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I really, REALLY, wanted to get these reviews out before the official Taite Music Prize shortlist was announced, but this morning I was scooped. To offer a slight spoiler, let me just say we are three-quarters of the way through an epic journey and have yet to encounter half the finalists. The first three parts (alayna - Erny Belle, Eyeliner - Mice on Stilts, and Miriam Clancy - Serebii) all opened with a bit about the Taite Music Prize. Not this one though. Enough facts. Instead, we’ll end with some pretty tasty opinions, including my own personal Taite Music Prize shortlist. If I’d been listening to all 68 of these albums just for fun, there would have been quite a few skipped tracks by now. But every single one of these reviews is based on a complete playback, no cheating. I don’t think I’ve ever listened to so much unfamiliar music for so many days in a row before. It’s been tiring, and fun, and eye-opening, and I am already thinking that I might do it again another year. But let’s get through the last quarter of 2024’s nominations first. We start in the Ss, and soon learn that the official list of nominations has filed The Fuzzies and The Veils under T, for "The". To all the librarians reading this: I'm sorry, I didn't realise until it was too late. Anyway, let’s knock these 17 bastards off and then force me to play judge and jury. 52. Ala Mai, by Shepherds Reign  Polynesian heavy metal from five South Aucklanders with roots throughout the Pacific and Asia. It’s mostly sung in Samoan with Pasifika elements - like hollow wooden drums (I don’t know my talipalau from my lali, sorry) and island harmonies - woven through but the metal comes first. Especially on the heavier tracks, you’ll hear tricks with time signatures (I think - think - that ‘Ua Masa’a’ switches from 3/4 to 2/4 a few times?), technical guitar solos, and incredibly tight work from the rhythm section. Alien Weaponry is an obvious touchpoint, and not just for linguistic or cultural reasons. Through the third quarter, Ala Mai switches to English for a run of slow nu-metal numbers. It might demonstrate range but it’s the least distinctive bit of the record. Single ‘Le Manu’, with its “Manu Samoa” chant and 3 million Spotify streams, is an obvious highlight to which much of Ala Mai measures up. 53. Language of Flowers, by Sofia Machray  Really good stuff - a debut EP that announces a songwriting and singing talent to watch. To call it smart, artistic indie pop undersells it. Sofia Machray’s voice attracts attention throughout, strongly standing out in a swirl of reverb. The six songs mix snare-driven rock beats, slower numbers built on lilting guitars, and in ‘Foundations’ a well-constructed song that swells into something slow and thunderous, a little like Explosions In The Sky. 54. Saturn Return, by Soft Plastics  Three-piece indie rockers Soft Plastics are at their best when they're at their loudest. Every time they stamp on the guitar pedals, the energy electrifies everything. They're not here to be one-trick ponies, though, so there’s plenty of their less-effective slow side on Saturn Return too. The album rounds out well enough. 55. Knucklebones, by Strawpeople  New Strawpeople! Knucklebones confirms the legacy of these one-time pioneers, and that’s enough for me. Comebacks are hard, but this is neither a cash-in on nostalgia nor a mid-life crisis. It certainly doesn't sound like it's been two decades since their last album. Final track ‘Forgot to Forget’ falls furthest from the established template with improvising bassoons(?) and free-jazz drums echoing around. It pushes some of the same buttons as Portishead’s Three - something that only one group could ever make, but not back when you first got into them. Paul Casserly and Fiona McDonald have rediscovered the gentle magic of one of NZ's best acts. 56. Cigarettes In Space, by Summer Thieves  The back-beat alone makes it clear that the best way to enjoy Summer Thieves is live in concert, outside, somewhere coastal, in the summertime. On record the vibes that they want to capture are harder to grasp. Tracks like ‘Slow Down’, with its bigger beats and bass, do a good job of utilising the studio. But mostly this sounds like a group who would rather be in front of a crowd sharing the love, and the daytime beers. 