Planet Key Part 462

Just when you thought it was safe to get back into the water … there’s this, the Electoral Commission deciding to waste more time and more money appealing last month’s High Court ruling on Planet Key (see here).

 

MEDIA RELEASE Monday 4 May, 2015

'PLANET KEY' ARTISTS PROTEST APPEAL

Wellington musician Darren Watson has re-released his controversial 'Planet Key' single on iTunes and at amplifier.co.nz. The songwriter made this decision after hearing that the Electoral Commission intends to appeal the recent landmark High Court ruling in favour of Watson and video maker Jeremy Jones.

The Commission has said the “appeal is limited to questions of law” and it was “not seeking to challenge the findings in the [Planet Key] decision as they applied to the particular facts in that case.” However, Watson and Jones say that if any part of the ruling is overturned the effect on their work, and potentially for all other artists in New Zealand, will be to essentially silence political comment.

All royalties from Planet Key sales from May 4th will go to the Red Cross' Nepal earthquake appeal fund.

“The more folks buy it the more we can hopefully send a message that freedom of expression always prevails when it comes to an individual's comments, songs, writing, and actually all kinds of art” says Watson, “it's ridiculous that we STILL have to fight for this!”

The single is available here.

The Electoral Commission says there is an inconsistency between the ruling of Justice Mander in the Electoral Commission vs Greenpeace last year and Justice Clifford's decision in the Planet Key case.

Jeremy Jones says the cases are completely different. “I reckon it's common sense that the Greenpeace ruling re: 'advertisements' can still apply to political groups and the like … we're just a person who made a song, and a person who made a music video. We're not a political 'third party'.”

Jones has made the music video available to watch again from his Vimeo page, http://vimeo.com/102441715 but he hopes people will also buy the single to support both earthquake recovery and the principle of artistic freedom in New Zealand.

All paid downloads count toward the song's chart position. When Watson pulled Planet Key from sale in August to avoid potential prosecution it had reached #5 in the Official NZ Top 20 in a little over two weeks with almost no commercial airplay.

Release Ends

And so it turns out that there’s always some things in life destined to end badly (love being one certainty, and arguing with blinkered bureaucrats often being another). When one side becomes so entrenched in its position you just know it’s going to drag on until they’ve squeezed the life out of it. When one side refuses to let go and becomes blind to the overwhelming weight of facts in the matter. Even when every man and every last rabid canine in the world can see the bloody obvious …

Well done Watson and Jones. Not only can they see the big picture and what’s really at stake here in terms of artistic freedom, they’re happily donating sales proceeds to the Red Cross Nepal appeal at a time when further publicity will surely only enhance sales of a single they’ve already made a not insignificant loss on. Full respect.

Subbass and More Dub ...

Continuing on the path of dub righteousness (ahem), here’s another free or name-your-price digital download album featuring more state-of-the-art global electro dub flavours. Brand new from the Germany-based net label Subbass, More Dub collects 16 tracks from like-minded artists across the globe, to present a truly international set of electronic, dub, ethnostep, and world music tunes.

Well worth a donation, and of a consistently high standard throughout, the best stuff here comes from Dub Size, Hi Towa, Illegal State of Mind, Ben I Sabbah, and SPCZ. Check it out on the Subbass Bandcamp page (here), and if you like this, have a listen to the Ethnostep series of albums on the same label from a few years back, volumes 1 to 5.

 

Guest Post: The Definition of Soul

Methven-based artist and musician Pania Brown went to the recent Paolo Nutini gig at the Powerstation in Auckland (April 6, 2015). I asked her in advance if she’d like to jot down a few words about it, but evidently there were no words to describe how much she enjoyed it. Until now. Weeks later, she’s finally calm and composed enough to share what turned out to be a procession of quite grubby thoughts …

I’ll just get one thing out of the way, so we can move on. Paolo Nutini is ridiculously good looking, and I don’t think anyone, anywhere, would disagree. Certainly not the loud Scottish man last night at The Powerstation in Auckland who shouts out words to that effect. I already knew it before seeing Nutini live, and I admit it may have swayed me to listen a little more intensely when I first became a fan (so sue me I’m shallow).

 

But you have to know you’re hot when not one, but two male Scottish voices yell out “Paolo, you’re really good looking”, and later, another “take your shirt off”. At least he has the decency to not take his shirt off (damn!), smile sheepishly, and just roll into another song.

