Choice Kiwi Cuts 2021: The Chills - 'Monolith'

During a year (and in a world) full of upheaval and uncertainty it’s sometimes reassuring to know that some things never change. Especially when that “thing” has been around for decades and involves the mercurial ability to produce clever, quirky, intimate pop music on a whim. Step forward Martin Phillipps and The Chills, with another understated pop masterclass in the form of 2021 album Scatterbrain. It probably won’t win any shiny gongs or be acclaimed as the band’s “best ever” in years to come (because it definitely isn’t that) but it still has enough personality and warmth to be considered yet another primo addition to the band’s ongoing legacy. ‘Monolith’ was the scene-setting album opener and one of my own favourites ...

(Choice Kiwi Cuts 2021 is a series of blogposts which seek to highlight the best tracks released by New Zealand artists over the course of the calendar year. Not necessarily the “best” in any commercial sense, but those which have proven to be the best additions to this blogger’s music collection)

Album Review: The Chills - Scatterbrain (2021)

A few months back, when the Guardian published a list of the ten “best” Chills songs to celebrate the arrival of the band’s new album, Scatterbrain, all of the songs featured on the list were released between 1981 and 1990. And although that list did tend to capture the essence of the band’s best work, anyone unfamiliar with The Chills might be left wondering if that’s all there is, or was, to The Chills ... a band consigned to the 80s with little worth celebrating over the past 30-odd years? Fans of band are likely to see things a bit differently.

 For the record, ‘House with a Hundred Rooms’ topped the list, ahead of more obvious bangers like ‘I Love My Leather Jacket’ and ‘Pink Frost’, but there was no room for ‘Heavenly Pop Hit’ or a multitude of other post-1990 gems. Fair enough, lists are merely lists after all, and that was the Guardian’s view. 

Scatterbrain is the band’s seventh studio album, the first since 2018’s well-received Snow Bound, and it finds the band’s songwriter and key protagonist Martin Phillipps in a contemplative and reflective mood. Which is perhaps understandable … anyone who has viewed the excellent recent music-documentary, ‘The Chills: The Triumph and Tragedy of Martin Phillipps’, will have been given a good insight into Phillipps’ rather tumultuous personal journey over the years. 

On Scatterbrain we find Phillipps offering up a few more thoughts about where that journey has taken him, bringing us up to date with where things are at, a little further along the path, in 2021. With a refreshing honesty and maturity. In that same warm familiar clever way he always has. As a man now confronting his own fragility, his own mortality, and that of those around him. 

But while death is one of the most immediately evident themes on Scatterbrain, not least on tunes like ‘Destiny’ and ‘Caught In My Eye’, there’s also plenty of positivity to be found, and an affirmation that life is full of twists and turns. Delivered with certain pragmatism and an acceptance that all of our journeys are constantly evolving. 

‘Safe and Sound’ is one of the best low-key takes on offer, a very Dunedin take, even, where Phillipps ponders the simple pleasures of being tucked up “safe and sound” at home on the sofa in front of a crackling fire on a cold winter’s night … “let’s stay at home, we won’t go out tonight” … 

Musically it is everything you’d expect from The Chills. Subtle hooks, catchy choruses that tend to creep up on you, and clever use of instruments that wouldn’t always be the most obvious choice for a lesser composer of classic pop tunes. 

The album isn’t without its flaws, or without the odd cringe(y) moment. And it’s probably not the sort of work that will grab you instantly upon first listen, but Scatterbrain goes well beyond any expectation I had of Phillipps and The Chills in 2021, and it’s another worthy addition to the musical legacy of one of Aotearoa’s best and most durable artists.

Film Review: The Chills - The Triumph and Tragedy of Martin Phillipps

Craig Stephen watched The Chills: The Triumph and Tragedy of Martin Phillipps, in Wellington …

The first time we see Martin Phillipps, the one continuum of The Chills since its inception in 1980, is at a hospital in Dunedin, where he is being prodded, scanned and injected for a series of health tests. Phillipps has Hepatitis C, which he contracted by accident from a dirty needle (listen up kids: don’t do drugs) during his substance-hoovering days (of which there were many). 

The prognosis isn’t good. Phillipps’ liver is 80 percent defunct and he has a 31 percent chance of surviving beyond the next 6-9 months if he doesn’t go teetotal. The check-up takes place at the end of 2016 and we travel with him throughout his brave bid to free himself of the disease, and cleanse himself from the demon drink (listen up kids: don’t do booze, well not whisky on the rocks for breakfast anyway). 

While this conjures up images of a hellraiser, which aren’t exactly dispelled by the singer, we soon see a side of him that we may not have expected - the hoarder, with a huge collection of DVDs, records, CDs, books, artefacts, and toys. Yes, toys. Phillipps lives alone and his collecting obsession, he admits, is partially to compensate him for the isolated living situation. 

