Back again, this time during the heart of the Capital’s deepest, darkest days – August. And tonight, it definitely put on a real show of the elements with torrential rain and cyclone force winds hosing down every crack and cranny of the city. But despite that there was a distinct warmth around the fire of this cool little festival. The premise of six venues, all within a stone’s throw of each other provided a continuous and rolling roster of variety and merriment. This is Eyegum Collective’s third season of their Great Sounds Great Festival, in the past hosting young and hungry acts like Vera Ellen and comeback kids such as Goodshirt. This year’s bill offered the same sweet mix.

At San Fran, early risers saw valiant efforts from starters Dateline (pictured below). Relatively new on the scene, the band is something of an Indie-pop supergroup. The ongoing project of Hastings/Poneke singer-songwriter Katie Everingham and a revolving line up of local talent including Ruby Walsh, Callum Devlin and Priya Sami, who along with production input from The Beths’ Jonathan Pearce, Oli Devlin (Hans Pucket) and Callum Passells, made their brilliant self-deprecating debut album Dumb For My Age, of which the title song was a huge hit with the punters tonight. Their music is all about the 00’s and is lively, vibrant and grungy guitar-based, and infinitely infectious and hooky.

This evening Everingham was supported by some classy rope-ins, including Hikurangi Schaverien-Kaa (Ebony Lamb, French For Rabbits, Glass Vaults and multiple bands around tonight’s festival), Phoebe Johnson (Ebony Lamb, Revulva), and Reuben McDonald. The band knocked out some super- confident deliveries, warming us up and shaking off the raindrops. Tracks like Hands and Be Good gave us a real chance to create some fun on the dance floor – especially during their new, sh*t-hot twang-fest single Choose Me.

I nipped down to Rogue & Vagabond and caught the chilled freestyle of Poneke based hip-hop artist of Maori and Samoan descent, Kenzie from Welly. She told us about returning to her hometown is ‘pretty cool’ and had the small but supportive audience bopping about from the first drop. Having opened for Che Fu’s ‘Return of the Navigator’ tour, a spot at the Auckland Writers’ Festival and received release support from Aussie tastemakers Triple J, she’s been pumping. I didn’t get her whole set but did clock her fabulous rhyme Word To Your Mother and No Hype.

Back to San Fran, just as the thunder and lightning started cracking above heads. A perfect meteorological to dark music act Death and The Maiden (pictured above), who hail from the home of the Verlaines - of course! (Actually, they were named after an Edvard Munch painting). Slow, brooding, the three-piece juxtapose Hope Robinson’s anarchic, gothic guitars and Danny Brady’s melodic, yet brooding programming with Lucinda King’s sugary pixie vocals and heavy bass chords. Essentially, they make sad music you can dance, or at least sway to with dreamy confidence.

Tonight, their dirges were molasses thick, material sounding like an amalgam of The Headless Chickens, The XX, and Joy Division. King’s bass certainly reminding me of Peter Hook’s playing style. Brady’s washes of electronica seemed to match the lighting crew’s palate of reds and blues and vibrant greens that clashed like visual torrents, igniting the dark energy of the band’s new material which came predominantly from their third release Uneven Ground. Standouts from that selection included the disturbing, moody Waratah (which compares heart break to electric fencing), the angular Leanest Cut (‘the existential uncertainty of the heart’ they claim), the divisive 364.1 and another minor major called Not Like. I particularly enjoyed watching Robinson thrown her axe about, against amps and mic stands to create feedback drones and distortions of sound, in much the way my own personal heroes, Sonic Youth often did.

And then there were also haunting mellow moments in the set, especially their dramatic and melancholic closer, Scent. Perfect accompaniment to the recent climate changes causing chaos back out on the damp streets of Poneke.

I think I’ve fallen in love! I’d popped down to catch a couple of shows at Meow and was absolutely captivated by Erny Belle (pictured above) (aka Aimee Renata (Ngapuhi). The name, in case you are wondering, comes from a blend of her grandfather’s and little sister’s names. Belle delivered her trademark delicious sweet and salty mix of dark, sardonic lyrics, driftwood dry vocals backed by a cool and breezy Pacific musical vibe with smatterings of hints at Hawaiian steel guitars and Polynesian rhythms.

Belle is known for her debut alt-folk/country/Pacific pop-tinged album Venus Is Home, made up in the Far North at the studio of her father cinematographer Fred Renata (Muru, Mt. Zion, Poi E: The Story of Our Song) and independently released two years ago, spawning the amazing singles Burning Heaven and Hell Hole. The songs might be anchored in the Country music genre but spill over to the Pacific and the urban landscape drowning in lustful, observational dark humour. It was tin the delivery by Belle and her band that I became so mesmerized.

Then, she busted out the sweet, sweet soul of her latest, Not Your Cupid which inhabits a territory adjacent to the previous album, still folky but also cinematic like Chris Isaak or the Twin Peaks soundtrack.

She began tonight with Bowman, poised on a stool with a sound bowl that she rung by drawing and mortar around the rim slowly to create a warm ambient hum. Flanked by Tiare Kelly (keys, guitar) and Navakatoa Tekela-Pule she does some beautiful, aching renditions of Stay Golden. Then there’s Inertia, a response to stagnation – perceptive and real, and a deliciously harmonious Unchained about escaping the past. She finishes with the super classy Hell Hole and Crypto. Her work is stunning and mesmerizing. The audience, who were a mixed ages selection almost forgot to clap and the end. They were under her spell. As was I.