For the record, there were just as many blokes in the audience last night as there were women. But maybe not in the front row. And maybe, only because they were there with their girlfriends? I almost felt bad for him up there trying to get the masses to listen to his music, and I wondered if his looks do more to distract, but then I thought ‘fuck it’ and just enjoyed the fact that the music was great, his voice was sublime, and it all came in an incredibly aesthetically pleasing to the eye package. Tick tick tick!

Before going to Auckland for the concert I was on the phone to a friend who didn’t know who Paolo Nutini was and asked me what kind of music he does? I hate to pigeonhole music (#pop #acoustic #folk #spacejazzacidblendhouse #bullshit), so I ended up saying soul/blues/rock and left out the innocuous sounding “pop” which seems so insulting. Then I got to thinking that I left out “funk” and how hard it is to label a Scottish soul singer/songwriter of Italian descent, and how hard it is to categorise Nutini. I was surprised initially to hear he was headlining the recent Byron Bay Bluesfest, and I remember thinking, is he “The Blues?” …

And again, it’s hard to label certain music, and why do we try when it’s easier to just enjoy?

Paolo Nutini’s name makes him sound more like an Italian footballer than a singer. He was born in Paisley, Scotland, to a father of Italian descent who ran a fish and chip shop and a Scottish mother. Somewhere in that mix he got great looks, a voice which is as gravelly as a well-trodden road, and soul in spades.

Where does this mysterious “soul” come from? Not just from the southern states of America, and not from the colour of your skin, although anyone who sings like this has no doubt listened to the likes of Sam Cooke, Al Green, or Aretha Franklin somewhere along the way.

Turns out soul comes “from within”. And as Nutini says, his songs come “all from observation”. That’s soul enough for me. For what it’s worth, here’s what a Google search says about soul:- “emotional or intellectual energy or intensity, especially as revealed in a work of art or an artistic performance”. So there.

“Scottish soul” however might seem to some to be a contradiction in terms, but if you ask the Internet for a list of names you’ll come up with Annie Lennox, or Emeli Sande, or a list of older vocalists, none of whom I’ve even heard of. I always thought the term “Northern Soul” referred to the working classes of England but it seems it seeped over the border to Scotland (or vice versa?). Basically you can be a soul singer if you’ve been there, done that, survived so far, even if scarred for life and you sing like you mean it. Paolo Nutini’s a soul singer.

 

 

Nutini can’t dance he tells us (and it’s true). He moves around the stage and the 9-piece band (especially the horn section), do all the dancing you really need. He’s softly spoken, and that, combined with his thick Scottish accent, makes it difficult to understand him when he’s chatting to the audience – unless you are in the front row (which I’m not). I do catch that his mother’s in the audience as he dedicates a song to her (‘Cherry Blossom’?), and that he went swimming today and swam into the end of the pool (“don’t smoke before you go swimming!”). This comment elicits much guffawing from the smokers in the audience (and those young kids who have no idea what everyone’s laughing about but are desperate to fit in). It is well known that Nutini likes the marijuana, and is open about smoking it “every day since 16”.

The set comprises of the old and the new. He plays interesting and enjoyable versions off his latest UK No. 1 album Caustic Love, and then very different and sometimes shortened and mixed up versions off the previous two albums, These Streets, and Sunny Side Up. It works for me, although too many slower songs mid-set make the evening drag slightly. I love the groove of ‘New Shoes’ and ‘Scream’ and want more of that, although his voice is better when more isolated.

Many people go to gigs and are disappointed when the songs don’t sound exactly like the recorded versions, but I’m the opposite. I like it when they are delivered in another way, and god knows it must make it more enjoyable for the artist to play around with the originals. Nutini obviously enjoys himself, and immerses himself in the music and boy can he sing!

My favourites have always been ‘Candy’ off These Streets, and ‘Iron Sky’ from Caustic Love, and I am not let down by either. The highlight would be ‘Scream’ at the beginning of the gig … an amazingly funky song which even has the boyfriends jiggling around awkwardly on the spot, vying for attention (good luck with that!).