57. Sundae Painters, by Sundae Painters  Creative jams from a bunch of original Flying Nun legends. Some instrumentals, some with lyrics repeated for effect, and a couple that approach the rarified air of “actual complete song”. Overall this is relatively loose for something with half The Bats involved, but kinda tight for something made by half the Tall Dwarfs. A third of the Clean rounds out the line-up and comes through strongly on driving tracks like ‘Sweet Dreams’. You get the feeling that these sessions would have played out in exactly the same way whether or not the tape was rolling. ‘HAP 1’ and ‘HAP 2’ both fade in on the group riding a wavelength that could last all afternoon. 58. South Locust, by Swallow the Rat  Surely the Taite Music Prize entrants with the most pre-existing coverage on HUP, Swallow the Rat have long been a favourite around here. On South Locust they bring plenty of the post-punk, guitar-driven rock that we love. Like a more self-contained version of Bailterspace, the guitars rark each other up while echoey vocals and an unshakeable rhythm section complete the sound. It could be chaos, but in these well-practised hands it’s just a bloody good time. Listen loud. 59. The Raft Is Not The Shore, by Terrible Sons  Folk-based and generally taking things easy, you might overlook Terrible Sons on first contact. But this is not background music or just another set of quiet songs. Take the observation that kicks off ‘Watching and Watching’ as an example of their sharp, sometimes quizzical lyrics: “There’s nearly 8 billion of us. How come none of us look the same?”. Strings and piano are the main instruments in play, but more than anything else these songs are built around harmonies from singers as comfortable and well-matched as well as a pair of his n’ hers bathrobes. That they have interesting things to say makes The Raft is Not the Shore an album worth digging into. 60. Cupid, by The Fuzzies  Guitar, drums, bass, and a couple of microphones: The Fuzzies would have been at home in mid-80s Dunedin, late-90s Hamilton, or anywhere and anywhen else indie rock had one of its better moments. Fuzzed up guitars add texture without getting overbearing. Vocals are shared between two of them, so we get everything from low down masculine semi-narration (‘Side on My Own’) to sweeter Look Blue Go Purple-like singing (‘Koo Koo’). Melodic guitar lines keep everything together throughout. Cupid doesn’t shout for attention but, at just 24 minutes long, could have afforded to shoot a couple more arrows. 61. ...And Out Of The Void Came Love, by The Veils  This album mostly lives up to The Veils’ inventive, high-concept standards. Usually serious, sometimes orchestral, with unexpected turns that grab and shake you. At their best, there’s a timelessness as well. Stretching over 15 songs and nearly an hour, we begin with the strings and piano that make The Veils sound like much more than just a band. The academic, arty mood explodes when ‘Bullfighter (Hand of God)’ charges into the china shop. It’s got the posture of a swaggering cowboy and the desperation of a hunted animal. Blood gets everywhere, gods are prayed to (to clean up, presumably) and the only question is whether the band can wrestle your attention back to the 11 remaining songs. Undaunted, The Veils twist into a floating, electronic mood (‘The World Of Invisible Things’), then put a preacher-ringmaster in front of a rock band on ‘Epoch’. Then that’s it for sonic surprises and lush arrangements. The album’s second half depends on you being drawn into its poetry. Dark waltzes and a long-ish series of lonely troubadours take over. 62. Tiki Taane in Session with CSO, by Tiki Taane  TIki Taane knows how to put on a show, and how to share a stage. This live recording draws songs from throughout his career, with superior results to previous orchestral collaboration With Strings Attached (2014). Some songs arrive more or less unchanged except for flourishes from the Christchurch Symphony Orchestra, which adds to the atmosphere without changing it. The real pay-off comes when the CSO is given a foundational role. ‘Always On My Mind’ - which in another good choice is sung mostly in te Reo Māori - dispenses with its famous guitar line and brings the CSO to the front. The complete reinvention is a slow, swelling success. From brass blasts and tympany rolls to plucked violins and melodic flute, it beautifully shows the potential of putting so many musicians in the hands of such a talented songwriter. The crowd eventually sings along. As an album, In Session with CSO could have benefitted from more of this de-and-re-construction of the source material. But in a live show, familiarity has a big role to play. Quite rightly, Tiki Taane put the live show first. So the recording is a document of a very