Reviews

Gods and Heroes - 20 February, BATS

Daz — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 20:00:00 GMT

The Greek gods have fled Olympus, deciding to take refuge in... Mount Victoria of all places.

That’s the premise for this latest work of un-orchestrated madness provided by the Wellington Improv Troupe.

And as is typical of Improv at this level, there are moments of spontaneous mini-genius and clever humour, along with large patches of “Jesus, it’s making me uncomfortable just watching this.”

To give our not-so-humble divinities something to work with, suggestions are taken from the crowd on 3 topics for the storytelling to be based around. The 3 were well chosen, with Newton, Twitter and naked bicycling (You need to keep up with the news if you don’t get that one) becoming our primary agenda for the night.

From the beginning, it was clear who would be the chief sources of humour. Zeus, played by Geoff Simmons, was a hit from the get-go. His portrayal of the greatest of gods was 3 parts noble-majesty and 4 parts sly-lothario. He stalked the stage, casting imperious glances at the audience and providing epic speeches, all the while maintaining a twinkle in his eye, and working some good chemistry with his missus, Hera, aka Karen Anslow.

The other standout was that most famous of heroes, Heracles, played by Simon Smith. He embraced the role with a fervour and quick wit that Hercules (If he was real) would likely never possess. Manly handshakes, trips to the zoo, and funniest of all, aeroplanes (“How do they fly??!), all combined for a good night at the office for our mightiest hero.

Unfortunately some of the other gods found themselves in lacklustre situations, or struggled to make any impression or connection with their chosen deity. A sense of abandonment and over-the-topness is required for improve work, and if you haven’t made a suitable impression in the first few minutes, it’s highly unlikely that you ever will.

All up, it was an enjoyably spent hour, providing more entertainment than an equally priced, mainstream American comedy at the movies.

-Darren

Little Bushman live with the NZSO - 23 February, Album Review

Daz — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 19:00:00 GMT

I remember the first time I saw Warren Maxwell live. He was playing an in-store gig at Real Groovy, with then unknown band, Trinity Roots. Warren spent the gig shifting between heart-felt soul-man and grinning, affable jester. At one point a young boy walked up to the goateed singer with a quizzical look on his face - to which Maxwell swiftly responded “Got twenty bucks bro?” It was a small thing, but one which signalled Warren’s complete and utter, relaxed nature as a stage man.

And it’s no surprise that his persona comes through crystal clear on this album. From his “Kia-ora Wellies” in the first few seconds, through to the close of Peaceful man, Warren sounds like a guy genuinely chuffed to be making music in New Zealand.

Crystal-clear pretty much sums up the best aspects of this live release. Warrens Vocals, his quartets playing, the weighty influence of our national symphony orchestra, and just as importantly, the albums production values, all hit the bullseye. The clarity of this release is a big plus. It’s a case of almost no muddiness, drop-outs, or just plain bad crap. Nice one.

The gig itself was perhaps the most likely to work, out of that flood of “modern-meets-classical” performances that became popular during the late 2000’s. The fact that both parties have an epic-type sound likely contributed to this.

The Bushman repertoire is deftly explored, mostly focusing on the group’s first (And far superior) album. Where we got born, about as patriotic a kiwi song as the previous Trinity Roots anthem, land of earth and sea, gets the crowd good and fired up. The woodwind, string and brass sections work things up beautifully, building to Maxwell’s cry, “That’s where their bed’s got made,” riding a wave of euphoria from the combination of Bushman-blues and NZSO power.

Other highlights include Jimi, about as joyous a tribute to Mr Hendrix as you are likely to get, and Little Bird, once again scoring highly with a sublime build-up from the orchestra.

This is likely to be a limited release, so I’d snap up a copy quick – it would be a real shame to miss out. Still makes you a little sad if you weren’t at the gig though (Like me).

