wasn’t all that long ago we had to introduce quotas just to ensure New Zealand music was played on local radio. 

For this May’s annual celebration of New Zealand Music Month, I’m posting a series of classic (and some not so classic) local music clips on the blog’s Facebook page. You can check out the page and perhaps even give it a 'like' or a 'follow' (steady on!) here …

But it also seems timely to once again celebrate the ongoing contribution to the rich tapestry of New Zealand music history currently being made by the AudioCulture site (click here), which documents artists, bands, scenes, venues, and just about every other conceivable angle on pop culture in this part of the world – archiving stuff from days gone by right up to the present day. There really is nothing else like it. The “noisy library of New Zealand music” is an incredible resource that will only continue to get bigger and better as more boxes are ticked, as more artists/bands are profiled, and as more scenes and venue histories are explored.

I feel lucky to have been a part of it, and to have been paid for being a part of it, with site content dudes Simon Grigg and Chris Bourke having indulged a few of my own ramblings about various things near and dear to my own nostalgic heart. With – gratuitous plug alert – my “scene” contributions about nightclubbing in Wellington in the 1980s (here), the fabulous Soul Mine record store (here), the long-running retro Atomic and 24-Hour Party People club nights (here), and my band profile of early 90s Wellington funk-rockers Emulsifier (here). 

I appreciate that I’m not a particularly great writer or wordsmith, but these articles are born from a passion I can scarcely contain, one driven by a love of all things “us” and local, and I’ve always felt that unless those of us who were there at the time (pre-internet, pre-Social Media) make an effort to document the regional grassroots stuff, much of it will fall between the cracks and be lost forever. 

It’s also something I try to achieve on this blog. I take some heart from the fact that as I approach the blogpost number 600, all lack of direct feedback aside, everythingsgonegreen is fast closing in on some 250,000 unique page hits. Small beer in the wider context of things, I know, but it may surprise you that local or specifically New Zealand-based content accounts for three of the four “most read” posts. The most read being a very niche piece about 1980s um, nightlife, in the sprawling metropolis that is Palmerston North. Who knew nearly 13,000 readers even cared? 

So I guess people love nostalgia, especially smalltown/local nostalgia. Go figure. 

Finally, just quickly, I also want to give a shout out for NZ Musician magazine (see here). Writing various bits and bobs (features and reviews) for that publication (unpaid) over a five-year period – although I’ve contributed very little of late – has been a pleasure, and I guess it gave me the confidence to write that other stuff for AudioCulture. 

Things don’t get much more grassroots than NZ Musician. It really does dig deep, and although it too has come in for some unwarranted criticism over the years, specifically for being unable to pay its contributors, so many artists and bands have received an important leg up from the exposure provided by that particular mag for the 30-odd years its been doing its very funky thing. Long may it continue … online or otherwise. 

When all is said and done though, the absolute best way to celebrate New Zealand Music Month is to find some time this month to go to a local gig. Pay on the door. Support young up and coming bands. Buy something local from Bandcamp (or elsewhere if you can find an actual store). Buy something direct from the artist or band itself … and keep doing it, not just across May, but all year long. And tell your friends to do the same.

Miromiro's Toucan

Just a quick note on another Wellington-based electronic producer with new work released on Bandcamp last week … Miromiro, who I’ve blogged about previously and once profiled for New Zealand Musician magazine. Toucan is a mini album, a snack-sized treat, five delicious synthwave(y) bites of electro goodness. There appears to be a theme, as Miromiro dips a toe into the decidedly murky world of South American politics, with track titles referencing several prominent current day Brazilian politicians. Grab it or stream it below ...

Choice Kiwi Cuts 2018: Stef Animal - Our Spanish Dream

Released back in February, Stef Animal's Top Gear album was something quite special. For reasons many and varied. But rather than go into too much detail about the concept behind the album (my review for NZ Musician is here if you want that detail), I thought I'd share with you my own favourite piece from the album: 'Our Spanish Dream (Roland U-110)', which closed proceedings in truly majestic fashion:

Album Review: Armchair Insomniacs - Armchair Insomniacs (2018)

If your only exposure to Auckland band Armchair Insomniacs has been the popular tune 'Wide Awake In Wonderland', featuring local rapper Leva, you’d be forgiven for thinking that the band’s primary modus operandi was one of hard-hitting socially conscious hip-hop. 

That tune – and its supporting video – has been widely shared on various social media platforms in recent months. Yet, as good as it undoubtedly is, that specific track isn’t really all that representative of the band, or indeed the rest of the material found on its eclectic self-titled debut album. 

