Relationships are tough creatures to manoeuvre at any age, but particularly so when you’ve only just outgrown shopping at Hallensteins and made the bold and impressive move to step up to Barkers menswear.
A smile here, a wave there, and a relationship is eagerly blossoming in Khandallah The Musical Artist’s eyes. After a week of expected late-night texting you’re willing to make the first move - changing your phone plan. You’ll probably need extra minutes if you and your ‘love bug’ are going to have those agonizingly long chats every day.
But a week goes by and still ‘your-forever-bae’ won’t say those three little words. Even when you pleaded with her. Your great romance is turning south pretty quickly Khandallah, but this always happens in the movies. It even happened to Noah in The Notebook.
Finally, after you’ve spent enough time moodily scuffing your feet in an affluent suburb near the home of ‘honey poodle’, you turn up unannounced. Not even a text. Or a SnapChat. This is bad news Khandallah. This screams the end. Or rather, she screams that this is the end.
Ah, love. An artist should never complain about his muse. But for Khandallah, a naïve young man who lost it all, singing his heartbreak away may help to ease the pain. Plus, it has a catchy chorus you won’t forget in a hurry (and neither will she I suppose).
Never Did tells the intimate, and deeply personal, story of a relationship breakdown. Paranoia, angst and jealousy continue to feed throughout the song, yet as Hunter Davison sings with a beautifully husky tone ‘never did I do you wrong’ it’s as if he continues to deny himself the chance to feel any uncertainty over his actions.
Davison sings with the brave confidence of youth, his voice never wavering unless he’s run out of breath. It’s not an emotional song for him anymore – this song is an anthem, it’s work, it’s revenge. An easy song to listen to, it clocks in at just over two and a half minutes – perfect for the radio. With a banging chorus, a relatable theme for both injured parties and a butter-wouldn’t-melt voice, he could be New Zealand’s version of George Ezra.
I like to chef up hooks.