-Darren

Connan Mockasin: Please turn me into the Snat - 23 February, Album Review

Daz — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 21:41:00 GMT

It’s been an 18 month journey for the man known as Connan. Please turn me into the Snat shifted its creation between East Sussex, London, and a haunted house somewhere right here in Wellington. The hype machine slowly but surely cranked into life, and has been working at full steam leading into its release on the 22nd of Feb.

So what to make of this, most eagerly awaited NZ indie album, and debut from a musician, who is as enigmatic as he is so obviously talented?

Is it as dreamy and surreal as you would have expected? You’re damn right it is. It’s a litany of self contained dream sequences, one after the other, all fighting any sense of reality that tries to muscle its way into this weirdo-state of semi-consciousness.

And it’s definitely not a love-at-first-sight kind of album either. My initial listen was a fairly tempestuous one. I kept on waiting for that sense of magic that comes through in Connan’s live performances to appear. It didn’t, no matter how hard I tried to will it into submission.

But then I listened again and again... and somewhere around that third listen, things began to click. I started to see that blond haired, elfin faced figure, eyes closed, conjuring up something fantastical on-stage.

The first two tracks set the tone perfectly. From Magumi the Milky Way’s welcome of “hullo Connan”, you know that you’re in for a trip – sans the LSD. Magumi works its optimistic, poppy tones with a ratatat-punch, but Choade my dear slows the yellow submarine right down to comatose-speed. It’s a strangely elegant song, with Connan’s quirky, helium filled voice, enticing some unknown to “please, take it off.”

The guitar work on the majority of the album is very fine indeed, and a heady heartbeat flows from the drumming (Sounding strangely conventional in comparison to its surrounds), most prolific on closer and title-song – Please turn me into the Snat.

There is no getting around it though – this is very different music from almost anything else you’ve heard. Or is it? Elements of Zappa and Piper at the Gates of Dawn-era Floyd can be heard in much of the sound. But the mere fact that Connan is trying something different than anything else going around today, means he is somewhat deserving of the hype behind his name.

It’s going to be interesting to see how this sound evolves, if it hasn’t already... in Connans mind.

-Darren

Anne Frank: A History for Today – 20 February, Te Papa

Kaz — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 06:38:00 GMT

The tale of Anne Frank has always fascinated me, ever since I read her diary as an impressionable twelve year-old girl. I think it was her courage as she depicted to minute detail her family’s struggle during World War II. After seeing the exhibition at Te Papa today I can confirm that the fascination still exists... but perhaps has evolved to adoration...

In short, Anne Frank was a Jewish girl who was a victim of the holocaust. Trapped by the German occupation of the Netherlands, the Frank family went into hiding for two years before being betrayed to the ***. Unfortunately, Anne died from typhus in 1945, but her father survived and published the diary Anne had kept during their years in hiding.

The exhibition gives the history of World War II and the Holocaust through Anne's published diary. It charts the history of her family in the context of events starting with the end of World War I, the rise of Nazism and World War II. The exhibition contains family photographs and extracts from Anne’s diary, as well as a thirty-minute documentary that details New Zealanders who survived the holocaust.

The exhibition runs till 24 March at the Te Aka Matua Library Foyer on the fourth level of Te Papa. It was well worth the time. Oh and entry is free!

- Karyn

Electric Wire Hustle – 13 February, San Francisco Bathhouse

Kaz — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 05:43:00 GMT

Local Wellington trio, Electric Wire Hustle, have had a busy and very successful year with the release of their self-titled debut album, a European tour and a jam-packed summer festival schedule, all in the name of their incredibly popular contemporary hip hop, soul, funk and jazz infusion.

It was with great regret that I, and a massive Wellington-contingent, headed along to the San Francisco Bathhouse to witness Electric Wire Hustle’s beautiful and sensual sonic soundscapes one last time, as drummer, Myele Manzanza, heads off to join the Red Bull Music Academy in London.

It was well after eleven when the soulful voice of MaraTK resonated throughout the packed Bathhouse. Almost instantly there was a flood of people drawn to the stage, eagerly accepting the persuasive beats and catchy hooks with graceful nods and hip-flicks.