If anything, Armchair Insomniacs appeal more as an unlikely post-millennium throwback to the delights and glory days of the Seventies yacht rock era. A feeling immediately heightened by the immaculate production wizardry on offer right across the album’s nine-track, 40-minute duration. Something that results in a smooth space rock vibe, with the most obvious local reference point from that bygone era being a band like Golden Harvest, say. 

All achieved with the fixtures and fittings of modern day technology, which naturally helps to give the music a next level sheen well beyond anything that was even possible back then. 

It’s a little bit like getting the best of both worlds; the past duly excavated, before being dressed up and presented with a very contemporary spin. 

Throw in a little bit of prog, a few guitar solos, bountiful hooks, and song titles like 'Sun', 'Free Love', and 'Stoned' – the latter being a real highlight – and it becomes almost impossible to argue that Armchair Insomniacs are anything other than staunch students of pop music history with serious talent to burn, man.

(An expanded/edited version of this review can also be found here at NZ Musician)

Fresh Miromiro

Ashok Jacob, who makes ambient “organic” electronica under the guise of Miromiro, is a young guy I had the pleasure of profiling for NZ Musician a year or so ago. He contacted me this week to alert me to the fact that he’s put an entirely new set of tunes up on Bandcamp, an album, Prachanda Path, which is a follow-up to the well-received Kembe Falls release. It’s also available for streaming on Spotify. Have a listen …

Album Review: This Pale Fire - Alchemy (2017)

Another review I had published in the May/June 2018 issue of NZ Musician magazine:

It feels like an age since Auckland’s Corban Koschak announced his arrival as a young songwriter of depth and eloquence on This Pale Fire’s debut EP, Dusk (2014). The intervening years have seen Koschak hone his craft and build a solid reputation on the local live circuit, prior to the release of this full-length debut, Alchemy, in late 2017. Alchemy resumes where Dusk left off, with a 12-track set full of gentle, emotive, acoustic gems of understated beauty, which mostly deal with love, loss, and all manner of existential angst. Throughout, Koschak, working closely with frequent collaborator and album producer Levi Patel, demonstrates an innate understanding of songcraft and arrangement. Each tune is given ample room to breathe, build, and develop a life of its own. From pastoral opener 'Northern Lights' through to dreamy closer 'Outro', nothing feels out of place or rushed. Each track benefits from rare attention to detail, whether it’s the range of instrumentation on offer – acoustic and electric guitars, keys, and strings, most notably, cello – or whether it’s the sumptuous production gloss provided by Patel. If there’s a slight concern, it’s that some of This Pale Fire’s work can tend to come across as being a little one dimensional in places. Much of this stuff is dark, intimate, and haunting, to the point where, depending on your constitution, you may feel like tuning out, or looking the other way, to avoid (what feels like) an element of rubber-necking on Koschak’s heartfelt personal pain. Or perhaps it’s simply the case that being able to draw you in so close in the first place works as the album’s greatest strength? Whatever the case, Alchemy is a dreampop masterclass, and a terrific debut from an artist surely destined for much greater things.

Album Review: Stef Animal - Top Gear (2018)

I had this review published in the May/June 2018 edition of NZ Musician magazine:

Dunedin’s Fishrider Records has a long history of raising a pointy middle finger in the general direction of all things orthodox, and the debut solo release of Stef Animal (Golden Awesome), the aptly titled Top Gear, is certainly no exception. Upon my first sighting of Top Gear, in immaculately packaged CD form, with the relevant equipment credits listed beside each track on the back cover, I wondered if it was a sampler release meant for an antique music shop, or for a sound tech, or at the very least, someone eminently more qualified (to review) than myself. It turns out I was wrong, it’s a fully legit album in its own right. More than that, it’s a superbly executed concept album with strictly adhered to rules and parameters in place. Not content with being fascinated by old keyboards and vintage synth equipment, Stef Animal is an unashamed collector, and on Top Gear she puts fifteen of the decadent old beasts, or variations thereof, to very good use. With one piece of equipment used for each track on the album (rule one), and each composition being written and recorded in one sitting (rule two), it quickly becomes an exercise in not only wanton nostalgia, but life-affirming wonderment. Sounds produced by the pre-loved likes of the Casio SK-1, the Casiotone MT-800, the Commodore Amiga 500, and the Atari 2600 do tend to have that effect. And while Yamahas and Rolands of various vintages will have you either wistfully reminiscing about the days of yore, or simply wondering what all the fuss is about, Top Gear’s coup de grace arrives relatively early, on a track called ‘Ducks’, which features something called the Cass Creek Electronic Waterfowl Call. Yes, it’s an electronic duck caller, no less. Experimentation, ambition, talent, and life in general, are indeed wonderful things. Sometimes it takes something as seemingly inauspicious as Stef Animal’s solo debut to remind you of that.    