The concert lasts two hours. The encore is polished and well rehearsed, if a bit mellow. It strikes me what an amazingly well behaved crowd Kiwis are (not that everyone here is Kiwi). We clap when expected. We politely call out songs and comments when you should. One guy politely throws a shoe very carefully to (not at) Nutini during ‘New Shoes’ and it is politely thrown back later. We stomp and clap for the encore and are rewarded. We leave politely, and all in all it’s a good old night out. I remain stunned by the depth of his vocals at the end of the day.

Set List:

Bus Talk (interlude)
Scream
Let Me Down Easy
Coming Up Easy
Alloway Grove
Jenny Don’t Be Hasty/New Shoes
Looking For Something
Better Man
These Streets
Diana
One Day
Cherry Blossom
Pencil Full Of Lead
No Other Way
Iron Sky
Tricks Of The Trade
Time To Pretend
Candy
Someone Like You
Last Request

On the way to catch the plane back home (to Methven) the following morning, I had the pleasure of a conversation with an older couple from Manchester who now live in North Wales and had been travelling around New Zealand as part of a cruise. They were heading home. I mentioned I had been to Paolo Nutini and it turns out their son Benjamin Thomas Taylor (you can look him up, his artworks are on the Web), painted the amazing picture of Paolo on the cover of his latest album Caustic Love. Yes it’s a small world.

Yes I am practically best friends with Paolo now, yes we are going for a beer later and I’m going to stare to the point of creepiness …

All words and pictures by Pania Brown.

Pania’s previous contribution to everythingsgonegreen can be found here.

Incidentally, there have been no reported public sightings of Paolo Nutini since his Auckland appearance, and I personally refuse to believe reports from Pania's neighbours that extensive DIY renovations are ongoing in the vicinity of Pania's basement.

 

Head Like A Hole

A few weeks ago I got to meet and chat with a couple of guys who might otherwise be described as Kiwi Rock Legends – Booga Beazley and Nigel Regan from renowned Wellington band Head Like A Hole, Aotearoa’s finest purveyors of that glorious genre we know and love as Stench Rock.

The Head Like A Hole story is a wonderfully chaotic tale; friends form band, band establishes a huge cult following, band travels overseas, band becomes consumed by the whole sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll ethos, band self-destructs, band stops being a band for almost a decade, band reforms, band’s comeback album goes top ten, band follows up with 2015 album Narcocorrido (“drug ballad”), and then, what must surely be a career highlight: band – or two original members thereof – get to meet me!

As you can imagine, I had quite a lot of source material to work with, but my chat with vocalist Beazley and guitarist Regan barely skimmed the surface, and I’m quite sure there’s a thrilling book just waiting to be written about the exploits of Head Like A Hole. In the meantime, you can read my words over at NZ Musician (here).

One of the things we discussed was Head Like A Hole’s relationship with cover versions. Beazley even suggested a HLAH covers album is a distinct possibility in the future. Here’s one of their best covers (originally by The Clean), a perfect way to kick-start New Zealand Music Month:

 

 

Original Dub Gathering and Free Stuff ...

Here’s something from the “grab free” aisle … a couple of easily digestible items of scrummy dubby goodness, by way of France and the ODG label.

First up, a short seven-track compilation, ‘Dub vs Wild’ … a collection of electro dub tunes from artists who appeared at a recent label promo gig at Transbordeur in Lyon. It’s just a snapshot of a moment in time, but it works as a nice sampler of what ODG currently has to offer (click here).

Secondly, long-time everythingsgonegreen favourite, Panda Dub – who also features on the above – has released a follow-up album to 2013’s Psychotic Symphony called The Lost Ship.

 

I plan to write a full review of The Lost Ship just as soon as I've spent some time alone with it, but for now let's just say it features way more bass-heavy slabs of ethno-electro-dub than anybody has any right to expect in one sitting. Yet again Panda delivers free to your inbox (click here).

I Got Your Office Right Here ...

Fresh from winning his legal argument against the Electoral Commission’s attempt to ban the broadcast of ‘Planet Key’, Darren Watson is back with a brand new single.

‘I Got Your Office Right Here’ was released yesterday, and while the new tune’s satirical bent might not be as immediately obvious this time out, the unrepentant Wellington bluesman sticks to the same tried and trusted political themes. And why wouldn’t he?