The set was impressive, largely comprising material from their debut album, notably Perception, Chaser and They Don’t Want. The talent of the three-piece was clear, as their live performance was incredibly enjoyable and their set was tight. MaraTK soulfully nailed number after number, dutifully earning his title as New Zealand’s most promising vocalist.

The night was spectacular, tainted only by the fact that it will be Electric Wire Hustle’s last live performance for a while... sulk...

- Karyn Cushen

Eyes Wide Open: Love and Guts – 11 February, Manky Chops Gallery

Kaz — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 03:54:00 GMT

Last week Manky Chops Gallery hosted its second Love and Guts art exhibition, strictly three days only, which was heralded to be one of the most memorable shows to date.

For anyone not in the know, Love and Guts is an annual international collaborative art exhibition that showcases the works of renowned New Zealand, Australian and American skateboarders, such as Sasha Steinhorst, Chris Senn and Pat Ngoho, in an effort to prove that there is more to skateboarders than caballerials, grinds and kickbacks.

This year’s exhibition, Eyes Wide Open, specifically sought to document and commemorate skateboarding's past and present heroes, so as you can imagine there were pieces that focused on broken skateboards, Glenn Smith, Jake Mein, and more sombre pieces that immortalised former skateboarders.

While there were a few impressive installations, such as YMRE’s Maori inspired deck designs and Sasha Steinhorst’s lo-fi mounted photographic blocks, the standard didn’t seem as high as the year before, with many appearing amateurish or unnecessarily crass.

So while I didn’t appreciate the entire exhibition, I am pleased I took a lap round the gallery.

- Karyn

High Tea at Martha's Pantry - 29 January

Daz — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 20:36:00 GMT

Now let me be very clear. I am a 6-foot-3 guy, not a small fella by anybodies well stretched imagination. So seeing me hunched over a delicate, porcelain tea-cup, sitting in a chair made for someone more... dainty... would probably seem rather comical to the casual passer-by.

Yes, go ahead and laugh, as I fumble my way around a tiny fork and spoon, trying to cajole the last few dregs of tea out of my doily covered teapot. No really, go ahead.

Because to tell you the truth, I’m having a rather good time, thanks very much to Martha’s crew, who really know how to turn on the full-blooded, high tea experience.

As my girlfriend and I walked through Martha’s doorway, we were greeted by a sight that I never thought I'd see. They had hat racks... with hats on them!! What an amazing thing. I felt a steel grip tightening on my arm, as my partner kept me in check, in case I decided to bolt at the sight of a hat rack actually being used. inconceivable.

We were promptly seated by our hostess and run through the choices of tea. I went for a bold Darjeeling, although the temptation was there to get something cool, due to a hot n' humid summers day in post-2009 Wellytown. I was disappointed that no iced tea option was listed with the high tea menu. It just wouldn’t have been on, having a lemonade or something-else cool to accompany my high tea experience. Not under my partners watchful eye anyway.

But the Darjeeling was strong and silky smooth, so I started to relax into the conversation, wondering what the food would be like.

Our three tiered cake stand came out, resplendent with little bits and pieces crafted from Martha’s Pantry of ingredients. It’s an ascending scale of savoury to sweet, with club sandwiches and mini muffins sitting at the bottom, little scones with homemade jam and real cream in the middle, and brownies, with a pair of cupcakes looking rather pleased with themselves, sitting at the top.

The club sandwiches were soft, and a good spin was put on the much maligned cucumber sammie, with a delicate cream cheese thrown into the mix. The scones were nothing exceptional, but their topping with real cream, and especially the homemade jam, definitely put them into OMG levels of goodness.

The best was definitely saved for last though, as a strawberry cupcake, with an absolutely tremendous-tasting, thick layer of icing, ended things with a flourish.

Something I should point out, is that Martha’s staff all work in a very confined area at the front of house. So you get to watch them make everything from scratch, whilst dancing around each other in the tiniest of tiny kitchen spaces. It's almost as confounding as those hat racks. Almost.

