A Matter of Taste: Exhibition Essay

This was written as part of the first exhibition I curated, entitled ‘A Matter of Taste’ way back in 2014. It was a celebration of the past, present and future of Kitsch in New Zealand.

From the curator:

Tomas Kulka said that “if works were to be judged democratically- that is, according to how many people like them, then kitsch would easily defeat all of its competitors.”

Kitsch has had an ebb- and- flow relationship with both critical and popular opinion. Naysayers dismiss it for its overt garishness, sentiment, and mass-produced marketability. At the most extreme end of this spectrum, there are those who believe that kitsch is bad, even immoral for deliberately evoking such cheap and easy emotions. This is supposedly achieved by presenting the viewer with an illusionary world that is comfortingly perfect.

Despite these acerbic accusations, Kitsch has become an artistic field that holds a considerable amount of power, perhaps for the very reasons it was first reviled. It is still branded as art that cares nothing for taste. Consequently, it has become an integral element of modern culture, where ‘serious’ art may have little to it beyond a declaration of ‘superior’ judgment by a handful of academics.

Within contemporary art, aspects of Kitsch are recycled in an ironic or knowing way. It is a way of turning social commentary about irony and style as well as all of the associated Hipster-esque attitudes and assumptions into a commodity and vice-versa. By referencing Kitsch there is an argument for artists highlighting our dissatisfaction with the present. Our world is a product of the industrial revolution, urbanisation, and capitalism. While this is paradoxically partially what Kitsch celebrated, there is also an underlying desire for the past. But why do we have such strong sentimentality for bygone eras? Is it because of our desires for a more easily defined past? Does it help us feel superior to a more innocent past? Or does the ‘familiar’ remind us of the innocent desires and foibles of the past with affection?

Ultimately, trying to define what Kitsch ‘is’ is a bit like walking into a roomful of mirrors- it ultimately reflects ones own prejudices about what constitutes ‘good’ art and design, and arguably speaks volumes about the individual just as much as the object.  Within the realms of this exhibition, the artists have been asked to explore notions of decoration, domesticity, and collectability in relation to Kitsch.

True to the subjective nature of Kitsch, these works respond to the aforementioned themes in a myriad of ways, referencing both aesthetic, historical and perhaps future tropes of Kitsch.-Everything from garish colours and cheap materials to  Reuben Paterson- inspired portraiture and souvenir knick-knacks. The exhibition emphasises the way in which Kitsch defies the notion of good design whilst commodifying nostalgia in the modern age.  This tableau has the potential to simultaneously evoke memories and provoke a response in equal measure. But in the end, it is all A Matter of Taste.


-Kate Powell, May 2014


THE NATURE OF THE BEAST: Understanding New Zealand’s Extreme Metal Scene.

New Zealand has a strong history of punching above our weight creatively, especially when you consider that we have a population of just over four million people. On a global scale we are the same size as the cities of Melbourne and Houston, while London alone is two times bigger than us.  So when one of our own garners international success, we are understandably thrilled and plaster their image across every cover we can print. Of late, Lorde has been the artist du jour, and whether you love or loathe her, she has been impossible to escape.

New Zealand Death Metal band Ulcerate signed to major US label Relapse Records in 2011. Since then, they have amassed some 35 thousand fans on Facebook thanks to a critically acclaimed album and relentless international touring. But you are unlikely to have read about them in any major publications. They are joined by Vassafor, Witchrist and Diocletian as home grown acts with a global audience. Given this track record of bands, it makes the down-playing of New Zealand’s successes within local media all the more glaring. But these are not accessibly cool pop stars. These artists produce challenging sounds that redefine the extremities of music. This has led to misconceptions about the genre. To understand them, I asked some of them about their passion, and perhaps uncovered some reasons why New Zealand’s extreme metal scene has been swept under our cultural carpet.