In addition to providing the requisite vehicle for Watson’s balls-out music, the latest up-to-the-minute and on point video clip (below) takes a wry look at the dodgy DIY skills, the bizarre hair-pulling fetish, and the creepy handshake awkwardness of a certain smarmy Prime Minister. Er, allegedly.

Check the clip, have a listen, and grab a copy of ‘I Got Your Office Right Here’ from Watson’s bandcamp page (here).

(Oh, and somehow, for reasons perhaps best kept to Watson himself, at the end of the clip there’s a nice GCSB-baiting credit offered to a certain blogger residing not a million miles from the page you’re currently on … infamy, infamy, they’ve all got it in for me).

 

 

 

 

Album Review: Mel Parsons - Drylands (2015)

Given that she's a two-time Tui Award nominee, a member of high profile Kiwi "supergroup" Fly My Pretties, and a regular touring act in this part of the world, it might seem a little odd that local songbird Mel Parsons would turn to Kickstarter to help launch her third solo release.

But I guess that's more of a comment on the changing nature of our music industry – or the "independent" music industry – in New Zealand in 2015, than it is a reflection on Parsons' standing within it. The pros, cons, and foibles of self-releasing and crowd-funding albums is perhaps a topic for another more in-depth blogpost on another day. Suffice to say I got involved, I pledged on Parsons' behalf, and last week I was the lucky recipient of an advance/signed CD copy (and a download) of Drylands.

There's something distinctly down-to-earth about the music of Mel Parsons. It’s probably her West Coast upbringing that allows the 30-something singer-songwriter to cut through the crap, and to stay on the outer periphery of trends and scenes. To remain faithful to what has served her so well in the past – her very own blend of alt-country and folk.

It’s also clear that Parsons understands that beauty can often be found in simplicity. Because there’s nothing overly complex in the music found on Drylands. Which might be interpreted as a barb if she didn’t appear to be such a prolifically-talented perfectionist. Yes, Parsons keeps it simple, and in many ways her music is a throwback to a far less complicated age, but that’s not to say it doesn’t have a unique 21st century spin, and its execution is flawless right across the album’s 13-track, 52-minute duration. The real strength of Drylands rests with its lyrical content, and thankfully, great songwriting will never be out of fashion.

The folk and country elements that make up the bulk of the album are not particularly unique to New Zealand either; Parsons has toured extensively across North America and those influences shine through. There is such a strong Americana presence (on tracks like ‘Alberta Sun’ and ‘Driving Man’, just for starters), any newcomer to her music would be forgiven for thinking she grew up in a remote location on that vast continent, rather than one of the remotest on a small island at the bottom of the South Pacific.

But the wide variety of instrumentation on offer – acoustic forms, cello, slide etc – ultimately means it also feels wrong to try to pigeonhole this music. Calling it country, or folk, fails to acknowledge the rock moments, or some of the Celtic flavours, or its wider pop accessibility.

Aside from the clever wordsmithery, the star turn here is Parsons’ voice, which is at its best when taking on a slightly rough-around-the-edges or lived-in hue, over the less ragged, more pure vocal she’s also capable of achieving.

Produced by Lee Prebble at Wellington’s Surgery, Drylands was officially released on April 10. You can pick up a copy from the Mel Parsons Bandcamp page (here). Parsons is also touring across New Zealand throughout April and May in support of the release, so look out for her at a town near you soon.

Highlights: ‘Alberta Sun’, ‘Non Communicado’, ‘Don’t Wait’ (which features Ron Sexsmith), ‘Get Out Alive’, and ‘Down So Long’.

A Labour of Love

I posted a link on my Facebook page earlier this week that generated quite a lengthy thread. The link was this blogpost from Michele Catalano (click here) over at medium.com which looked at the lost art of the mixtape. The post generated plenty of comment, and no little amount of collective nostalgia, proving it was a subject near and dear to the hearts of people of a certain generation.

Catalano completely nails what it was that made a mixtape something special, and offers some food for thought on how a lot of the love has been lost with the throwaway nature of the way we consume and share music today.

Let’s be clear, by “mixtape”, we’re talking about collections of tracks or songs compiled from vinyl to actual cassette tape. Or in later years, those recorded from CD to cassette tape, rather than any of the more recent definitions of the word. It’s interesting too, that much of the “art” itself was lost during that very transition between vinyl and CD. 