-Darren

Vernon God Little – 4 February, Downstage Theatre

Kaz — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 19:15:00 GMT

This month Downstage Theatre plays host to twenty-one young actors and one epic adaptation of DBC Pierre’s Booker Prize winning novel, Vernon God Little.

Anyone familiar with the highly regarded debut novel of Pierre, will know that Vernon God Little tells the story of an innocent fifteen-year-old Texan boy who is suspected of aiding and abetting in his best friend’s killing-spree of sixteen schoolmates. Unfortunately for Vernon, his best friend commits suicide leaving him to shoulder the small-town blame, so fearing the death penalty he flees to Mexico.

Tanya Ronder’s adaptation remains true to Pierre intent, as the performance adequately satires the uneducated white-trash residents and their unfailing adoration of mainstream media… if anything the garish outfits and cringing accents were a little too much… but this could be said about the whole production, which had a running time clocking in at 150 minutes, plus an interval.

If you can sustain sitting in the small Downstage chairs for that duration, Vernon God Little is a brilliant snapshot into the emerging talents of young Wellington actors.

- Karyn

Them Crooked Vultures - 29 January, TSB Arena

Daz — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 23:16:00 GMT

The allure of sex, sweat, thunderous drumming and chugging riffs lies at the heart of Them Crooked Vulture’s sound. It’s an animal-type rock-and-roll fix: shots of bluesy rock that have been topped-up with funk, sculled back and slammed down, ready and waiting for the next hit to arrive.

For reason’s such as these, TCV are closer in style to Queens of the Stone Age than Led Zeppelin, Nirvana or even the Foo Fighters. It’s ballsy rather than epic (With the odd exception), emotive or cutesy - as the Foo’s can sometimes appear. The ideals are simple, but the execution and attitude have brimmed over, elevating TCV’s self titled album into most critics "best of" lists for 2009.

Funnily enough, execution and attitude are two of the main ingredients in a great live performance. So it should come as no surprise that TCV’s show at the TSB Arena was exactly as it should have been. Rip-roaring rock-and-roll of the highest quality, brought about by a bunch of guys who looked like they were having just as much fun as we were.

And that's no mean feat, considering that the hype surrounding Them Crooked Vultures has been ENORMOUS – putting no-small amount of pressure on the three big names to pull off the improbable, almost every-single night. But experience counts for much, and each member went about getting stuck into his work, with a gusto that only love, not truckloads of money, can bring.

The epitome of such a work ethic resided in Monsignor Dave Grohl, hammering away at the coalface/drum kit with his typical, well-measured ferociousness. Grohl’s real strength as a drummer becomes apparent when you see how f*$king hard he hits the skins, at pace, on time, every time. His frame tends to belay it, but there has to be a wiry muscle in those lean biceps, armed with a punching-power that would surely bring down the most determined of opponents. Note to fight club enthusiasts - don’t pick a fight with big Dave if you value your looks.

The ringmaster/compere/sex machine for the evening was undoubtedly Josh Homme, quite likely the coolest ginger to ever walk the face of the earth. His cock-sure attitude, love of “The lay-dees” and throaty vocals were the personification of rock and roll in one chambray-shirted gentleman. And gentleman he was, as when the show was in its infancy, Josh zeroed in on some teenage audience-members getting squashed, and called for those pushing forward to back off and not crush the youngun’s. He wanted us to look after “the lay-dees” - because of course, “we love the lay-dees,” he drawled.

The show lasted for well over an hour and a half, with TCV being limited to the one album with some extra’s thrown in, including guitar solo’s, Homme's sly banter, and the obligatory introduction of the band members near gig’s end.

In terms of highlights, Mind Eraser, No Chaser cooked nicely in the early stages. But it was Scumbag Blues, with it’s funked out intro throwing the masses into a frenzy, which really brought a sense of fire and brimstone to TSB Arena. The combination of bass-heroic’s, arching guitar riffs, Stevie-wonder-like keys and Hommes falsetto was truly glorious. It lost a bit of steam in the middle when they tried to improv with limited success, but the finish was one for the books, and could have been a mighty encore, if only they had decided to do one.

