Showing posts with label The Clean. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Clean. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 12, 2018

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:

Saturday, September 20, 2014

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:



 

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Lost Alternative 80s: The Clean

May is New Zealand Music Month. Celebrated by some, condemned by others, ignored by the vast majority.

A marketing ruse. A worshipping of false gods. Something akin to the heralding of the world’s tallest pygmy.

Harsh? … perhaps, but it’s fair to say that with each passing year, beyond the music industry itself, more than a smattering of cynicism has started to creep in.

But it’s also about acknowledging some good things too … some very good things. For all of its flaws (of default and design), it does at least present us with an excuse to reflect on a body of work that was, for the most part, denied a pre-internet “rest of the world”.

On that note, one of my favourite Enzed bands of the 80s (and beyond), The Clean, embracing the lo-fi DIY ethic that made Flying Nun the “go to” label of the era … here’s ‘Anything Could Happen’ (from 1981).

What better way to conclude the Lost Alternative 80s series of posts.
 
 
 

 
 
 

Monday, July 16, 2012

Album Review: The Clean - Compilation (1987)

I probably should have done this as a token nod to New Zealand music month back in May, but I’ve been rediscovering one of the world’s great lost bands in The Clean, and after revisiting one of the band’s earliest compilations, I decided to have a quick rant about what has become a true Kiwi classic:  

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Short of going the whole hog and getting The Clean’s rather more extensive Anthology (2002) set, which compiles just over two decades worth of the band’s work, this album, the very aptly titled Compilation (The Clean are nothing if not straightforward) from 1987, offers as near perfect an overview of the band’s earliest (and arguably best) output as you’ll find anywhere. Er, that is if you can actually find a copy of this album anywhere (the Anthology album having stolen its initial thunder somewhat).

The Lo-Fi darlings of the “Dunedin Sound”, as championed by NZ independent label Flying Nun Records, The Clean – with the mainstays being the brothers Kilgour, David and Hamish – is now into its fourth decade as a going concern – albeit as an on-again off-again venture; a brief mutation into The Great Unwashed (see what they did there?) and the occasional “solo” project notwithstanding.


The content on Compilation consists mainly of the band’s much-coveted early singles plus the key tracks off its now near-mythical ‘Boodle Boodle Boodle’ EP, which provided The Clean with a hugely unlikely yet still relatively sustained commercial breakthrough in New Zealand. These are the tracks that helped establish the band’s reputation as a major influence on any number of today’s Indie contenders, and the most amazing thing about these songs is the fact that they were recorded using only the most basic of technology (I’m fairly certain they are all eight-track recordings, which is quite remarkable even by early Eighties standards).

Long-time advocates of the K.I.S.S. principle of music making (keep it simple stupid), whether that was deliberate, a necessity, or purely accidental, the band’s capacity for clever lyrics, jangly guitars, and dated whirly keyboards was a little at odds with everything else going on at the time – the Eighties being more about big production, nothing lyrics, and the application of high gloss to every last living thing! The Clean however stuck to its guns, kept faith with its own modus operandi, and has largely out-lasted the vast majority of its peers. Terrific stuff from one of the best “unknown” bands the world has never seen.

I really love the fact that my copy of this album is a grotty old bedsit-quality cassette tape, one that has been suitably thrashed over the years (purchased brand new upon release), as opposed to anything remotely flash or digital. I wouldn’t have it any other way, as it fits so well with the very ethos of The Clean and everything the band unwittingly represents.    

Best tracks (in order of preference): ‘Anything Could Happen’, ‘Point That Thing Somewhere Else’, ‘Beatnik’, the debut single ‘Tally Ho’, and ‘Getting Older’.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

List: Five ‘Kiwi’ Desert Island Discs

Essential New Zealand albums of my lifetime:

Luxury Length – Blam Blam Blam (1981)

The backdrop to this 1981 album was provided by the nationwide unrest and sheer turmoil of the ill-advised Springbok tour. The presence of Riot Police on our streets was a new development for our hitherto innocent and untainted land, and bands like The Blams and tour-mates The Newmatics captured those bleak days perfectly with their own unique brand of post-punk angst. The chart-crashing and ironic single ‘No Depression in NZ’ may have been the release that propelled Blam Blam Blam to the forefront of public consciousness, but their Luxury Length album confirmed their status as the leading social commentators of the day. Few potential targets were spared, as Don McGlashan and co raged against everything from the SIS to big business. And how relevant today, in the wake of David Bain’s release, are the lyrics contained within ‘Got To Be Guilty’ (written about the AA Thomas case) … “he’s gotta be guilty, there’s no point in changing the subject, we didn’t get where we are today, by being soft on an obvious reject” …

Futureproof - Pitch Black (1999)

The aptly-titled debut release (under the Pitch Black moniker at least) for the thereafter prolific duo Paddy Free and Mike Hodgson. Futureproof is a quite startling collection of dubby, moody, and occasionally dark electronic tracks, and not only did this release raise the bar for all local pretenders within the genre, it also convinced this observer that advances in technology had to a large extent levelled the playing field for Kiwi artists seeking to compete with the more established international acts dominating the local dance scene. A landmark work for New Zealand electronic music, and it’s hard to believe this album is already more than a decade old.

Tiny Blue Biosphere – Rhian Sheehan (2004)

Tiny Blue Biosphere is the classically-trained Rhian Sheehan’s second album, a follow-up to the similarly gorgeous Paradigm Shift, and like its predecessor it deals with other-worldly, occasionally other-galaxy, conundrums such as … What does it all mean? Sheehan’s horizons are broad, and he doesn’t confine his search for an answer to the mere finiteness of planet earth. Featuring clever use of samples, washes of warm synth, and gentle flowing waves of acoustic guitar, it might be said that Sheehan puts the “way over” into the “out there”. This is head music, but parts of it will also make you want to dance - or at the very least have you dancing on the inside. Tiny Blue Biosphere is the perfect synthetic space and time soundtrack to one of those lazy do nothing days after a hard night out clubbing. Adopt the crash position and simply enjoy.

Anthology – The Clean (2003)

Short of buying every single, EP, or album released by this seminal Flying Nun band, you’ll never be able to fully appreciate the complete evolution of the Dunedin Sound or the prolific label behind it unless you hear Anthology from start to finish. From their early Eighties Lo-Fi four-track origins to the gloss and polish of their new millennium output, The Clean were consistently brilliant every step of the way. Containing witty and wry observations on all facets of bed-sit living in the deepest darkest south and so much more, Anthology captures all of this truly unique band’s most precious moments in one sitting. Priceless.

True Colours – Split Enz (1980)

This album provided the soundtrack to my final year at high school, and it was one that did much to convince aspiring musicians across the land that New Zealand artists could compete commercially on the international stage. With the arrival of Neil Finn and the release of Frenzy a year earlier, Split Enz had abandoned their formative prog-rock excesses to introduce a far more palatable pop element to their zany theatrics. Yet it took the new wave sensibilities of True Colours and its three epic singles to elevate the band to the next level. Kiwi pop hadn’t sounded this good before, and Split Enz would never sound this good again. True Colours was the first sign that in Neil Finn, we had a potential pop genius on our hands.

More to follow …