Funkin' Marvellous (1987)

But mixtapes were never just random sets of songs transferred from one medium to another. A quality mixtape had to have a theme or a specific person in mind (usually the recipient). They had to include songs/tracks from a variety of source material. Across a 90 minute time-span – with a C90 always preferable to a C60 – you couldn’t include more than a “couple” of tunes (at most) from the same artist. The title of the mix had to be specific and relevant, and preferably the cover or inlay had to be handwritten by the compiler.

Most of all, a great mixtape had to be made with love and care; be painstakingly compiled and crafted, not clinically thrown together like we tend to do with mp3 or wav file playlists today.

These were just a few of the basics, and not rules unique only to everythingsgonegreen. These things were more or less unwritten but widely accepted prerequisites when it came to the now lost art of making a mixtape.

I made dozens of mixtapes through the course of the mid-Eighties to mid-Nineties. I’d buy boxes of TDK or Sony cassette tapes in bulk, and I loved the sense of anticipation involved in opening a new box, and removing the cellophane from the first hitherto virginal untouched tape. It was something of a ritual.

Some tapes were made for purely selfish reasons – often taping music from the collections of friends or flatmates simply to “acquire it” – but mostly I made tapes as gifts for friends and acquaintances of the era. Because I loved the music and genuinely wanted to share it, or as with a few cases, because I wanted to be “the guy” who shared it. Sometimes I just needed an excuse to pass on my “message” – whatever that message may have been on any given day or week. Ahem.

 

A Festive Compromise (1988)

So Catalano’s post was inspirational and as the Facebook thread evolved and started to take on a life of its own I was able to share a few photos of mixtapes made for me by a few of the friends involved (in the discussion), and they were able to share photos of long-since-forgotten-about tapes I’d made for them.

One particularly astute commenter, no stranger to compiling mixes himself, made the point that “the perfect mixtape is always just out of reach. There’s always at least one track that doesn’t quite work, or another that would be better” and how we were always “limited by what records we owned or could scrounge from friends.” Quite something, coming from a guy who owns more than 3,000 records.

As the owner of several boxes full of cassette tapes, many of them being those of the home-produced variety, I also understand the significance of the mixtape as a time-marker. Or the idea that each tape works as a standalone reminder of the period during which it was made. Each tape being representative of something, be it a genre, a place, a friend, or a lost love. Each has a short story behind it, and works as a memorial for days we’ll never get back again. A snapshot of a brief moment in time. And I like that.

*Funkin' Marvellous (September 1987, mixed): This was compiled and created in the DJ booth at Clares Nightclub one afternoon in 1987 by my (then) best friend, who also happened to be the resident DJ at that club. This is a good mix of funk and pop, with a hint of nascent hip hop and house music flavours. The value of 12-inch extended dance mixes is aptly demonstrated on this one, near the end – during the fade for the wonderful State of Grace tune – when DJ turns MC briefly to apologise for a messy transition: he’d been disturbed and the record played out longer than was ideal … a nice personal touch that always made me smile when I heard it.

*A Festive Compromise (December 1988, unmixed): This was compiled and created by yours truly in the lounge of my Hataitai (Wellington) flat during the week between Christmas and New Year in 1988. My partner/flatmate of the era was a design student who had returned “home” to Auckland to spend the festive season with family. I worked in hospitality and time off at New Year was nigh impossible. Thus, I was stuck at home and perhaps feeling a little dark (you think? – Ed). I partly raided the record collection of our other flatmate – who was also (rather more mysteriously) absent – to create what would later become one of my all-time favourite road-trip tapes. The title, of course, references a lyric from the Cure track featured.

 

Speaking of ...

 

Classic Album Review: The Police - Reggatta de Blanc (1979)

I once owned a copy of each of the first six singles released by The Police; each one was a seven-inch blue vinyl pressing, complete with the original picture sleeve. Purchased as a set sometime in the (UK) summer of 1980, the conveniently packaged limited edition “six pack” has since, somehow, somewhere, contrived to go awol. On a journey involving more than a decade’s worth of impromptu house guests, several broken relationships, and more grotty bedsits than I care to recall, the entire set was evidently deemed surplus to requirements at one stage or another. Inadvertently abandoned by yours truly, or perhaps sleekitly acquired by a casual acquaintance, I wonder whether someone equally as passionate about the band’s early work has been the beneficiary of a “lucky find” somewhere along the way?