Elephants was the other standout, pretty much humbling any rock song over the last few years with its tempo-changing intensity. Grohl is front and centre here, caning his kit to within an inch of its life, giving no mercy for the duration of the songs 6 and a half minutes of length. Homme called on the crowd to “Come on and move,” to which they promptly responded with a rippling sea of flailing limbs and stomping feet.

The dark horse for me was Gunman, TCV’s “dance song” anthem. It sounds fantastic live, flowing along perhaps more smoothly than any other track from the album. The chorus once again had the crowd writhing, with late comers possibly thinking that they had wandered into Sandwiches by mistake.

While all this was going on, the most legendary figure in attendance worked away at his bass riffs and keys with a subdued style that belied his abilities. John Paul Jones appeared to be in an almost blissed out headspace, lost in the music that he had been creating for so many decades. It wasn’t until the band introductions, when JPJ got the fiercest reception of all, that the man’s perpetual grin stretched to a mile-wide smile.

Out of all this goodness, it seems almost a shame to end things on a bum note. But the reality is that the TSB Arena is not a suitable venue for such prime, live music. The muddy sound in some parts was very noticeable, and if you weren’t used to it, may have had some audience members putting this problem on the band or their sound guys. This isn’t the case though, and reminds me to once again implore the powers-that-be to build a more suitable venue in which to house quality, touring acts. It’s well past time.

-Darren

Locale - 26 January, Toi Poneke Gallery

Daz — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 22:03:00 GMT

Another name for Locale could have been “3 Photographers chasing the New Zealand-ness that resides in the often seen but rarely regarded.” But I’m pretty sure Locale sums that up far better than my tricksy title ever could.

The subject-matter (If not the location) tends to be well-trampled territory, including shadowy trees in Ngaio’s trelissick park; a bunch of freight containers stacked somewhat haphazardly in Foxton; the sun, bathing a lagoon in palmie with it’s honey-like visual textures, and an assortment of other images that combine for the sense of national/regional identity, that starts at the car museum and finishes up in a random bush reserve somewhere around Island bay.

Each artists extraction of the ‘extraordinary’ from ‘ordinary’ New Zealand (Or the Wellington/Manawatu regions to be more exact) is more-or-less successful for all 3 camera-luggers. The fact that each has chosen to represent such different areas helps to create a sense of personal identity simultaneously, pulling the palmie-centric nature out of Kirsty Woods (Her hometown), and something similar from the other two as they go about their work.

Artist Lynda Garrod’s works tend to be the most thought-provoking and enjoyable on an aesthetic level of all the pieces. Her representations of Foxton (Any town that produces Foxton fizz is all-good in my book) pull something special out of the landscape, capturing the smallness in the big openspaces that dominate the area. The fruit and vege truck and the Foxton racing club become speakers for their history, talking of good times and days of relaxation that have perhaps long gone by, yet are captured through some fine photography, and an eye that respects rather than runs-over and disregards.

Shaun Matthews comes up with some rather unsettling Cyanotype prints for his “The quiet and the hidden” series. Perhaps unwittingly portraying images drenched in potential danger, as such areas can represent for the single, unprotected wanderer. Unfortunately his black and white's of Trelissick park don't work, losing all flavour and idylicism. they do provide a contrast to the pervasive greens of the colour pics though, which seem to run through the exhibition, like the combining thread of kiwiness that holds all the pieces together.

-Darren

Camera Obscura and The Books – 19 January, San Francisco Bathhouse

Kaz — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 21:32:00 GMT

An exciting double-act hit the Capital last week that was definitely not to be missed. On the dance-card was the unlikely pairing of New York based experimental duo The Books and indie-pop Scottish sensations Camera Obscura. Two bands that have an impressive reputation and a healthy discography to match.

