Chapel Music : Sam Hamilton + Nick Harte/Richard Neave + Dirtroom + Silent Spring + Adam Willetts. 2 OCTOBER 2008

Perhaps a cheerfully unwitting paean to the celebratory chaos we see flying out of Swedish record label Release the Bats right now (NO MOSH! NOCORE! NOFUN!), THIS Thursday Night at the Heritage Chapel of the Music Centre of Christchurch (140a Barbadoes Street) promises – albeit slyly – to host and deliver the type of sun-kissed nocturnal pandemonium that could only come out of such a celestially Gothic clime. Stepping right up to the sonic countenance of BLACK PHOTOSYNTHESIS itself, only to turn its closed eyes back into the coloratura rays of the HAPPY ORANGE will be a peripatetic swarm of music-makers and un-makers alike –

Sam Hamilton [Ak]

Richard Neave/Nick Harte [ChCh]

Dirtroom [Dun]

Adam Willetts [ChCh]

Silent Spring [Ak/ChCh]


Music Centre of Christchurch Heritage Chapel, 140a Barbadoes Street.




we should try and start a trend towards less verbose promotional
material. i get really sick of being asked for a bio every other time
i play. it's hard enough preparing for a gig without having to try
writing some bullshit that explains who you are and what you do
without telling the audience what to get from your music. excessively
informative promos favour megalomaniacal types who are better at
hyping their music than playing it, or encourage artists too much
towards gimmicky technique/tools so that they have something that's
easier to articulate in words than their music is (i feel like this
has happened to me at times, exaggerated by the similar demands that
are placed on one by art school education etc.)
anyway, that's far too much rambling on. see you thursday.

i. a new brand of translucent carrot in the Auckland itinerant SAM HAMILTON – not-so-recently-returned Amazonian vacationer currently on HSP-sanctioned duty narrowcasting his pilfered avarian polyphonies down that wan domain next to the city centre Bus Terminal.

ii. the perennially desultory vines of RICHARD NEAVE And NICK HARTE reuniting on a terrorized and understandably fragile aural trellis of guitar and drums, their sinuously coruscating interplay limbs heard beheld as so many gleeful moirĂ©, contorted like eloquent parasites upon the chapel's cloistered lifeline. As RICHARD NEAVE himself writes, "Me and Nick have played off and on for about a decade...Anyway he's back in town so you're going to see one of those rarest of things: a reformation gig that doesn't suck – possibly even better than the original. I do a kind of screechy but heart-felt noise guitar tantrum – and Nick – best drummer in this country, that I know of [don't take my word for it buy a C.D. at the door] – does a heart, and associated organs-pounding explosive tantradrum. And while it is a chapel, and God is always supposed to be there, this time you're going to believe it, and you're going to feel it".

iii. a Ballardian multilingual sound-sweeping parrot in the ethereal harvestings of ADAM WILLETTS, who leaves no phantom stone unturned in his aural mining of these here evangelically vaunted territories, mimicking the sighs of choir specters in order to search beyond in truly bubbly spectral vaults with an index of hi and no-fi electronic utilities.

the topsoil and star maneuvers of Dunedin's DIRTROOM and their ripped up taproot hybridization of Black Metal Big Beat transcendence, taking the liturgical litanies of the Catholic precinct and turning/tuning them into a profanely sublime oscillation, into so many soft curses. As
Matt Middleton put it once, "They tore and shred and rollicked and banged and fed-back a million times over..."

iv. the deracinated foliage of SILENT SPRING, a soughing resuscitated hymn of an exploratory AK-CHCH trio paying simultaneous homage to that seminal Orwellian ecological potboiler of a namesake book and anti-homage to that fucking awful onanism we had to witness in Rafael Toral when he wasted a whole lot of fossil fuel
just to come and show us his bloody foible of a coil in July.