Would Primus Still Even Exist If It Wasn't For 'South Park'?

3 August 2017 | 12:15 pm | Ross Clelland

"Probably not."

Hey, it’s that guy from Nirvana. No, not that one – the other one. No, not that one either – the other other one. Krist Novoselic is the perhaps odd footnote to that band. The singer becomes a generation’s martyr, the drummer (for godsake…the drummer!) becomes one of the last of the old-fashioned rock stars, while Krist goes jobbing his way through a bunch of other bands – never quite busting into the mass consciousness again, but equally never really trading off his adjacency to rock history either. That’s kind of admirable. So, his latest thing: Giants In The Trees – a local band absolutely of his Pacific Northwest native habitat, that talks of things like ‘sustainability’ and ‘inclusive democracy’. Sasquatch (Grange) is more hippie-ish in style and manner, with Jillian’s voice certainly taking them more toward Jefferson Airplane than The Melvins. Sincere, if nothing else. 

Other bands sometimes survive through strange accidents, or collisions with pop culture, almost in spite of themselves. Would Primus still even exist if what is now a number of generations didn’t have them as they guys who did the South Park theme? Probably not. Conversely, Les Claypool and his cohorts have never really bent to what might be expected of them. The music of The Seven (ATO/[PIAS]) is absolutely of that wobbling bass that forever seems in search of the brown note – sometimes even finding it – inspiration being taken from a children’s book where those seven are goblins trying to drain colour from the world, as you do. And even that makes sense in their scheme of things. 

Those odd little islands off our east coast often present music that speaks of their place. Even though that can come in different ways and reflections of just what that might be. Gin Wigmore has taken her bluesy old soul manner to the world, a reputation and standing that also echoes New Zealand’s habitual punching above their national weight. Beatnik Trip (Island) even has the title of another time, let alone lyrics that speak of drugs and cops before some brass with a bit of joy in their swing kick through. The modern is represented by this being part of Ms Wigmore’s GIRLGANG initiative – merging other women’s art into her work, here cartoonist Liana Finck adding something to the lyric video form. Things can be worthy, and simply good. This is such a thing. 

Don't miss a beat with our FREE daily newsletter

Yumi Zouma returned from taking their music to the world at the end of last year, maybe seeking some calm in the sometime unapologetic provincialism of their homeland. So December (Cascine) has a time and a place to it. Interestingly, that place being Christchurch – a city still with some crumpled edges and rubble in the street from that earthquake. Distant harmonies float by, melodic and with a kind of understated stoic joy, itself a very Kiwi kinda mood – almost embarrassed to say ‘Yeah, it’s ok…’. For they are, and it is. 

It could almost be a contentment, but even that seems have a little itch of doubt and worry to it. Nadia Reid’s music had become a little richer and maybe even less stressed as she has gone. But Preservation (Spunk/Basin Rock) still centres on that quite extraordinary emotional voice of hers – a voice that seems almost heavy with thought before it almost rings with a most simple beauty. This is New Zealand music as a cable knit jumper from an arts & craft fair. It will see you through many winters of the heart and mind.

Back on this side of the Tasman ditch, sometimes the location is harder pin down. Almost in spite of its title, Helpless City (No Drums Records) has Jep & Dep singing from an almost Australian gothic austere space – maybe one of those highway towns that’s latterly been bypassed by the multi-lane blacktop which leaves you no time stop and have that pie from the local award-winning bakery that each of these settlements seem to boast. But equally, it’s a music of inner-west share-houses where there always seems to be an old Johnny Cash or Leonard Cohen record on the turntable. J&D make music of a sometimes oppressive intimacy, and you feel it with them - even if you might not want to.  

A few houses down, the music seeping out from under the front door is a little more energetic. SMLXL are making unashamed power pop with Blue Sky (Independent) - the sort of tune that’s always just in and out of fashion enough to be enjoyed for its own sake, and not beholden to trying to fit in with what will get them on the radio this week. Because it’s the sort of music that should be on the radio every week. Fuzzy harmonies cascade down all around, with true affection for the form. It does the business it needs to, and then buggers off – all in well under three minutes. All good. 

But even as Stuart Fraser nudges 50, Belle & Sebastian’s location is still that Scottish university library of somewhere late last century. And that interesting girl in the oversized beret and matching scarf is still unapproachable as you lack the confidence and/or cool to even make eye contact with her. Even the title of We Were Beautiful (Rough Trade/Remote Control) has the right tone of nostalgic regret as the synthetic strings and horns hum through in the manner that will nearly always demand the descriptor ‘bittersweet’, and an audience who will sigh and/or wince at the memories it will invoke. Same as it ever was. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.