cool thing that happened and, like any good live album, it makes you wish you were there. (There’s also a film based on this concert.) Taane has other recordings that stand more effectively on their own, but that wasn’t the goal here. 63. Ceremony, by Tiny Ruins  Folky ballads from one of our nation’s finest purveyors of folky ballads. Hollie Fullbrook’s voice does a magic trick: It rings out like a bell, even as she sounds like she’s singing just for you. Nature and water flow through the lyrics, and the arrangements include some of Tiny Ruins’ more upbeat numbers: Whatever mood you’re in, ‘Sounds Like’ will lift you up. This could be an album that earns some new fans, with the brighter tracks paving the way in to the quieter, more careful stuff that makes this a Taite contender. 64. Brave Star, by Tom Lark  An understated singer-songwriter who, despite his pedigree, might struggle to stand out in this crowd. A touch of country and plenty of lush reverb give the impression that Tom Lark is settled in his favourite couch without a care in the world. The result is a bit like War On Drugs unplugged. There’s a dreamy quality to Brave Star - psychedelic music for microdosing to. 65. V, by Unknown Mortal Orchestra  One of the joys of the Taite Music Prize is seeing small-time obscurites line up on equal terms against genuine international success stories. America-based UMO (Ruban Neilson and collaborators) enters the competition with over half a billion Spotify streams and all sorts of other success, including the 2012 Taite, filling their sails. Expectations may be raised, but V blows right past them all. As you almost certainly know already, no-one else sounds like Unknown Mortal Orchestra. It’s a futuristic throwback sound, a bright mix of naïve bedroom pop, fresh guitars and bouncy basslines all filtered through something special. The best designers talk about working within constraints, and UMO’s signature sound is somehow squeezed, as if the musicians themselves live inside your earbuds. Twelve years after first winning, and still riding the same unique wave, UMO is most definitely in with a chance of becoming the first two-time holder of the Taite title. 66. Ideal Home Noise, by Vera Ellen  “I’m not trying to be clever”, Vera Ellen claims, but nothing this good happens by accident. Musically, we’re talking guitar-driven indie pop with a few synthesisers here and there. But it’s on the microphone that Ellen does her best work. She’s a light-spirited, matter-of-fact lyricist who closely observes people and things, then explains back to you all the bits that don’t make sense. The levity survives even when she’s reporting awful news like, “I’m at rock bottom, and still going under”. It’s said that effortless prose takes about four or five drafts to get right, and the conversational nature of this music has the same vibe. Fans of Courtney Barnett now have a home-grown artist to get familiar with. I have been forced to make an eleventh-hour adjustment to my personal Taite Music Prize top ten (which we’ll get to soon). 67. Donegal, by Violet Hirst  Sounds that evoke a French café, a piano in a meadow, and a lost choir dip in and out of this varied, sometimes understated debut. Violet Hirst’s well-trained voice is the main feature throughout, whether required to turn to jazz, love songs, or something more classical. The top of her register is particularly impressive - long, high, soaring notes that could lift any song. Duets like ‘Your Dreams’ and ‘Everyone Knows’ are unfair mismatches in which Hirst effortlessly blows away her male counterpart. He sinks into the accompaniment; she flies above the fray. 68. The Giant’s Lawn, by Wurld Series  Oh man, what a strong finish. Wurld Series are seriously good. This album showcases different flavours of their indie rock, from lo-fi jumbles to something more…mid-fi, I guess? To take four examples: The delightfully ramshackle ‘Friend to Man and Traffic’ lasts about a minute and a half and owes a debt to home recording genius Chris Knox. ‘Receiver’ could well be 26 seconds of a cat walking on a keyboard. ‘Lord of Shelves’ (2:07) is a proper rock number, sounding like it’s been jammed together in today’s rehearsal, with just the right amount of ostentatious lead guitar to get itself through. ‘World of Perverts’ is a solidly arranged, thoughtful song with a traditional structure and radio-friendly runtime. These could be four different acts, but instead they are consecutive tracks on The Giant’s Lawn. There are 13 more, and Wurld Series have more than enough supplies in the overflowing storage cupboard/laboratory/field of dreams in which they work in to fill them all with equally unexpected, fascinating discoveries. The Very Unofficial HUP Taite Music Prize Top Ten Shortlist Let’s quickly imagine that the surprisingly large judging panel for the first round of the 2024 Taite Music Prize was swept away by some terrible calamity. Furthermore, imagine that I, your humble reviewer, stepped into all 2,400 shoes that were left behind. In this admittedly unlikely scenario, the ten albums I’d have put into the second round are (in alphabetical order):
