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‘Kiwi Animals’ is a personal catalog of local oddities; affectionately recasting the 1980’s New Zealand Top 40 in a parallel universe of misfit pop, gonzo-tronics & voodoo-waves.

Channeling South Pacific gothic sensibilities and edge of world melancholia, the album highlights unexpected electronic tangents from iconic NZ groups Blam Blam Blam & Headless Chickens.

It dredges the C-90 revelations of art avante-gardists’ Drone & Kim Blackburn, along with the bittersweet pop of Rupert & Norma O’Malley. There’s the infectious minimal wave of Ballare and a reprised dance suite from Tom Ludvigson & Graeme Gash.

The furthest depths of Flying Nun’s catalog are also plundered- a brilliant earworm from Stiff Herbert and a mysterious Roger Knox birthday promo. Mining the various disparate seams of a local indie label awakening, ‘Kiwi Animals’ congeals with future/primitive ingenuity and an underlying Antipodean pop mischievousness…

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"The music is based on the environmental & ecological despair happening in front of us, particularly in reference to South India. As with most of my work, the piece started with field recordings taken on location (in this case, on the Kerala / Tamil Nadu border in South India). I had been reading about the severe erosion levels in the territory and was sitting on the beach watching these little streams of sand pour out into the sea. I was watching the tide, not erosion, of course, but it was a very powerful miniature of the sad reality. So the piece is about this little moment of aching tenderness between me and nature, sitting powerless on the sand and watching it disappear into the water." (Dylan Henner)
Credits
Mastered by Ian Hawgood
Artwork by Femke
Music written, performed & produced by Dylan Henner

Watch the tide roll away

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Dreaming doesn’t come easy these shadowed days, which is why Strange To Explain by Woods is such a welcome turning of new colors. 

It presents an extended moment of sweet reflection for the 15-year-old band, bouncing back to earth as something hopeful and weird and resolute. After quickly recording and releasing 2017’s Love Is Love in response to the tumultuous events of their (and our) 2016, Jeremy Earl and company took their time with the follow-up. Parenthood arrived, as did a short songwriting pause. The band went bicoastal when Jarvis Taveniere headed west. The result is an album that not only catches and holds and shares the light in yet another new way, but recognizes that there’s still light to be caught.

A bend beyond the last bend beyond, Woods keep on changing, thoughtfully and beautifully. The colors were always there, like trees blossoming just slightly differently each season, a synesthetic message coded in slow-motion. Recorded in Stinson Beach, the California enclave where the government once tracked one of the largest LSD rings in the world only to be questioned by the neighbors as agents prowled the woods, on Strange To Explain, the familiar jangling guitars recede to the background. John Andrews’s warm keyboards and twining Mellotron rise around Earl’s songs and dance across the chord changes like warm sunlight off the Pacific. The music feels a karmic landmass away from the creepiness of the uncanny valley. 

Just dig into “Can’t Get Out” or “Fell So Hard” and it’s easy to spot the affable hooks and fuzzed-out bass and third-eye winks and fun harmonies that Woods have produced reliably since way back ‘round 2004 (which, in the buzz-buzz world of psych-pop really is a grand achievement). But listen carefully, too, to the sound of our (and their) world in transition, the ambient humming of spring peepers behind “Where Do You Go When You Dream.” Especially sink into the intention-setting opening trio of songs, emerging from (and shimmering inside) an atmosphere that could only be made by musicians who’ve been working together for nearly 20 years, as Earl and Taveniere have. It’s hardly a secret language, but you try verbalizing it.

Depending on where in the time-track one stands, it’s their 11th full length (not counting collaborations, split LPs, EPs, and singles), and the 99th release on Earl’s Woodsist label. By any standards, Strange To Explain is the work of a mature band, capable of both heavy atmospheric declarations like “Just To Fall Asleep” alongside extended-form pieces like the album-closing “Weekend Wind,” unfolding in layers of trumpet and vibraphone and ambient guitars and stereoscopic percussion.

For contemporary heads, it can be nearly a full-time job to filter out all the bad energy being blasted through nearly all media channels from every conceivable direction. But not all media channels. The benevolent, Mellotron-dabbed dream-sounds of Strange To Explain constitute some of the more welcome transmissions on these shores in a Venusian minute. They’re sure to brighten any desert solarium, LED-lit pod, portable Bucky-dome, eco-fit Airstream, or whatever other cozy dwelling your time-mind is currently occupying.

Jesse Jarnow