As part of the cathartic experience of trying to save his life, Phillipps embarks on a mission to rid himself of some of this collection. Among this extraordinarily vast collection - some of which is included in an exhibition in Dunedin - are mummified cats which he paints then sticks on boards before hanging on the wall. He has also kept a tray of decapitated eggshells which he has painted. 

Interspersed with this personal illumination on a somewhat eccentric character is the story of The Chills, undoubtedly one of New Zealand’s most influential bands. In four decades, The Chills have gone through 21 different line-ups and more than 30 members. In that sense alone they have an historical link to The Fall, led by another hard-drinking eccentric.

Phillipps hasn’t always treated his colleagues terribly well, and near the end of the documentary confesses to having failed some and apologises (if not effusively it has to be said) for not supporting them when he could. One such sad tale is that of the multi-talented Andrew Todd. The keyboardist bailed when it was clear he was getting neither the respect from his colleague nor job satisfaction from what he was doing with the band. Todd isn’t interviewed but many others are, including Terry Moore, who had three spells with the act, and one extremely unlikely member, Phil Kusabs who had a background in death metal acts before joining the “twee indie band”. 

We learn of the death of an early band member, Martyn Bull, who before he succumbed to leukaemia, gave Phillipps his prized leather jacket, leading to The Chills’ legendary ‘I Love My Leather Jacket’ single. There was a serious car collision with a truck on a small bridge, in which everyone remarkably survived, personality clashes, and debt. Phillipps comes across as personable and driven, but also possibly narcissistic. 

Director Julia Parnell also talks to former managers of the band, as well one of the few musical superstars from Aotearoa, Neil Finn, who offers rather little insight other than a few platitudes. 

Around 1990, The Chills were making inroads into America and the album Submarine Bells was a massive hit. But it soon fell apart, and Phillipps was back in Dunedin left to ponder once again another incarnation of the band. 

The fact that there have been numerous versions of the same band since, and The Chills recorded their finest effort for many years, Snow Bound, in 2018, speaks volumes for the toughness and commitment of Phillipps and the musicians who have stood by him. 

Near the end of the film Phillipps returns to see the same medic in the same hospital and is informed that there are now no signs of Hepatitis C. Onwards to the next Chills studio album. 

Book Review: In Love With These Times, My Life With Flying Nun Records, by Roger Shepherd

Published a few years back, In Love With These Times is Roger Shepherd’s memoir-come-history of the Flying Nun record label. It’s taken me an age to get around to reading and reviewing it. Never let it be said that everythingsgonegreen is anything other than current and relevant …

There’s a sense that Roger Shepherd is something of an accidental hero in the Flying Nun story. The notion that he founded the label - on the whiff of an oily rag - primarily to release the highly original music being made by local bands he was enjoying live, and regularly networking with as a record shop employee, makes for a wonderful backstory. It becomes quite clear he did so on little more than a whim, without much thought, forward planning, or finance. At the outset at least.

All of these things would come back to haunt Shepherd, and his label, at various junctures over the course of the next three decades. Yet, in many respects, it was Shepherd’s determination to trust his instinct, to embrace the DIY ethic, aligned with a fierce sense of independence, that came to define the label. It was precisely the same modus operandi employed by the many bands that eventually benefitted from his risk-taking. 

The Clean, The Chills, The Gordons, and the rest, would all have existed regardless, sure, but it seems doubtful anyone associated with the conservative major labels of early 1980s New Zealand would have had the vision to release their music. Shepherd grasped their (collective) appeal immediately and made sure the rest of the country - and eventually, more curious or enlightened individuals globally - would get to hear the music. 

Shepherd pays credit to the crucial roles played by the likes of Chris Knox and Doug Hood, among many others, along the way. He writes extensively about the label’s evolution, the rise, particularly through the fledgling years of the 1980s, the relocation to Auckland, the fall, the (forced) financial and artistic compromises, the post-millennium rebirth, plus his own travels, and his personal battles with addiction and mental health.

Shepherd writes passionately and candidly about all of that stuff. He’s a decent writer, an engaging and witty mine of information throughout. 

And while the guts of the Flying Nun story may have been told (elsewhere) before, it’s never been told with the same level of insight and colour as provided here by Shepherd. Just as you’d expect from the man with the most intimate insider knowledge of the label. And it’s this level of detail, the highs and lows associated with that, alongside the personal anecdotes and the frequent self-deprecating stories around his own journey as a man - as opposed to a reluctant businessman - that make In Love With These Times the definitive account. 

Recommended. 

