Radio One 91FM

There are some that say surf rock has had its day in Ōtepoti, but not if 4-piece outfit The Audio Visual Drop Kicks (nicknamed ‘The Kicks’, with adoration) have anything to say about it. Having kicked (pun intended) up a name for themselves within the student scene over the past couple of years, they booked in a classic Crown Hotel slot for their ‘Betterland’ debut-album release gig. Myself and Radio One leech Peter Barclay were ecstatic to head down to jump, sway, and sing along. 

Right on the dot of when he was supposed to be on stage, Dibs (the solo project of Caribou lead vocalist, Mario), casually sauntered in dressed in a baby pink zip-up jumper, matching pink and sky blue cargo pants, and an off-centered 2010s Justin Bieber-esk cap that read ‘Hi Haters’ in vintage cursive. Now that’s what I call a fit. On stage, he dives straight into a thrashy cover of Misserlou with only drums to accompany his distorted guitar tone. His songs and covers move from fast-paced bangers to slower lo-fi ballads, and then bounce back with more loose yet punchy original tracks. The whole time I'm feeling like I'm watching an early Surf Curse set. Dibs yells into the mic, and even though I had zero clue what he was saying (I think one of the songs was about buying a mattress), his passion was magnetic. Raw is the word to describe this act, but it’s to their advantage. It’s playful. It’s fun. It’s got energy coming out of its Converse high-tops. It doesn’t give a toss if you like it or not, and it definitely makes people move. 

Purple Dog is the second opener. They’re a band that has solidified their spot in the current student scene, bringing more of a (welcomed) pop-oriented taste to the landscape. It’s the kind of music that promotes dancing, with lead singer Imogen’s sunny-side-up vocals beautifully reminiscent of 2014 indie-pop. Singing lead without an instrument can be awkward, and possessing an engaging stage presence is as much of a talent as ripping a mean guitar solo. But there’s no sign of awkwardness when Imogen twirls around on stage, reaching her hand out to the audience with an infectious smile across her face - her microphone a tool to harness rather than something to be afraid of. Covers of Go Your Own Way, Message In A Bottle, and Just Like Heaven go down a treat with the crowd. But it’s their own single Cricket Enthusiast at the end of their set that really brings down the house. 

This is the last stop on their album release tour for AVDK, and they kick (hah) off this show with great energy. Kaia’s vocals are confident and strong. Drummer Shaarav is locked-in behind the kit, leaning forward into the music and rapid with the sticks. Bassist Jeremy balances vocals and bass, still keeping up an enigmatic presence for both. Lead Guitarist George closes his eyes and grooves along, truly in touch with his own playing and appearing cool as a cucumber on-stage - he is captivating guitarist to watch, with such sudden yet precise movements. If you’re as much of an avid enjoyer of Surf Rock as I am, you can’t go wrong with this act - the riffs, the reverb, the builds; all the hallmarks of the genre during its 2010s-revival period are present in spades across their album. 

During a slower track (Blue Orchids), we’re encouraged by the band to find someone to slow dance with. A line of us link arms, swaying along as the song builds, and thrashing our heads when it culminates into an almost Stone Roses reminiscent third act. When they break for a re-tune, Jeremy plays Simon Says with the audience - clap, hand on head, “dance to this next one, now take two big steps forward”. Kaia teases more fun games - is this a gig or a birthday party? Either way, I'm into it. The creative crowd interaction is kept up, we’re told to let loose and, “who knows where we’ll end up!” (Peter turns eagerly towards me: ‘Caro?’) The band ends on a cover of Boys In The Better Land which gets everyone jumping one last time, and then we head out the door after watching Dibs eat all of the ‘Jonesy Special’ pies.

Since last September when Bunchy’s first single ‘Scrapbook’ debuted, I’ve been enamoured with the band’s lo-fi approach, their signature art-rock sound, and their children’s storybook aesthetic. Bunchy’s are an absolute breath of fresh air in the music scene, and going to see them perform was a must. After watching the band play @Yours last Saturday, I am happy to report that they are every bit as good live as they are recorded.

And who better to open for Bunchy’s than Eris & U-No Juno. Unfortunately, due to a Potluck I didn’t make it to see Eris (sorry gang) and I only made it to see about half of U-No Juno’s set. Immediately upon walking into Yours, the Bunchy’s crew were manning door sales and handing out ear plugs – a massive green flag in my book. I love noisy noises as much as the next person, but mate, you’re gambling with your hearing if you go to gigs and don’t plug up. Especially if you’re going to see U-No Juno, they held the crowd in the palm of their hand with their mix of decibel shattering punk and alt. rock. With the band’s lead looking like a very young Thom Yorke and having his energy to boot, I was having a rollicking good time hearing the band belt out banger after banger. Also fairly certain I’ve bought darts from one of the members at what will remain an unidentified convenience store, so big ups for facilitating my silliest proletarian vice (if you haven’t started please don’t).

Once Bunchy’s commenced, the gig entered a sincere and surreal child-like space. The crowd attempted to keep balloons with simple sharpie-engraved faces air-borne, some attendees played a rousing game of handball with a very tiny very bouncy ball which had a mind of its own, and a strawberry-topped sponge cake (Happy Birthday Daniel Johnston) sat adjacently to the crowd. All this with no alcohol in sight, yippee!

Crowd theatrics aside, Bunchy’s Big Score delivered big time, utilising the contrast of serious and parody which makes their music so innovative to create a memorable performance of seamless transitions and out of the blue medleys. That’s right we’re talkin’ covers – Foo Fighters There’s My Hero, a Bunchyified Thunderstruck, some rockabilly kicks and Neutral Milk Hotels’ The King of Carrot Flowers, Pts. Two & Three among others. 