Something Different: Estella Dawn

Writing for NZ Musician is essentially a labour of love, and while it’s given me the opportunity to chat with local heroes like Paddy Free (Pitch Black), Darren Watson, and the guys from Head Like A Hole, to name just a couple, few interviews come with the personal connection this one offered ... that rare experience of chatting with someone you first met when they were a baby. Or when you can claim to have met their grandparents, even!

Estella Dawn is a young Kiwi singer-songwriter of considerable promise, currently based in Colorado, and although I don’t necessarily fit the exact demographic Estella’s wholesome pop style targets, I really enjoyed having the opportunity to profile her for NZ Musician – by way of an “ex-pat files” piece on the magazine’s website (link below). You can sample her sole release to date via Spotify, but look out too for a new set of tunes in the not too distant future ...

Estella Dawn profiled for NZ Musician (here)

Film Review: Into The Void, a documentary by Margaret Gordon

NZ Musician has published my review of Into The Void, Margaret Gordon’s wonderful documentary about the Christchurch band of the same name. The film was a festival hit as long ago as 2014, but was finally released on DVD last week. The documentary has music at its core, but more than anything it’s a study of the human condition, a story about friendship, and a tale of survival against a mountain of odds … check it out (trailer in link):

https://nzmusician.co.nz/features/dvd-review-into-the-void/

Quite often, the very best music documentaries are those about artists or bands otherwise ignored by the mainstream. The real grassroots stuff, behind-the-scenes warts ‘n all stories focusing rather more on the flaws and frailties of the human condition. Which is precisely where Margaret Gordon’s oddball and frequently hilarious independent documentary about Christchurch noise merchants Into The Void fits. The film gained festival plaudits back in 2014 but is only now getting a more wide-reaching, deserved, DVD release.

For 25 years, from the late ‘80s through to 2014, Into The Void were mainstays of the Christchurch music scene. If not exactly as heart of the scene, then most definitely as life and soul of the many parties. The first thing we learn about the band is that they all like a drink. Or twelve.

The second is that they’re far more comfortable playing live than they are in the recording studio. Whether on stage at the Dux de Lux or at Lyttelton’s Wunderbar, or within the confines of their now demolished (post-earthquakes) inner-city band practice room.

Across the course of that 25-year period, the band, originally a quartet that morphed into a sextet, released just two albums. An eponymously titled debut on Flying Nun in 1993, and a self-released follow-up some 11 years later. But that part feels almost superfluous to this story, and the really good oil here comes as each band member offers an insight into their lives together.

There’s vocalist Ronnie van Hout, a conceptual artist who now lives in Melbourne. Guitarist Jason Greig, a self-confessed metal tragic, and another artist, whose own unique area of speciality is creating “prints of darkness”. Drummer Mark Whyte, a sculptor and all round funny guy. And then there’s Paul Sutherland, an eccentric “turntablist” who seems perfectly comfortable with the fact that the rest of the band can never really hear what he’s playing. So long as there’s nobs and gadgets to fiddle with, he’s more than happy. That’s the original four, with Galaxy Records owner Dave Imlay (bass), and James Greig (guitar) – cousin of Jason – being later additions.

Gordon makes good use of archive footage of the band at various stages of its existence – from the early ‘90s through to its post-earthquake vintage – and near the end we see the band playing to a small outdoor evening crowd on a vacant lot. But not just any vacant lot, it’s the exact spot their precious band practice room once stood. It’s a special moment as Jason Greig’s final heartfelt solo rings out into the Christchurch night air.

Throughout the 70-minute documentary, we get tidbits of gold from various friends and contemporaries, among them members of bands like the Terminals and the Dead C. More poignantly there’s some classic footage of onetime band manager Celia Mancini (R.I.P.) who tragically passed in 2017.

More than any of that though, Into The Void is a story about a group of mates who just enjoyed each other’s company. For 25 years. Drinking, smoking, falling over, laughing, surviving earthquakes, and playing music as loud as humanly possible.

Margaret Gordon offers just enough on each band member, so we feel as though we might know them by the end. At the very least, we all know someone just like them, and that’s the real triumph of this film.