Light shines on band’s success

Six60: Till the Lights Go Out (M, 92mins) Directed by Julia Parnell Reviewed by James Croot ★★★ 1⁄ 2

The ‘‘Dunedin Sound’’ was never like this. Sure, local bands were gaining national, sometimes international, attention for their songs when I was growing up in the Edinburgh of the South, but the likes of The Clean, The Chills, The Able Tasmans and Straitjacket Fits never dominated the New Zealand charts, sold out stadiums or even created clear sing-a-longable lyrics.

However, as the entertaining and enlightening Till the Lights Go Out recounts in detail, the path to success for Six60 has not been a smooth one.

Less-than-sweet reviews from local music critics, band ructions, fallouts with record labels and a tragic accident have all helped shape the band first formed on Dunedin rugby fields and a now famous flat on the city’s less-than-salubrious Castle St.

In fact, so storied and dramatic is their history that all this needs is a breathless, portentous voiceover and it could be the ultimate Kiwi episode of VH1’s infamous Behind the Music series.

Fortunately, Julia Parnell is a far more sensible and savvy director than that. From The New Sound of Country through Prime’s excellent Anthems series and last year’s The Chills: The Triumph& Tragedy of Martin Phillipps, she has proven more than adroit at crafting taut and interesting tales and eliciting passion, emotion and unguarded moments from her subjects.

Here, she skilfully weaves together a raft of archival footage with contemporary interviews with all band members past and present: Eli Paewai. Chris Mac. Ji Fraser. Marlon Gerbes. Matiu Walters and Hoani- Matenga. All are given the chance to tell their side of the story, air their past concerns and grievances and bathe in their success.

Parnell also cleverly, to poorly paraphrase one of the band’s hits, ‘‘doesn’t forget their roots’’, taking each of them back (bar Aussie-born latecomer Mac) to their hometowns so they can relate how their interest inmusic began.

This is where some of the most intriguing and revelatory moments play out. Gerbes asks his dad about his early years helping found the Mongrel Mob, while Paewai discusses how he was brought up by his grandparents and aunt.

Singer Walters and lead guitarist Fraser also don’t skirt around the early overuse of alcohol to mask their stagefright, the battle for control of the band and lost opportunities. Walters seems frustrated that they haven’t achieved more international success, seemingly due to a combination of their own issues and record labels mishandling them (which included a German label releasing a Euro house version of Forever). In fact, there’s so much male emotion on display it’s likely to give certain ex-rugby commentators conniptions.

For outsider perspective, Parnell brings in the charismatic duo of Tikki Taane and Stan Walker, The Spinoff’s Duncan Grieve provides the ‘‘their place in New Zealand’s music history’’ spiel and the boys’ former rugby coach Josh Kronfeld adds colour from the early days.

It’s not all perfect, the boxing allusions and allegories come across a little strong, and the lack of mention about opening for Ed Sheeran on his record-breaking 2018 New Zealand tour seems a little strange (Did they enjoy it? Did they learn anything from him?).

And although the 2016 balcony collapse is deftly and sensitively handled, it feels odd to have new footage of injured student Bailley Unahi without talking to her.

Those quibbles aside, the decision to focus on the buildup to the band’s groundbreaking sell out of Western Springs last year seems like a narratively sensible one, even if it now seems so long ago.