In Craig Hayes’s excellent two-part documentary for Radio New Zealand entitled South of Heaven, he pinpoints that the first rumblings of extreme metal in New Zealand were heard in Christchurch during the 1980s, courtesy of Bruce Ray’s shop Ace T-shirts. It was also home to Grunt Records, his extreme metal LP importing business. Ray is remembered by Chris Rigby from industrial metal band Dying of the Light as being “a master of publicity” who frequently wrote letters to New Zealand’s music video shows telling them that “they needed to play more real metal.” They eventually listened, and Ray was given his own slot called Metal Primer. “He played bands that were doing things totally different to what we were hearing in New Zealand” recalls Rigby. This new wave of sound encouraged listeners to pick up instruments and form bands, often simultaneously. These initial naiveties lead to “a really interesting sound- really guttural sounding stuff that had a beauty to it.”

High unemployment levels were an issue across New Zealand in the 1990s, and those affected within the metal community vented their frustration accordingly. However, this burgeoning scene was to be short lived. “The 90s started with a hiss and a roar but it was all over by 1994” says Rigby. Another veteran of the New Zealand extreme metal scene Steve Francis of Wellington Black/Thrash band Bulletbelt states that this wasn’t simply due to the “Nirvana effect” either. “The 90s weren’t very kind because by that stage extreme metal bands had become very polished and produced…people lost sight of why they started.” Rigel Walshe agrees. He formed his death metal band Dawn of Azazel in 1997, a time when “there wasn’t much of a scene at all (in Auckland).Initially we had to organise our own shows as there were no venues to perform in.” There was a sense of needing to “rebuild” the extreme metal scene in New Zealand, a task which the community took on with idiosyncratic dedication and passion. The advent of the internet was another watershed moment. Bands had previously relied on an underground network of fans handing out flyers and ‘zines to get their music out into the world. Now they had a wider audience than ever before. Ulcerate formed in 2000, according to drummer Jaime Saint Merat: “Aside from bands forming and dissolving, (the New Zealand extreme metal scene) is essentially in the same state it has always been-a varying ebb and flow of activity, minimal shows, (and) unpredictable show turn outs.”

As an outsider to extreme metal and as a New Zealander something here is ironically familiar. The DIY initiative these bands have towards creating music is a trait that is held dear not just by the general populous, but also by some of our most prolific artists. It was the same attitude shown by Flying Nun, a local record label of considerable international success within its own musical arena. This was largely thanks to it being synonymous with the jangly ‘Dunedin Sound’ of the 1980s and early 1990s. Bearing this in mind, I was interested to see if the success of our extreme metal scene could be accredited to a unifying sound.

The answer was a unanimous “No.” “There is not quite enough history or lineage to warrant a sound just yet. Bands here are a lot more serious and sober, there aren’t that many fun bands, probably because it’s not fun being a band in New Zealand” observes Walshe. Rather than having a ‘sound’ it would seem that for most of those interviewed, extreme metal in New Zealand has an ‘ethos.’ Rigby cites it as being “a number 8 wire philosophy” that encourages bands to be innovative and self-sufficient.  He links this back to one of the formative extreme metal bands in New Zealand, Diocletian, who were inspired by the book “The Might Is Right.” Published in 1890 and written by anarchist Arthur Desmond, “it was originally written as a piss-take, but it became a Bible of the power of the Individual…the aggressive tone of Diocletian was inspired by that book, and if you draw a longer bow, that is the feeling you get within extreme metal in New Zealand.”

Historically, New Zealand’s geographic isolation has been both a blessing and a curse for creatives. This is no different within our extreme metal scene. Joseph Schafer, editor of the influential metal blog Invisible Orange describes the New Zealand metal scene as “a microcosm of the western metal world at large-it’s a country where metal appears to be abnormally popular given (its) population size.” But “the country’s local scene remains pretty isolated”. Despite interest in metal being at an unprecedented high, Schafer says “New Zealand remains deep cut territory….There’s a pack of pretty fierce acts that are trying to find new frontiers of heaviness… To those in the know, New Zealand is one of those places where musicians are really trying to push the boundaries of what metal can be. But I think that art might even be better known in America than in New Zealand.” Closer to home, local music journalist and metal enthusiast Tove Partington echoes this sentiment. “New Zealand metal is raw and pure without over production…it’s almost fashionable [overseas] to like a New Zealand band-obscure is considered cool and rare, and New Zealand is pretty obscure.”

