A New Zealand Soundscape

I've thought about the old question a bunch of times: if you had to pick, which would you rather lose, your hearing or sight? For someone whose thoughts are governed by the right side of the brain, that's a crappy question – losing either would mean suddenly robbing yourself of so much art and sensory experience that the gap would be almost insurmountable. Still, if I had to pick, I'd part with sight. There are a lot of things in this world to see, but literature and stories work as a crude substitute, with the right imagination. There's nothing comparable with sound.

I like sound. In particular, I like nice sounds.

Granted, that definition is broad . . .

Poetry and melodies – when the two combine in that perfect way, it's electrifying, man. And, for me, music is memory. In the Spring of 2010, Hawksley Workman, one of the most innovative and intelligent people in Canadian music, came to St. John's and fielded a Q&A session at Fred's Records. I loved what he said about the songwriter's relationship to a song – once it goes out in the world, it sort of ceases to be their thing anymore, which is why a multi-platinum artist can get up on stage and forget the words to their own song. Songs become the property of the listener – they're the ones who associate it with their own life, who take it and make love to it or get their hearts broken during it or have it on the radio during that mundane moment that you recognize as crucially important, years later.

This New Zealand stage of my life is no different. As I've gone down the coast, through the mountains and forests and the living rooms of so many different people, I've had my ears open, compiling a soundscape as vast as this amazing country at the bottom of the world. It sounds something like this:

Pulp – “Common People”

Every morning at the Kaikoura Farm Park, the cellphone alarm went off at 7:30. That was the earliest time we were allowed in the house, and we only had half an hour to get breakfast and brush our teeth, so we pretty much had to get up then. By 8:15, it was time to feed the animals, then the poop picking, then preparing the feed, lunch, and the afternoon chores before a shower and dinner. It went like clockwork, and then once the WWOOFing time ended, the four of us would end up together in the WWOOFers cabin – again, usually like clockwork, we'd put on a movie or dabble on ukuleles. Rhys always played this tune by alternative English boys Pulp, a band that had been around since '78 but gained prominence in the mid '90s. “Common People” was one of these bizarrely drawling, moody songs of that era, but I knew the soft uke version long before I'd ever heard a note from the band. This time period was probably the last time I'd have a semi-permanent group of young people around me, right before I realized I was ready to go on the next, significantly longer leg of the trip on my own, and this song encapsulates the weakening of that protective bubble.

Taylor Swift feat. Screaming Goat – “I Knew You Were Trouble”

This song went viral at the same time that I was spending multiple hours a day interacting with Buddy the goat. I lied when I just said the evenings were spent watching movies or playing ukuleles – we also watched this video clip. A lot.

Six60 – “Forever”

It starts like an indie rock song and builds to something much bigger, almost epic in pop rock scale. Levi O'Connor, the surfing instructor, was bringing us back from the beach north of Kaikoura when he put these guys from Dunedin on, and I needed him to turn it up right away. When I actually made it to Dunedin a few weeks later, I found out that these guys were a big deal down here, headlining major festivals – and the song was just about everywhere, probably because its arpeggio opening is so catchy, and its swelling, dub step chorus grabs you in the guts. Youthful liberation in every note.

Ruby Frost – “Young”

I fell in love with Ruby Frost, her pink hair, and her genuine cool-but-still-girly-girl smile as soon as Des turned on The X Factor: New Zealand when I stayed with him in Te Anau. I could have picked just about any song of hers – the Auckland gal is the kind of person you'd want to hang out with in someone's basement with a record player, because you know she'd pick out some obscure song you've never heard of before (but that would end up being awesome), know the best place to get pizza at some ungodly hour, and end up surprising you by saying something like, “Yeah, I play the odd funk riff on my keytar. Wanna smoke a joint?”