It was close to eleven when I ascended the dull San Francisco Bathhouse stairs and was greeted by the industrial tones of The Books playing the eerie An Owl with Knees. On closer inspection, once I had negotiated the thick throng, guitarist Nick Zammuto and cellist Paul de Jong was flanked by projected images that were perfectly synced to their mesmerising beats. The images intertwined with their folk, yet sample heavy, tracks to create the most absorbing experience. This was particularly true for their cover of Nick Drakes’ Cello Song and Smells Like Content. It was unfortunate that The Books were deemed the support act for the night, as the transfixed audience was eager for more.

It was short wait for the motionless audience as the Glasgow-based Camera Obscura, lead by the adorable Tracyanne Campbell, hit the stage in record time and without a word launched into the titled track of their latest album, My Maudlin Career. The crowd instantly responded to the increased tempo and the energy expended from this visibly unlikely bevy of talented musicians. The set carried on in this vain as they played a number of tracks off their latest release, such as The Sweetest Thing and the New Zealand inspired French Navy. However it was their punchy performance of Lloyd I'm ready to be Heart Broken and If Looks could Kill that was the most memorable.

It was dynamic night of live music that was a fantastic mix of musical energies. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

- Karyn

Andy C and MC GQ - 14 January, Sandwiches

Kaz — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 21:20:00 GMT

Not knowing much about Drum and Bass or the highly acclaimed Andy C, real name Andrew Clarke, I headed along to Sandwiches more concerned with what hour I would hit the hay on a school night rather than how the actual performance would pan out… how wrong I was to think that this night would put me to sleep...

Having started out in the early nineties at the tender age of 14, Andy C has fast become a prominent character in the Drum and Bass scene – having established the record label ‘RAM records’ and built a reputation for fast mixing, often sampling old classics and mixing them with new releases - so I, along with five hundred plus wide-eyed kids, were in for a treat.

Once Andy C and MC GQ finally got on stage in the early hours of Friday morning, the raging, sweaty audience was treated with popular tracks ‘Soul Street RMX’, ‘Deception Noisia’ and Jungle FX. Not at all bad, I have to say. Not generally a fan of this genre, I particularly enjoyed the melodic tunes mixed with explosive beats. Andy C and MC GQ was an aural sensation that left me surprisingly satisfied.

- Taryn Kerr

Signer: Next We Bring You the Fire - 22 January, Album Review

Daz — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 20:26:00 GMT

Ex-Wellingtonian Bevan Smith pokes his head up somewhat, with a tasty little morsel of an album. This ambient-slanted beat-maker has tended to fly somewhat under-the-radar during his lengthy tenure behind the mixing board, but next we bring you the fire Is a good reminder of Signer’s talent outside of his other band, Over the Atlantic. And this new release definitely deserves some due attention, in a hybridised genre (Psychedelia/folk/indie/ambient/put your own label here) that keeps on throwing up gem-tastic artists like Bevan or the edgier Dimmer axe-man, James Duncan.

The lack of edge for next we bring is not a criticism - far from it indeed. It’s merely a statement of fact that the albums pointy bits have been expertly shaved down, rounded and smoothed into a comfortable, yet never flagging, electronic soundscape. The sparse but accurate use of speedier, more thumping sounds, help to keep the listening-fires stoked, and propel things along at just the right times.

Track We should touch teeth harks back to the beautiful weirdness of the knife, with some strategically placed synth notes working up to roiling drum-work near songs end. It’s a real standout on a solidly plotted CD.

One of my favourite features is the gorgeous vocal work that spans much of the disc, a masculine voice that flirts with the feminine 9 times out of 10. It’s dreamy to the point of sleep-inducing, but the combined flavours of next we bring will make sure you’re both wide-eyed and wide-awake, throughout the trip of this choice-little-albums sonic flow.

-Darren

Why? – 18 December, San Francisco Bathhouse

Kaz — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 09:47:00 GMT

I struggled convincing anyone to come along with me to catch the Californian indie hip-hop three-piece, Why?, with most noting that they had better things to do than listen to a skinny-white-rapper with a moustache... and turning up to a desolate Bathhouse, this sentiment was clearly echoed amongst many… a shame as Yoni Wolf’s performance, which included a healthy dose of black humour, was in fine form.