Being “deep cut territory” is seen as a positive by Adam Thomson, vocalist for the brutal death metal band Farming the Population. It requires acts to produce a “standard of quality” while pushing sonic boundaries and has become something of a calling card. “We are really good at embracing new technologies and being forerunners- from splitting the atom to creating amazing music-we push ourselves and compare ourselves to the rest of the world, while people overseas may only compare themselves to their neighbour. Perhaps because we are down the bottom of the globe we look further, and that’s our driving force.”

Someone who is more likely to listen to The Smiths rather than Sepultura could find the unabashed aggression inherent within extreme metal confronting. But to an extent, evoking strong emotions is the point. Rather than ignoring the dark side of life, they wholeheartedly embrace it because it is all part of being a human being. Extreme metal is fearlessly existential. “If you go through life and don’t find something that is worthy of your anger and aggression you need to revaluate your value set” says Walshe. “There’s always something to be raged against, and metal is about taking that aggression and channelling it in a beneficial direction. These are emotions that are within everyone, and if everyone learned how to they could be harnessed in a beneficial manner, it would make the world a better place.”

The music produced is, in a word challenging. Unlike an instantaneously catchy pop song, extreme metal is something you need to almost learn to appreciate. To the uninitiated, the rich tapestry of sub genres can be reduced to being simply baffling and downright scary. Everything is packaged to be impenetrable and indecipherable. This is something that all involved are well aware of. “To Joe Public, it’s all the same f***king noise” laughs Francis. “The aesthetics and vocals of metal are hard to explain to someone who is not into metal. The first and foremost thing will always be the music. But there is a huge element of theatrics to metal. It’s a little like professional wrestling- I am not belittling it in any way, metal is my passion, but a lot of it is about persona and imagery.”

It is the bombastic theatrics of extreme metal-the corpse paint, the imagery, and aggressive vocals- that garner it mainstream attention rather than its artistry. This is something that those within the scene are accustomed to. “We are playing an incredibly marginalised style of music that is definitely not inclusive for the vast majority” points out Saint Merat.  It feels unknown and foreign, which makes it a sensational target. Walshe experienced this first hand in 2005 when the media caught wind of his position as a police constable and found it newsworthy that he was in an extreme metal band. Because how could someone who plays aggressive music about death and destruction have the moral fibre for the police force? This demonising mythology also hinders extreme metal being taken seriously as a form of creative expression, not to mention as a group of productive members of society. Some people would consider fans of extreme metal to be demonic anti-social misfits. But when they take off that jacket covered in band patches and the final note fades, both performers and fans alike go back to their otherwise perfectly normal lives. Complete with professional careers and families. “You’ve got to be a working class citizen just to afford the gear” says Thomson. All involved are quick to dispel the myth of metallers being societal write-offs, and they themselves proved the opposite to be true.

Despite being bellowed with aggression, and despite the gore-soaked popular image, the featured bands’ lyrics were thoughtful and considered. Topics ranged from the infamous Minnie Dean to contemporary societal and environmental concerns. “The name death metal does not do itself any favours” explains Thomson. “It does infer lyrics about death and violence. The difference between extreme metal and metal in general is that metal has a lot of songs about killing people and violence, but in extreme metal the music and lyrics are more sophisticated, the lyrical themes are more intelligible, and that’s not for any mainstream success, it’s because people grow out of being offensive.” While much of extreme metal is intentionally designed to ‘shock’ it does not set out to actively ‘offend’ anyone. “Rap lyrics are more offensive, – they talk about misogyny and gang warfare- and for the majority of them, they are not going to go out and do any of that. It’s all theatrics, but it’s popular, which is why you hear rap on top 40 radio shows” says Thomson.