(I’m assuming that French For Rabbits were red carded for failing the length test, thus reducing the number of tricky decisions by 1.) I’d feel really bad for missing out:
* Stars indicate albums in the actual, real-life shortlist chosen by genuine judges whose lives were mercifully not claimed by any calamity, imagined or otherwise. The other selections were by Ebony Lamb, Shepherd’s Reign, Tiny Ruins, and Tom Lark. After 68 Albums, Here’s What I’ve Learned Lesson 1: Wow! There is no shortage of New Zealand music that ticks the Taite Music Prize’s boxes: originality, artistic merit, creativity, innovation and excellence. At times this project felt like a slog, but it was all worth it for the times when artists I’d never heard of before blew me away. Ryan Fisherman, Ringlets, and Vera Ellen, to take three examples, earned a new fan within a couple of minutes. We’re lucky, Aotearoa, to have a prize like the Taite and to have so many acts put their hand up for it. In 2024 any number of the nominees could be a worthy recipient. It’s kinda heartwarming to have learned this firsthand. Lesson 2: We all gotta get out there and listen There is some very good, very interesting music in the underground. Let’s give it some more light. I just heard a lot of really good songs which, after months online, don’t even have 1,000 listens on Spotify. Some acts that I missed when they last passed through Hamilton blew my socks off on record - why, oh why didn’t I make the time to see them (and put a bit of cash in their pocket)? It’s on us listeners to let artists know that we appreciate them and want them to do well. Let’s all be more obvious about it. Tell your friends what you’ve discovered. Get thee to more gigs. Keep in mind that streaming or even - gasp - paying for music from small-time acts means a lot to them. Lesson 3: I was probably a bit of dick just now Judging music on a single listen is brutal and unfair. But I wanted to do something big and stupid and time was pretty constrained, so here we are. There will be art that I’ve misunderstood. There will be albums with depth and cleverness that I’ve missed on a first listen. There will be music that was catchy enough to light my fire once, but which burns less brightly next time. This is always true, but for one-and-done reviews it will be worse than usual. Lesson 4: It’s not faaaaaair, Max has favourites Inevitably, there were also albums that I’d heard before - and I’d heard them because I wanted to. From the top of my head, the list includes Demons of Noon, Dick Move, Guardian Singles, Home Brew, Mermaidens, Pickle Darling, and UMO. That screws the scrum twice over - obviously I already knew that I liked these ones, and I wasn’t coming in cold (see: Lesson 3). Unavoidable, but worth acknowledging. Lesson 5: Dylan Taite was awesome and we are right to remember him like this For a million reasons, there’ll never be another Dylan Taite. Hell, there’s hardly a mainstream music media in NZ anymore, let alone one with enough space for a taste-making outsider to follow his ears wherever they lead him, then file reports to a national TV channel. Industry issues be damned though, because the actual music that we’re making is on a tear. The sheer audacity of the longlist I’ve just reviewed is a wonderful way to remember Dylan Taite. Doom metal next to ambient? Yes! Home recording artists with 16 Facebook friends next to acts with fanbases bigger than the population of Aotearoa? Absolutely! Substance abusers next to teetotalers? You know it! More than all of that: Creativity bursting out in all directions. Talented musicians doing awesome things. Inventive artists taking risks. And all of it - all of it - recognised and celebrated. That’s what this award does, and I reckon it’s exactly what Taite would want it to do. Did you miss something? Skip back to:
<< Part one, alayna - Erny Belle << Part two, Eyeliner - Mice on Stilts << Part three, Miriam Clancy - Serebii
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