I can’t speak to how much fun this must’ve been to perform. Hamish (guitarist) had a knack for jumping around while shredding and joining in comradery with Max (vocals/keys) while Reef (drums) brutalised the drumkit. Giving high schoolers the opportunity to partake in a live music experience like this is an absolute boon for Ōtepoti, a city which has a renowned music output. Thanks to places like Yours and bands like Bunchy’s, Eris and U-No Juno, we’ll continue to be a city that punches above its weight in that field.

Is it possible to create music that sounds like it belongs simultaneously to a distant future and to your own childhood? Apparently, it is. Magdalena Bay have come into their own in a generational way on sophomore album Imaginal Disk, a perfect balancing act between wearing their influences on their sleeves and pushing the envelope on pop music. Hell, even to call it pushing the envelope is underselling it. They’ve cut up the envelope and made an origami discman out of the damn thing.

Mica Tenenbaum and Matthew Lewin, the duo behind the name, originally met while studying music in Miami and started a prog-rock band before eventually forming Magdalena Bay. The prog roots are evident all over the album, with extremely strong and sometimes vaguely confounding production choices and song structures that are willing to diverge heavily from any rigid verse-chorus-verse nonsense.

However, any pretension that is often associated with prog music is completely absent here. There is a healthy respect and admiration for femme-vocal pop music that spans the history of the genre, from ABBA, to Cyndi and Madonna, all the way through to Britney and Christina and even more modern icons such as Caroline Polachek. Fragile and wispy talk-sung vocals often sit next to, or even crash into blaring club synths that sound like they belong on a Daft Punk deep cut. It is an album that (rightly) prioritises fun and danceability over intellect, and yet is all the deeper and richer for it.

To paint a picture of how the influences grapple with each other and synthesise into something wholly new, you only need to look at the lead single, Death & Romance. It leans on this stumbling piano intro that sounds undeniably Fatboy Slim, but once Mica’s vocal waltzes in like something from a late 90s Kylie album and the extremely fuzzy (bordering on Kid A fuzzy) bassline comes and lays down over everything, it transforms from the sum of its parts into something greater, a greater that is equally unique, catchy and perplexing.

A true triumph of fun, movement, and oddly satisfying juxtaposition, the album is an excellent example of why any sweeping dismissal of pop music for being banal or bland is ridiculous and simply cuts you off from swathes of the most interesting music being produced today. Recommended for anyone who is big on enjoying being alive.

Donald Glover has always been clear on one thing: he prefers making movies to making music. But if you look at his streaming numbers, the public has been clear on one thing: they like Childish Gambino’s music. So how does he gracefully go about sending off this moniker that has been practically ever-present in pop music since I graduated high-school? A soundtrack album, of course.

Now while Bando Stone and the New World is indeed (supposedly) the soundtrack to an upcoming piece of visual media by Glover (with a release date of TBA), I feel I should note that I mean ‘soundtrack album’ in a nebulous sense. The kind of genre-sprawling album that reaches for a different emotional crescendo in almost every single track, and often defies categorisation into one era or one location. Think Paul Thomas Anderson, Sofia Coppola, Wong Kar-wai… I’m sure you have a favourite.

And while separated from the visuals they are supposed to be accompanying they can be jarring and incoherent, they’re also always a lot of fun to listen to. Here on Bando Stone it’s no different, and you bounce from one era of Gambino to the next at such a clip it’s hard for any of it to drag or outstay its welcome.

There’s more rapping here than he’s done in a long while, and yet, it’s also only a handful of tracks from a total of seventeen. There are pop bangers that WILL make white people turn up at parties, in the rich tradition of tracks such as 3005 and Bonfire. His soul and R&B side from Awaken, My Love gets plenty of love and the Kauai summer vibes shine through on certain tracks too.

To me, this is less the soundtrack of any actual film and more ‘the soundtrack to the film of the artist’. While it doesn’t appear coherent on the surface, if you put it within the context of the film, it makes total sense. Donald Glover runs it back one last time, and touches on all of the high points of his career as Childish Gambino. Fans of his will love it, and those not familiar will surely find a few tracks to enjoy.

How do you reconcile art you made eleven years ago with the person you are today? Abel Tasman-born bedroom pop artist Salvia Palth shows us the way on last chance to see, their eons-awaited follow up to 2013 debut melanchole.

While said debut is full to the brim of fifteen-year old angst, insecurity, and a healthy dose of Phil Elverum and Mount Eerie worship, there is an overwhelming authenticity to it. An insistence, when you listen, that these are real feelings being felt. Perhaps it is understandable why multiple generations of sad teenagers have treated it as gospel, and why Salvia Palth is a name you hear whispered next to bedroom pop icons, your teen suicides and your Elvis Depressedlys.

However, when you're in your late twenties, sadness feels markedly different to how it felt when you were fifteen. It has sat with you for a decade or more, and the immediacy of it has waned. Teenage sweethearts are no longer the central source of pain in your life, for one. It would have been easy for Salvia Palth to follow up with more of the same, but it wouldn't have been authentic.

Instead, on last chance to see, everything has grown. The instrumental palette, the emotional palette, the person. Rather than being rigidly defined by a genre, or an emotion, this album is an exploration of a decade of new influences and experiences. There is still the same emotional haze, the same airy bedroom pop production, but there are instrumental hints all over that suggest a much wider pool of influences – the programmed drums on 'you wouldn't ask a fire to stop', for example, have a hint of hip-hop to them.

It is a fantastic work of growth for a New Zealand artist that has been as elusive as they are successful. It invites many fans who put the debut on a pedestal to grow with the artist, to move on from all-consuming teenage emotion, but without a hint of judgement. Hopefully it won't be our last chance to see what they have to offer.