Unlike pop or rap, conventional mainstream success is not something that is expected or in some cases even actively sought within the extreme metal community. This isn’t out of “juvenile rebellion, just purely because it doesn’t fit any of the band’s approaches to what this is all about” says Saint Merat. Like other communities founded in marginalised music, they are bound by their mutual passion for their genre as well as the opportunity to freely express themselves. So while there is “a sense of quiet pride in local bands that do well overseas, you get respect for gaining popularity and sticking to your guns rather than changing your sound in order to appeal to a wider audience” explains Rigby. Whatever their size, metal audiences are notoriously zealous, an open secret that has been recently reinforced by Spotify crowning metal heads the ‘most loyal fans.’ This loyalty is also translated into transactions. Collecting vinyl and demo tapes is still actively supported within the community, while fans are encouraged to listen to both classic and emerging artists. This lends itself to the overriding sense of support within the extreme metal community.

While the sound of extreme metal is not to everyone’s taste, that doesn’t make its international successes any less culturally valid, and it is a community built on dedication and passion. New Zealand is a nation that prides itself on pushing boundaries, but when it comes to recognising the achievements of a maligned musical genre we shy away-unlike in Europe or in the United States, it would seem. In the eyes of Rigby, there is “room to push it a little further. It wouldn’t hurt to play a Witchrist video, or have Diacletian headline an event like Westfest.” Stranger things have happened.

SUBGENRES OF EXTREME METAL (relevant to this article):
Black Metal:  
employs shrieking accompanied by fast, heavily distorted guitars. Songs are structured to emphasise an atmosphere.
Death Metal:
employs low-tuned, distorted guitars. Vocally, it involves deep growls and screams, while strong drumming is important, with an emphasis on blast beats and double kicks. The tempo is abrupt.
Brutal Death Metal:
a musical subgenre of death metal. It has rapid tempo changes, distorted guitar and bass, as well as deep, guttural vocals.
Technical Death Metal: 
is a musical subgenre of death metal that focuses on the complexity within it’s music-structurally and rhythmically.
Industrial Metal:
Combining thrash metal and hardcore punk with industrial dance music. Metal riffs are mixed in with synthesizers, samples, and distorted vocals.
War Metal: A hybrid of black and death metal with a very fast tempo.

Live Review: Steel Panther, Auckland, New Zealand

It’s a joke in itself when a band becomes as big as those who they parody, but that is exactly what has happened to Glam Metal rockers Steel Panther who were so convincing during their performance at The Powerstation last night, it was 1981 all over again.

The band started off life as a turn of the millennium in-joke playing on Los Angeles Sunset Strip until their savagely accurate satire garnered the band opening slots with Guns N’ Roses, Motley Crue, and Judas Priest, which catapulted them to fame in their own right. Judging on the turn-out last night they have a lot of diehard fans enthusiastically wearing terrible wigs, contraception-inducingly tight pants, and enough leather, studs, and leopard print to make Rob Halford blush.

Openers Blue Ruin provided a full tilt gritty rock n’ roll performance evocative of The Runaways at their best, all whilst looking like a hyperbolic homage to X Ray Spex, and a fitting band to get people in the mood for the headliners, who burst onstage to the opening riff of Eyes of the Panther. For the next hour and a half, Steel Panther showed a prodigious attention to detail. Sequins, spandex, and wind machines were abound, as well as the perquisite sparkly smaltz of Satchel’s guitar work that beautifully set off Michael Starr’s impressive falsetto wail. Bassist Lexi Foxx who has the most enviable eyebrows and cheekbones, managed to keep a rhythm, maintain a duckface, and reapply lipstick and hairspray between songs. It was ridiculous, it was pompous, but they were musically tight, as Satchel highlighted during his five minute guitar solo that took us through a history of metal (and a rendition of Doe a Deer that was somewhat lost on the crowd).