The night began amiably with the talents of Wellington-based Grayson Gilmour, accompanied by a tight backing band. Gilmour’s distinctive industrial set captured material from his previous releases, Chapters (2008), You Sleep, We Creep (2007), Phantom Limbs (2005), as well as explosive piano riffs from his latest offering No Constellation (2009), which silenced the numerable crowd.

It wasn’t long before Why?, comprising Wolf, brother Josiah Wolf, Doug McDiarmid and extra touring meat Andrew Broder and Mark Erickson, graced the stage and exploded into The Fall Of Mr. Fifths, a tongue-twisting song about syphilis. This was the beginning of a fan-favourite set list, which included Yo Yo Bye Bye, 500 fingernails, January Twenty Something and, of course, The Hollows.

The dry delivery of Wolf’s stream-of-conscience lyrics was equal parts mesmerising and humorous, with such lines as "Even though I haven't seen you in years, yours is a funeral I'd fly to from anywhere." And “I want to go into a Dutch cafe and order up a sandwich / Without pointing, looking embarrassed or using bit of the English language”, yet intriguing, as they were delivered with utmost sincerity and a deadpan expression.

Why? was an ironic musical treat that left me pleasantly surprised.

- Karyn Cushen

Kora: with Strike - 18 December, Wellington Town Hall

Daz — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 01:21:00 GMT

Epic is a word I try not to use lightly. But now I’ve used it twice regarding Strike, in the space of just a few weeks. Although, when you put them with one of the two best, live, NZ music acts going around today (Along with Shapeshifter), it’s the only label that doesn’t peel off from the sheer intensity of such a collaborative effort.

A lot of people went into Friday night’s concert thinking that this was Kora’s gig and Strike would just add a few bashes of percussion. They were wrong. Very, very wrong. This was collaboration in every sense of the word, and you could see the intense planning that had gone into the show, along with a pure passion-for-music, driving each individual on stage to do his or her part in making for one superb performance.

Our raucous crowd were intensely animated, and carried their energy all the way to the gigs conclusive moments. I’ve been a little bit disparaging of some Wellington audiences this year, whether it’s recessionary worries or something else that had them take an unresponsive stance to certain premium acts, I’m not sure. But this was a very different beast, enthusiastic throughout the many peaks and few troughs of the show, and rewarded near the end by Laughton’s admission that this was “One of the best gigs they had ever played”. It wasn’t a throw-away comment either - Laughton isn’t that kind of guy. This was definitely a top-shelf effort, in a format that neither performers nor audience-goers were used to.

The kicker song was Burning, ignited after a portentous build from the Strike crew. I can still feel the shivers raking my spine as the work-up from Wellington’s percussion ensemble slipped comfortably into one of Kora’s signature songs. It was like the measured change from dark to light, a synthetic dawn created within the confines of the town hall.

Undoubtedly the biggest highlight for me was the Gareth Farr number, Pukul, where both acts showed a tight core that built layers of sound and intensity as the song progressed. I read a post recently that criticised the gig for compromising each group’s individual sound. On the contrary, there are so many commonalities between the two that I was in no way surprised that this concert happened – and all the good reasons why were summed up in Pukul. It’s one thing being a purist, but it’s a short walk to becoming puritanical and single-minded in your belief. The meeting of minds and strong talents should never be discouraged, nor should the exploration of such avenues. It's called artistry.

My only real disappointment of the night was that Flow wasn’t performed with Strike’s involvement. It’s such a hugely crowd-pleasing song that I was really interested to see how it would sound with both groups working their respective mojo's (sic) together. Not to be this time, but I do hope that it happens somewhere down the track.

This was probably my last gig for 2009 (In Wellington). It was the perfect ending to a rollercoaster year, spent with perhaps the best crowd during that time. The concert was also filmed, so keep an eye out for music video’s and/or a DVD of the performance in the very near future.

Oh... And it was epic too.

-Darren