Here's Shepherd’s own account of writing the book, as published by Audioculture:

https://www.audioculture.co.nz/scenes/writing-in-love-with-these-times

R.I.P. Peter Gutteridge

New Zealand music lost one of its very best this week, with the death of Flying Nun legend Peter Gutteridge (The Clean, The Chills, The Great Unwashed, Snapper, and others). Here’s one of his best moments:

 

List: Five More ‘Kiwi’ Desert Island Discs

More essential New Zealand albums of my lifetime:

The Gordons – The Gordons (1981)

John Halvorsen, Brent McLachlan, and Alister Parker are probably better known as key members of the band Bailter Space (aka Bailterspace), but long before Bailter Space enjoyed relative success as stalwarts of the New Zealand indie scene with a run of fine albums through the late Eighties and early Nineties, the same trio had earned their recording spurs as The Gordons. And while The Gordons turned out to be a rather short-lived affair – releasing just two albums and an EP – anyone lucky enough to see the band perform live surely won’t have forgotten the experience. In fact, their ears will still be ringing. Put simply, no other Kiwi band, before or since – The Skeptics being one possible exception – could replicate The Gordons’ unique sound, which was a heady combination of jagged feedback and guitar-led noise, with just the occasional hint of melody thrown in for good measure. That may not sound especially appealing to some, but somehow, on the band’s 1981 self-titled debut it all came together perfectly and The Gordons created a real humdinger of an album, a cohesive whole that greatly exceeded the sum of its otherwise jumbled parts.

Ak 79 – Various (1980/1993)

It may have taken a year or so longer to arrive on these tranquil shores, but the popular music phenomenon we know (and love) as ‘Punk Rock’ had well and truly taken hold in Godzone by 1979. Not just in Auckland, but in all of the main centres, all the way down to Dunedin. It’s a cliché now, but Punk really was all about adopting a fresh attitude and challenging polite society’s accepted norms, and wherever there was a relatively large population base you were bound to find a pocket of individuals taking great pride and delight in doing just that. Ak 79 is a compilation album that brings together many of the movement’s key protagonists in this part of the world – Toy Love, The Swingers, The Scavengers, and Proud Scum. An expanded edition was released in 1993 to include other era luminaries such as The Spelling Mistakes and The Suburban Reptiles. Ak 79 captures the spirit of its time perfectly, and is an absolute “must have” for any self respecting New Zealand music collector.

Flock (The Best of ...) – The Mutton Birds (1992)

I’m probably quite biased because two latter period band members were acquaintances of mine from the sprawling metropolis of Palmerston North (bassist Alan Gregg and guitarist Chris Sheehan) but ultimately the reason I was a big fan of The Mutton Birds was down to the band’s main man Don McGlashan (founder, composer, vocalist). McGlashan had a rare talent for writing quintessentially Kiwi songs ... songs about us, songs specific to our location, and music that spoke to our sense of what it means to be a New Zealander. He’d done exactly the same thing with Blam Blam Blam and The Front Lawn, but by the time The Mutton Birds came along he’d developed his art into a far more accessible form, which in turn catered rather more to the mainstream than either of those earlier projects. Oh, and it probably helped that his boy-next-door vocals contained the most charming nu zild accent ever committed to vinyl. 

Into The Dojo – Black Seeds (2006)

So often unfairly maligned by local music critics who toss around lazy labels like “UB40-lite” and “barbeque reggae”, the Black Seeds have nonetheless established a strong loyal fanbase – not only in hometown Wellington, but throughout the country and beyond – thanks to a run of consistently strong albums following on from their 2001 debut, Keep On Pushing. Into The Dojo was the band’s third full-length studio effort and for me it rates as their best – rootsy, earthy, packed full of decent tunes and warm summery vibes. Disregard the haters and the tall poppy bashers, Reggae/Dub as a genre has always had to fight hard for survival in this often insular corner of the planet, yet one listen to a track like ‘Love For Property’ ought to be enough to convince any doubters that Aotearoa’s dub contingent are on the right path ... or should that be the path to righteousness? In the case of the Black Seeds and specifically Into The Dojo, that path led to a double platinum number one and a whole year in the local album chart ... there must have been an awful lot of barbeques that particular year.

Heavenly Pop Hits – The Chills (1994)

I’m cheating here by including another compilation album but in all honesty, it just doesn’t feel right leaving a band as iconic as The Chills to sink without any fanfare ... and this is all about survival on a desert island after all – no matter how indulgent it might be attempting to salvage so many albums (ten and counting!). Just as it doesn’t feel right to single out any specific Chills album (and there are a few). Heavenly Pop Hits does however collect the very best of The Chills, from the band’s earliest days as a Flying Nun (label) original, right through to its on again/off again format of recent years ... essentially becoming more than ever the “solo” project of Martin Phillipps. While his voice wasn’t always to my taste – a little monotonous – there is no question he was a brilliant composer and songwriter. If there was a pop hook to be found amid the otherwise often gloomy sound, Phillipps would find it, build upon it, and ultimately create a song that not only appealed to post-punkers, but also the wider music-buying public. ‘Pink Frost’ gave Kiwi music its very own Joy Division moment, while ‘I Love My Leather Jacket’ has taken on a life of its own in the years since its release.