The sleek musicianship  and relentless energy of the band was juxtaposed against admittedly period appropriate misogyny, sexism, and racial insensitivity, which no-one seemed to take umbrage to, much to my surprise. Songs with names such as Fat Girl (Thar She Blows) and Asian Hooker were met with whoops, cheers and metal horns as the audience sang along to every word. They were clearly in on the joke and loving the brazen caricature of the band. It got so tropey to the point where two girls dressed in studded bustiers and claiming to be twins jumped up onstage, and after getting spanked by Starr proceeded to make out with enthusiastic awkwardness. All of the band took turns throughout the evening to make salacious comments and gestures at various women who took it in their stride. None of the songs are going to blow your mind with their eloquence and wit, rather they are all dumbass tunes about getting drunk, getting high, bodily excretions and various sex acts- much like the very bands they are emulating.

It’s probably the most puerile performance you will ever see, but that doesn’t stop it being incredibly fun, and technically brilliant pastiche. Steel Panther may only be a one-trick pony, but they are fantastic at making that one joke last all night long. They would probably say that that makes them a stallion. I’m inclined to agree.

Album Review: Kristen Kontrol ‘X Communicate’

Regardless of medium, one of the hallmarks of a true artist is that they are unafraid to stretch themselves creatively and look to push, redefine and even break down the neatly compartmentalised barriers they find themselves in. They are constantly in a state of flux, and relish exploring creative tangents. Kristin Welchez is one such artist. Shedding the skin of Dee Dee, (the heavily fringed lead singer of The Dum Dum Girls, a girl group inspired by the scuzz of 1960s garage), she has transformed into Kristin Kontrol, a slick amalgamation of nostalgic references on her debut solo album X-Communicate.

The album itself could be seen as a glimpse into the act of metamorphosis. Throughout the first half of the album, she makes references to her previous efforts.  Songs such as White Street heavily draw on the perpetually swirling, disorientating fuzzy guitar, which we hear again in Show Me. There is also a welcome hint of Siouxsie and the Banshees in Face 2 Face’s pompous pop sensibility overlaid a post-punk riff. It felt like she was trying to draw the same audience in, and as you fall deeper down the rabbit-hole she strips away the more familiar elements, leaving herself primed for complete transformation for the album’s title track. And what a triumph it is.

As a single, X Communicate is quite simply a masterclass in how to write a good pop song. Restrained repetitive beats allowed Kristin Kontrol to exercise her impressive vocal range to full effect, which she unleashed with joyous abandon over her ridiculously catchy chorus of hypnotically Gothic atmospherics, making this an unabashed pastiche of everything 1980s. Appropriately, this track was followed by Skin Shed, a homage to EDM and Disco and evocative of Goldfrappe at their dazzling peak.

But the album isn’t without its dubious moments. The pseudo-Socratically titledWhat is Love initially seemed like a well-timed moment for some romance. But by the mid-tempo 80s power melody of the chorus of Kristin belting out “What is Love, Did I Ever Know” it feels that Kristin has dug too deep into her influences, and comes off sounding cheesy and overworked, while Going Thru the Motionslives up to its name.

Overall, even despite the growing pains, X-Communicate re-establishes Kristin Welchez’s talent as an artist within a completely new genre, which is something to be admired- and she produces some fun, well written songs in the process.  Let’s hope she can build on them.

Album Review: Zayn ‘Mind of Mine’

Stop me if you have heard this before. Objectively attractive male that can hold a note joins manufactured pop-band and spends a few years being the fantasy boyfriend of millions of teenagers around the world enamored by their cookie cutter perfection. Citing “a lack of artistic freedom” amongst other issues, our hero becomes disenchanted with such a rigid mould, so breaks out amidst a flurry of publicity and legions of heartbroken fans.

Wanting to metamorphose into a “real artist” he rebels against his roots with an “edgy” new look and an album that serves as a mid-tempo R n B laced  public service announcement that he has had sex and liked it.