Flight of the Conchords and Friends – “Feel Inside (and Stuff Like That)”

This song embodies literally everything I love about this country. It starts with Rhys Darby reviving his role as one of the consistently funniest characters on TV and kicking off a long overdue band meeting with Brett and Jermaine (part of my adventure involved watching both seasons of the HBO series throughout New Zealand) to talk about recording a song for a children's charity. The guys agree, but field real interviews with primary school kids to get some ideas. You have to just watch the full thing, but the way they put the final lyrics together is absolutely brilliant, nevermind the fact that it sounds catchy and features a full lineup of Kiwi musicians. It's like a community of goodness and happiness, and I heard it a few days after my 24th birthday, CouchSurfing with an eclectic group of wanderers in Te Anau. The pounamu is the physical reminder of the goodness of people, this song the mental one.

Fat Freddy's Drop – “Wandering Eye”

Reggae music that's with an undeniably Kiwi sense of humour. These guys are national icons, a seven-piece band from Wellington that like crafting a layered groove and just jamming to it – they put out a new album, Blackbird, during my travels, but it was this song from 2005's Based on a True Story (one of the best selling albums in New Zealand music history) that grabbed me. Not in a forceful way – more like a “relax bro, no worries here” kind of thing.

Fergus O'Byrne – “Strawberry Beds”

Maurice McGrath wrote the tenderly heartbreaking song that appeared on Make The Circle Wide. Kevin at the Kaikoura Farm Park warned us about overusing the very limited internet, and I just about had a heart attack when I accidentally downloaded this whole album in one shot. I'm glad I did though – a lot of things that might never have happened owe their existence to me hearing that song, and on the fact that Maurice has a brother that lives in New Zealand, in a little place called Methven . . .

The 4 of Us – “Gospel Choir”

I borrowed a Corolla when I was in Methven, and that was how I made the trip out the Banks Peninsula to Akaroa. The only potential downfall was the radio didn't work – I checked the glove compartment, and found a cassette that was a couple of pop songs taped off the radio, half of Oasis's (What's the Story) Morning Glory, and a group I'd never heard before. I looked up the lyrics afterwards, and found out that The 4 of Us are pretty popular back in their homeland of Ireland. I asked Colm about it later – turns out he used to manage them. Like you would. I brought the album Fingerprints with me when I drove through Arthur's Pass a few weeks later, but this sombre, alternative rock number was the one that first caught my attention.

The Chipmunks and the Chipettes – “Vacation”

There had better be a damn good reason for that. That's what you're thinking, isn't it? I'm not even talking the Go-Go's version, it has to be the squeaky voices of Alvin and the Chipmunks (and their female counterparts). Or the 'munks, as I came to know them. It turns out, when you've got the responsibility of keeping a two-year-old entertained, when you hit on something that works, repeating it ad nauseaum is much better than the alternative. During my time in Methven, the soundtrack to Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked had the same effect as the episode “A Clue for Scooby Doo” and the movie Cars, and you weren't long out of the driveway before this was pumping on the jeep's stereo. I got real used to the tracklist on that CD, and realized pretty early on that the overblown pop vocals of track #5 were friggin' awesome, and actually looked forward to it coming on. One day, we were out, and Colm pointed out that he really liked this song, and turned it up. “I'm so glad you said that! Me. Too.” The kids probably weren't even in the car then, I can't really remember.

Keith Urban – “Little Bit of Everything”

Keith Urban is not from Nashville, and he's definitely not from Oz, even if he grew up there – he was born in Whangarei, north of Auckland, making him a bonafide Kiwi. I heard this breezy, inconsequential country pop song in Akaroa, and I brought it back to the farm in Rakaia. There's nothing new or particularly clever about this song, except that it's fun and uncomplicated. Kind of like those days where there was a small dog to be walked, fresh eggs in the henhouse, a fridge full of food and beer, and a sudden comforting lull where I didn't have anywhere to be, anything to do, or anyone to talk to – where it was alright to watch the day go by.

Miles Calder & The Rumours – “The Crossing Over”

Wellington alt-country – if you made the fiddle a little bit louder and the patrons a little bit drunker, we might as well have been at the Ship, relocated to the South Pacific.

 

Great Big Sea – “Wave Over Wave”

There's no other life but to sail the salt sea. Need I say more?

New Zealand, you sound pretty good to me. And, as with any good performance, the bows and encores end, but the echoes drift out onto the streets, into the night, and play on for a long time afterwards.

Cheers,
rb