New From NZ: Trust Punks, Kody Nielson, All Seeing Hand, Kane Strang

EVERETT TRUE returns to the M+N fold to take a crack at our semi-regular roundup of current Kiwi delights, from the huggable to the fuckable.

So. Long time, no? Your fair editors have asked me if I’d like to tackle a new column about music. One where I talk about the music, not myself. Radical idea, I thought to myself. Try and divorce music from the context I hear it within. Sure, I can do that. Although you ought to be warned that I approach this on three hours’ sleep, a lukewarm coffee and the prospect of a day out at Brisbane’s legendary misanthropy-inducing Ekka festival. OK. Sorry! I’m sorry! That’s enough about stuff you don’t want to know about. Let’s get onto the stuff you (presumably) do…

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The All Seeing Hand

From Wellington. Self-described as a turntable/drum/throat trio. The Bandcamp mentions “drums & turntables electronic experimental mono bass noise post punk throat singing Wellington,” so I wasn’t entirely prepared for the giant rumble of noise emanating from my tiny Logitech speakers, like something High on Fire might have prepared in close proximity with Olympia WA maverick Arrington de Dionyso, guerrilla utilised on street corners to scare away Hunger Games fans. This is a mighty swell! The – yes – throat singing adds layers of intensity and menace and WRONGNESS (like it always does), while modem receivers scramble frantically in the background.

Favourite song title: ‘Lying Dead, With a Bar of Soap’. Oh, very ‘Penny Lane’ (“He likes to keep his fire engine clean/It’s a clean machine”).

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Kody Nielson (Opossom, Mint Chicks)

I once described the Mint Chicks as “Nasty but mesmeric Kiwi psychedelic noise, full of sequenced vocals and over-saturated phlegms of noise: like Times New Viking fed back through a tape loop of Talk Talk B-sides. Everything is turned way too high, and that’s the way it should be.” That’s what I said then, and I see no reason to change my mind now. If this was a YouTube video, it would be sourced direct from the Internet Archive. If this was a viola it would have five strings and be wired into a Lalo Schifrin console. (There’s something very funky, very ’70s sleazy about Kody Nielson’s music.) Actually, this bewildering plethora (a smorgasbord, if you won’t) of found sound probably HAS been sourced direct from the Internet Archive: danceable and disorientating, like that mentalist turntablist Kid Koala, and eminently fucking huggable.

Favourite song title: ‘Hell Vs. T-Rex’.

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Kane Strang

From Dunedin. Mr Strang clearly loves the weird, heartfelt, esoteric pop of Chris Knox. That’s cool. I love fucking Chris Knox too. (Oh wait. The ‘fucking’ is in the wrong place.) So Mr Strang’s songs are all weird, heartfelt, esoteric pop that has the (more than) occasional nod towards that ‘difficult’ second Paul McCartney album and 1981 Dunedin. Sometimes this device is more effective than others. For example, the lilting chug of ‘My Smile is Extinct’. And (for example), ‘Love Letter for a Trend Setter’. He says, “pop a pebble and a paper crane dunedin folk kane strang Dunedin”. I say little more, for fear of incriminating myself … because it often feels like he’s trying a bit too hard to be Strang(e).

Favourite song title: ‘Loveboy Tied to the Train Tracks’. No reason.

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Trust Punks

From Auckland. They say ‘punk’ … which is an interesting use of the word, all cynicism aside, because this means that for the edgily named Trust Punks, punk begins at Year Zero (The Pin Group) and ends whatever year it was The Chills released ‘Pink Frost’. Of course, if ‘Karl Marx Real Doll’ was as good as either song, then my work would be done here and we could all go home happy for the year … but it’s still not damn bad, not damn bad at all. Contains pretty much all the elements that made Auckland – sorry, Dunedin – so cherished in the first place: blatant repetition, a fuckable guitar sound, occasional profanity and descending chord sequences, muddied up appropriately. The other song on their Bandcamp, ‘Amphetamine Psychosis’, is even better.

Favourite song title: ‘Karl Marx Real Doll’. Oh, very Bongwater.

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Street Chant

From Auckland. The Bandcamp mentions “alternative arch hill bish free jungle new zealand noise punk rock pop Auckland.” Yeah, I guess. Personally, I would’ve typed something like “alternative arch nme college boy killers new Zealand punk pop alt-j pop directionless whiny boy-boy alternative retro flannel cod reggae bouncy-bouncy please canni stoplist enin gnow”… but each to their own. Is everyone really talking about World War III, as these chirpy lads youths suggest on the unfathomably recorded ‘There is No Depression in New Zealand’?

Favourite song title: ‘Tear My Whole Face Off’.

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Civil Union

From Auckland. Oh, dreadful. A doomy shroud of doomy-gloom doom surrounds the atonal squalling doomy-gloom sound of Civil Union – it’s like yr high school teacher scraping virtual fingernails down a virtual blackboard of doom-gloom – and if this makes Civil Union sound in any way interesting then I apologise. Man. The album cover shows a deserted shopping trolley outside a flooded outlet, both of which seem infinitely more attractive than having to ever hear this squalling mess of doomy-gloom doom ‘shroom again. They say, “punk reggae Auckland.” Lying bastards.

Favourite song title: ‘Waxed Shroud’.

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The Moonrakers

Is it just me? Am I becoming tired of music towards writing the end of this column, or has everything turned to shit? I mean, The Moonrakers are great if you enjoy listening to bands rehearse when half the members are stoned and railing against the injustice of the local bussing system and the other half are trying their damnedest to drown the whining fuckers out … but. There again (the writer shrugs, and tries to see the bright side of everything), the splendidly titled ‘Inferior Television/Superior Television’ sounds like that bonus Subway Sect track at the end of The Slits’ second (‘bootleg’) album – you know, the one without a title or cover – and, fuck, I love that bonus Subway Sect track at the end of The Slits’ second album. A righteous TORRENT of noise. They say, “rock garage rock new zealand rock rock and roll seafoam the moonrakers New Zealand.” I say, FUCK YEAH TURN UP THE MOTHERFUCKING VOLUME YOU MOTHERFUCKING MOONRAKERS. Particularly awesome is the stream-of-consciousness noise/rant ‘Pomegranate Sorbet’.

Favourite song title: ‘(She’s Got) Power Thighs’.

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Cheats

From Auckland. They say, “pop bedroom pop lobster rock tto Auckland.” I almost don’t want to listen further because … well, there might be a B-52’s semi-reference in there but you just know Cheats are going to sound like one of those oblique stop-start-change-rhythm bands from the UK circa 1990 (c.f. The Cardiacs), mixed in with a little of whatever they see the heritage of Dunedin to truly be (the harmonies of a stoned McCartney, probably). On top of that … have I mentioned the possibility of wilful eccentricity yet? So I have a listen, and guess what? Yep. Rock anaemia, like Malkmus with the pop beaten out of him.

Favourite song title: ‘Wet Cigarette’.

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