I am of course talking about former One Directioner Zayn Malik, and his debut album Mind Of Mine, who in this record now fits neatly into the mould of “teen pop star all grown up” with blandly clinical precision.

Here’s the thing. Like all of the members in every constructed pop band ever, Zayn had a place and a personality in One Direction. He was the one who possessed a surprisingly good falsetto and whose broody, introspective personality acted as a (relatively) mature counterpoint to his excitable bandmates. Stepping out on his own meant that Zayn had to establish himself as less of a trope and more of an artist, and there are many well-documented examples of musicians doing this with aplomb. Justin Timberlake’s 2002 album Justified confidently fused Latin guitars with Neptune’s produced party beats. Prior to that, Michael Jackson went from reciting his ABC’s to creating one of the best disco records ever laid to tape.

In contrast, Zayn has broken no new ground in Mine Of Mine. Malay the producer of Frank Ocean’s sensational Channel Orange has crafted some slickly minimal beats throughout this record. While this sounds promising on paper, rest assured that they are one of two highlights on this album, and even these lose their charm after a few songs. In order for this minimal pop style to work, you need a confident voice and there are several moments where Zayn’s voice is lost in the haze. By the end of the album, all of the songs have blended into one mournful racket that oscillates between strained falsetto and mumbled attempts at feeling.

Lyrically this album is a smudgy caricature of adulthood that is so paint by numbers I almost cannot blame him for how embarrassing they are. When Zayn isn’t drunk or on drugs, expletives stand in for introspection, while masculinity equates to a hyper sexual and vaguely misogynistic swagger. Ironically, Zayn spends so much time biting his lip asserting that he’s a bad boy that it just sounds childish. In TiO he asserts “You get me off its like cheating” which is one of the albums many, many attempts to sound ‘sexy’ or ‘seductive’ that end up sounding clumsy and hollow. His confusing wordplay peppered throughout gives the impression that although he wants to be taken seriously both as a man and as an artist he doesn’t know what it is to be either of them just yet. The one standout song Flower sung in Urdu, is all too brief at just under two minutes long, and the only real flash of uniqueness on this otherwise disingenuous record.

Mind Of Mine is a bland rather than bad album that shows Zayn as one dimensional. A missed opportunity for both him and his fans.

Live Review: Will Wood, Tourettes,& Tom Cunliffe, The Wine Cellar, Auckland, New Zealand.

Last night, The Wine Cellar transformed into an antipodean answer to New York’s Gaslight Café with the performances of Will Wood, Tourettes, and Tom Cunliffe. Their performances echoed those that took place in the bastion of the counter-culture movement of the late 1950s and early 1960s. Performing to a sold-out crowd, this trifecta of acts proved that the combination of heartfelt folk songs and acerbic spoken-word poetry remains a potent creative force in the 21st century.

The constantly metamorphosing Will Wood was up first. Having previously seen him in the punk outfit Parents, the first five minutes were an unnerving listen as this reviewer adjusted to the unflinchingly personal lyricism and nuanced finger-picking. Once this unease had settled, it was a beautiful, keenly felt set that drew heavily on his latest record Magpie Brain and Other Stories, an  album that is intimate yet universal in its themes.

Beginning with just himself and his guitar, Wood steadily built up the depth of his sound, inviting a bevy of performers onstage with him as his set progressed. The inspired addition of vocalist Reb Fountain to several songs evoked the dynamic of Emmylou Harris and Bob Dylan circa Desire, while Hopetoun Brown’s Nick Atkinson’s performances on saxophone and clarinet added the perfect backdrop to Wood’s mournfully witty brand of raconteourship.

Wood has been touring with Tourettes, who is one of the finest wordsmiths currently creating in New Zealand. Having made his name in the hip-hop community, he has released a glut of truly excellent albums and more recently, a debut novel which he drew on in last night’s spoken word performance. The combination of Wood and Tourettes together harps back to the Gaslight Café, where folk artists performed alongside Beat poets, each espousing their existential angst with breath-taking eloquence.

