Collective toolbox leads to collaboration
Collaborative album It’s Already Tomorrow, written during lockdown, reflects musicians’ experiences of that historic time.
Lockdown could have been a productive time for musicians. With daily life simplified, no pressure of live shows or touring, they might have looked out to the quiet natural world, and inward for some deep self-reflection, finding a contemplative space for songwriting. Some did. But many found themselves creatively paralysed, completely unmotivated, and at a loss for words.
A kitset for a song, a toolbox of varied sounds, including ambient synth textures, field recordings, and hip-hop beats would have been a perfect gift to receive at that time. It’s exactly what composer John Psathas gave to eight other songwriters/producers. He’s no stranger to helming big, collaborative multi-national projects, and this collective toolbox was away of putting a sonic umbrella over them, to give the songs common genealogy.
The resulting album, It’s Already Tomorrow, shows that forward planning paying off. The tracks sit together cohesively, with threads of saxophone, rattling percussion from Greece, and a couple of local voices throughout. It makes for a gorgeous listen in full – something other compilations struggle with.
Christchurch artist Indi eases us in with a distant thunderstorm and a choir of classroom recorders. She blends them seamlessly into the beguiling sound of the Qanun, a dulcimer-like instrument from the Middle East played by Viennabased musician Sofia Labropoulou. The song becomes more urgent and metallic as it goes on.
Name UL, known for his hip-hop beats and rhymes, leads us to the dancefloor for some atmospheric drum and bass breakbeats. For amoment I think I’m hearing the golden falsetto croon of American artist Moses Sumney in the mix, but it turns out to be a local musician who I’ve seen covering Stevie Wonder and Prince with flair at the Sunday Market – Arjuna Oakes.
Oakes takes the lead on another of the songs, Unlearn, but his thoughtful lyrics somehow disrupt the flow here. ‘‘All the lies that I’ve been fed, are called into question’’ turns into a refrain, like a protest chant, and, while his intentions are admirable, challenging his own biases and racist systems, I’d prefer just to let the soundscapes wash over me at this point.
Paekakariki-based multiinstrumentalist Jack Hookerweaves textures and rhythms from far-flung lands together in the next track, Alimos. Spacious and masterfully played flamenco style guitar opens the song, which fills out with jangly percussion, Iranian string instrument kamancheh and soprano sax played by New Zealander Hayden Chisholm, from his
base inBelgrade. Whilewe’re content to be here in Aotearoa, it’s nice to be reminded of the world of music outside our borders.
There are a couple of songs here that reflect the apocalyptic unease some felt at the beginning of 2020. The first, I’m Not Lazy, Just Lost, from Greek New Zealander Briar Prastiti might appeal to fans of avant-pop producers like Julia Holter or Holly Herndon. Here beats smack like wet towels over a fiery bed of angsty vocals, warped synths and fluttering sax.
Euringer, an American musician who has relocated to Wellington, gives Ariana Tikao’s spoken voice a creepy AI filter and, with a bleak, claustrophobic industrial backdrop, she sings words we all know – ‘‘Ma¯ iswhite, whe¯ro is red, ka¯ka¯riki green…’’ it’s benign enough, but by the end of the song Ariana’s AI machine is punishing humankind for their evils. It’s probably for the best.
Balancing the dystopian vibe are songs by Coromandel-based sisters Purple Pilgrims, and Wellington’s Grayson Gilmour. Both do here what they do best, creating washes of sound that feel comforting. Both acts looked to the land they had been grounded on. It’s these calm, languid moments that best reflect Aotearoa’s late summer lockdown, and give the space to consider what the future could look like.