Back at San Fran, Ebony Lamb (pictured above) was warming up with material from her recent self-titled triumph, which has been touring the motu of late. Salt Sand Sea and My Daughter My Sister My Son stood out with the gathered, singing along quietly and smiling in recognition.

At Hotel Bristol Classwar on The Dancefloor (Solo project from Marika Pratley inspired by trance 80's synth pop and contemporary hip hop, using the Deluge) was winding up. She offered us some nicely controversial material including odes of respect to the Pussy! (women’s bodies) and (possibly justified) attack of Jeff Bezos.

Downstairs, boom-bastic large lads Scran were just kicking off and over at Rogue & Vagabond Afterparty were laying down some stylish beats.

Cats and dogs outside, I ran across the streets like a drowned feline back to Meow to see Womb (pictured above) and warm my paws with a glass of pinot. I haven’t seen Charlotte ‘Cello’ Poneke/ Wellington sibling creatives Cello and Haz Forester and Georgette Brown since they appeared at Mermgrown about four years ago. So, it was a pleasure to reunite my ears with their insular, cocoon like sonic experience. Literally blanketed in thick fog from the dry ice machine, the three were quietly hypnotic with music they described as "magical, yet untouchable". It certainly was! Particularly the celestial, swaying Like In A Dream. Also Oceans and a fabulous harmonic cover of Heart’s Sylvan’s Song.

I slipped back to San Fran to pick up gear and had to squeeze in tightly between people. Not surprisingly, Warren Maxwell and crew were in full skank mode, and everyone was getting down to it.

More puddle jumping took me back to Meow in the shake of a whisker to check out one of the other headliners. Ah yes, They’re baaaaaack! GSG is fast earning itself a reputation for restoring iconic acts to the podium. Last year it was pub favs, Goodshirt. Tonight, it’s Lydia’s besties, Fur Patrol (pictured below). Julia Deans, Andrew Bain and Simon Braxton

Can you believe it? The band’s second album, Collider, is now 20! And there was plenty of material from that in tonight’s set, like Precious Enemy, alongside key songs from Pet. For Get Along, Deans incorporated a little audience participation encouraging the audience to sing pack the chorus, which they all did full throated.

Dressed in a super-fabulous pink jumpsuit, Deans was pleased and amped to be back in the capital. With some of the band based in Melbourne and various reunions coming and going the band have had an intermittent time on stage. The last big effort was a tour in 2022, and it will be great to see them back on the road this year.

It seems like this band has always been in our lives, their cassettes and CDs were always in our cars and on our bedroom floors. From the release of debut EP Starlifter (1998) to the swansong Local Kid (2008) they’ve produced a swag of memories. Debut album Pet rode high on the charts for thirty weeks (crazy!). And of course, there’s Lydia, which knocked Destiny’s Child off #1 at the time. Tonight, it still came in on a tide of support, everyone singing back to Deans' word for word. I was well impressed how well these songs all hold up, timeless grunge rock, and Kiwi to boot! Overall, a fabulous blast from the past!

By now I was cursing my absent umbrella as I dashed back to San Fran for last gig of my night. If the Body Electric and Kraftwerk had a ‘girl-baby’ then it would be called Half Hexagon (pictured above). Actually, the brainchild of James Milne (Lawrence Arabia), Julien Dyne and Vicki Ormond, this wild lab-coat digital experiment produced some spectacularly sparkling electronica. Ism, Buy The Farm and Ramona were touchpoints. The Beast was stark 80’s techno pop, reminded me of Grace Jones at times. But it was the next-level immersive track The Method that caused the biggest fuss on the floor, with its psych-60’s acid wig-out vibes and melodies.

Dyne’s drumming was next level amazing, a combination of drum and bass and hardcore free jazz which he pounded out relentlessly whilst Ormond stalked him around the drum kit like a demented vampire. Silhouetted by dark streaming backlights she played up, throwing shapes against washes of red, blues and greens. Lurking in the corner, Milne was the quiet professor with his keyboards, a much different character from his Lawrence Arabia persona.

Although a soggy evening, GSG 3 was still a brilliant night out and well attended. I don’t know if it sold-out, but most venues were heaving, even early in the night, with peeps keen to support all varieties of acts. Poneke’s music fraternity is very supportive. Amongst the audience, volunteers with pink fluro vests moved, safe bastions for anyone feeling unsafe or threatened on the night. Around 11.30 I asked if there’d been any incidents, and they told me there’d been nothing to report. Such was vibe. Slipping to the front of the stage to shoot was a breeze, with everyone graciously stepping aside to let you in. That went for those vertically challenged, differently abled or nursing overfull pints or precarious wine glasses. Everyone was charming and accommodating and having fun. If Eyegum take only one thing away from GSG Festivals, it’s that their crowds are friendly, safe havens to enjoy music, especially from those up and coming. That is why this is one of my favourite gigs to cover. I really hope in this current climate Eyegum can hold on and come back even stronger next year. Many thanks to Ben and the crew for all your hard mahi to bring us this fabulous event! Aroha mai!

Photo Credit: Tim Gruar

Feature Photo Gallery

• 1
  Outside In
• 2
  Fraser Ross
• 3
  Horror Story
• 4
  Head Like A Hole
• 5
  Fur Patrol
• 6
  Michelle Rounds
• 7
  L.A.B.
• 8
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• 9
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• 10
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  Joe Ghatt @ TSB Showplace, New Plymouth - 13/09/2024

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• 2
  TASTE
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• 3
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• 4
  ESPRESSO
  Sabrina Carpenter
• 5
  PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
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• 6
  A BAR SONG (TIPSY)
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• 7
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• 8
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