Throughout his set Tourettes railed against the government and nepotism, shone a spotlight on his heart, and sneeringly mocked national pride and our penchant for rugby. Like Wood before him, his sincerity and biting sense of humour enamoured the audience.

The final act of the night was Tom Cunliffe who was celebrating the release of his debut album Howl and Whisper which was recorded at New Zealand’s mecca of folk music Lyttleton Records. Overall he took  a much more traditional approach to folk music than the previous two acts, offering a timely counterpoint. Raucous ballads that told the tale of a mining disaster were juxtaposed against hauntingly innocent songs such as Just Kids and Cunliffe’s lilting voice rarely faltered.

A rousing rendition of Van Morrison’s Into the Mystic was a highlight of the set. The evening ended with all of the artists onstage radiating a joyous energy as they led the audience through several rambunctious song choices. It was a fitting end to a scene that relies so heavily on each other for support. Lyricism and storytelling delivered without a shred of posturing was at the heart of every performance last night, making for an engaging, humorous and sometimes poignant evening.

Live Review: Glass Vaults, The Wine Cellar, Auckland, New Zealand

‘Transcendental live show’ is a phrase often used but seldom warranted within music journalism. But last night’s performance by Glass Vaults at the Wine Cellar was a masterclass in it.

Opening act Boycrush is the solo project of Ruby Suns drummer Alistair Deverick, who picked up a NZMA Critics choice nomination last year off the strength of his second EP Girls on Top. His high energy brand of electronic glitch-pop has always been a crowd favourite, so it was a shame to walk in and see the audience with their backs pressed resolutely against the Turkish rug covered wall. But it wasn’t through lack of trying on Boycrush’s part.

Throughout his set he expertly intertwined sweetly angular rhythms with his elegantly sardonic vocals, not even letting technical issues get in the way of delivering some deliciously danceable electro-pop. Boycrush is an understated live performer, which is fine, but given his chosen genre and style, it would have been good to see him embody his sound a little more which may have alleviated the aforementioned problem. Madeira provided vocals for his closing song Flirtwhich this reviewer last heard at the NZMA Critics Choice awards and Madeira appeared to be racked with nerves. That wasn’t the case last night, and although it was wonderful to hear, it was a disjointed end to an otherwise relatively streamlined set.

By this stage, an increasing number of people were pressed around the outskirts of the room as they awaited the headlining act. Since 2010 Glass Vaults’ Richard Larsen and Rowan Pierce have amassed a loyal fanbase  thanks to the release of a series of singles and three glorious EPs; Glass (2010), Into the Clear (2011) and Bright (2013). Last year they released their gem of a debut Sojourn, which was nominated for a 2016 Taite Music prize.

Long-time listeners of the band are enamoured with the way that Glass Vaults built walls of sound that are awash with glittering sepia soaked guitar. It is music that is to be felt and heard at frequencies that vibrate your very being. It is music that ebbs and flows, twists and collides with a delicate grace and joyful abandon, so to hear it performed with equal passion live was truly special. The rest of the audience appeared unmoved, nodding appreciatively with their arms folded, aside from one lone dancer covered in body glitter artfully slipping up the front in his slightly oversized Chuck Taylors.

But two songs in, something quite remarkable happened.

A young woman draped in black dashed out from the crowd and threw talcum powder on the ground and began dancing with him, twirling her hands along to the rhythm of West Coast. “Like Tinkerbell at a rave” my friend observed. One by one, the audience members became enchanted by the air that was a heady mix of lilacs and pretty distortion. A kaleidoscopic reworking of Sacred Heartundoubtedly added to the fervour. New songs blended seamlessly with established ones, and by the time their last song Brooklyn “inspired by the Fruju ad when they are in the boat” came on, everyone was in raptures, beaming as they swayed as one. The evening ended with a stirring rendition of Ancient Gates.

Both Boycrush and Glass Vaults are great examples of the level of talent we have within the unsigned scene in New Zealand. Their commitment to their craft is obvious and should be supported. An elative night out.