Whatever, I’m no longer the proud owner of that precious vinyl set, and it was only recently I felt compelled to splash out on some sort of token replacement in the form of this album, 1979’s Reggatta de Blanc.

This was the second full-length offering from The Police, and it immediately preceded the release of the six pack – which contained the three singles on here (‘Message In A Bottle’, ‘Walking On The Moon’, ‘The Bed’s Too Big’) and three from the band’s debut, Outlandos D’Amour (‘Roxanne’, ‘Can’t Stand Losing You’, and ‘So Lonely’).

Reggatta was a big improvement on the band’s raw debut outing, a far more polished effort, and it stands out as the landmark work ahead of the band’s more commercial Synchronicity (post-1983) period. This album offers a snapshot of the band on its way up, and the success of its first two chart-topping singles (‘Message’ and ‘Walking’) had helped to expose the band to a much wider audience.



The Six Pack

It also finds the three-piece Police somewhere close to a collective peak; the still hungry and ambitious Sting reserving his best vocal delivery for the album’s slower moments, while Andy Summers’ unique guitar craft and Stewart Copeland’s virtuoso drumming and percussion supplement perfectly the egocentric vocalist’s (still occasionally rudimentary) bass-playing.

The result is an album awash with offbeat rhythms, tight white reggae, and plenty of stirring and quirky lyrical twists, which more than make up for the odd corny moment and a somewhat uneven track-listing.

The dense and brooding ‘Bring On The Night’ rivals opener ‘Message In A Bottle’ as the best track on the album, and by extension, one of the very best things The Police ever did, while the skanky ‘Bed’s Too Big Without You’ is another one right out of the top drawer.

 

I’m not so keen on the more uptempo tracks, Sting’s vocal often being reduced to a fuzz, and almost paradoxically Summers’ guitar work somehow feels compromised and far less effective on the more rock-orientated numbers. Ditto the tracks credited to Stewart Copeland. Although, Copeland’s ability as a drummer – as one of the very best on the planet – easily offsets any shortcomings he may have had as a fledgling composer.

 

Mine was but a brief flirtation with The Police, but right down to my slightly scruffy soft-cover US-import CD copy of the album, the punky-reggae influences apparent on Reggatta de Blanc capture the essence of that short-lived affair exquisitely.

I was never overly impressed by Synchronicity, or indeed by the two albums that preceded it – Zenyatta Mondatta (1980) and Ghost In The Machine (1981) – and it’s difficult not to feel that The Police’s brief spell of global dominance also tended to rob the band of the mercurial charm that made it so unique and appealing in the first instance.

After the release of ‘Every Breath You Take’ had transported The Police into an entirely different stratosphere commercially, the writing was on the wall, and by the mid-Eighties an increasingly irritating Sting was in the process of launching a solo career that would take him into the netherworlds of folk and world music … and the band, mercifully, was no more. For the time being at least.

The Triumphant Return of Planet Key

It’s only taken eight months but finally we have a ruling on Planet Key. I’ve written a little bit on the background to that here and here. Out yesterday, the judgment strikes a firm blow for all who believe in freedom of artistic expression ... this from the press release:

The High Court has today delivered its judgment on the challenge brought by the makers of the satirical song and video “Planet Key” against the Electoral Commission’s opinion that the song and video were "election advertisements" under the Electoral Act and "election programmes" under the Broadcasting Act.

In a 76-page judgment, Justice Denis Clifford ruled comprehensively in favour of Watson and Jones. Significantly, he held that the Electoral Commission’s interpretation of the legislation “would impose limits on the right of freedom of expression of the plaintiffs and New Zealand citizens more generally in a manner which… cannot be demonstrably justified in a free and democratic society.”

Darren Watson and Jeremy Jones say they are delighted with the ruling, saying that it vindicates completely their sense of grievance about Commission’s advice that Planet Key could not be lawfully broadcast, sold through i-Tunes, or posted on the internet.

Watson and Jones’ lawyers say that the case upholds freedom of speech and protects the rights of artists to express their personal political views.

This is great stuff, and well done to Watson and Jones for what can only be described as an overwhelming vindication of their position … and well done to all of the legal beagles involved in getting the right outcome.

So, go and grab a celebratory name-your-price download of ‘Planet Key’ from Darren Watson’s Bandcamp page here.