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The day begins with our eternally burning life-giver, a sun that was coming down with full February force. An event where the free sunscreen being handed out was nectar from empathetic gods. Mother nature had set this gorgeous stage, but would the performers live up to the absolute pearler of a day provided?

The first act we got along to was Ringlets, Tamaki Makaurau post-punk quartet who I was listening to mostly entirely fresh. It’s never an enviable position to be one of the first bands on stage at such a festival, but to the credit of those attending, the crowd was already pretty sizeable even at this, the smaller Harikoa stage, tucked away down an alley we almost missed the first time.

The band sounded bright and punchy, starting a trend of what was generally ace mixing on all the performances I saw, and they had a real energy that defied their place in the lineup. Frontman Leith Towers looks like he’s always having a rollicking time on stage and that was great to see. Good shorts, too.

From there we ran over to the Everything Ecstatic stage to catch the second half of Mokotron, who puts on a brilliantly idiosyncratic mix of EDM and live instrumentation, pulling out multiple woodwind pieces to accentuate the driving rhythms. The crowd loved this, and even more so the call and response segment of “fuck David Seymour!” – simple, but effective. It was a set that perhaps would’ve been more at home under the cover of night with a few more beverages in everyone, but it still popped off here as still more people filtered into Western Springs.

Being strategic and already a little wiped out by the pulsing of the sun and Mokotron in equal parts, we headed back to Harikoa to have a sit down in the shade (a precious commodity, sometimes frustratingly so), and vibe out to Womb, another Flying Nun outfit from Te-Whanganui-a-Tara. It reminded me of sitting on the hill taking a break and vibing to Slowdive at the 2017 festival, and I do mean that as a compliment. Angelic vocals and gossamer vibes on these guys.

Back to Everything Ecstatic and we caught the very tail end of Wisp’s set, enough to make an intrigued future listener of friend Jacob – often one of the positive effects of the busy and varied lineups of big festivals.

Then we split for the first time – the folks I was with going off to see Alex G (whom I love but have seen before and it was...messy), and myself hanging around to see Oklou. She was simply fantastic. Her voice was gorgeous, she integrated the few pieces of live instrumentation really nicely with the majority electronic set, and she had a shy-but-bubbly stage personality that complements her music so well. I really loved this set, felt it stood out as something unique, and it was sneakily my favourite of the day – don’t tell my fellow Geese-heads.

The Dare was next on the Everything Ecstatic stage and I met back up with the gang to watch him. This was the big surprise of the day for me, not that his performance was wild and committed, or that he had some of the loudest tunes of the festival with his huge stacks of Marshall amps, but more that his crowd was so packed and people knew it so well. He has such a perplexing vibe that afterwards a friend I was with was trying to pinpoint how serious (or otherwise) his whole schtick is – I think the fun of it is in not knowing, but he really does strike me as the LCD Soundsystem for a new generation. Sadly, to make sure we got a decent spot to see Geese we left a little early and didn’t catch his crowning banger “Girls”, but I heard it went all the way off.

Now Geese were playing on Harikoa, which brings me to my first (very minor) gripe with the day. Geese may well have been booked before the release of Getting Killed, the album that catapulted them into the forefront of rock culture – which unfortunately meant they were on a stage that was never going to accommodate the size of their rapidly growing audience. The flow of people was so great that staff actually had to police the entrance to the stage area and ensure there wasn’t a crush – they did this well though, and it reflected a refreshing level of preparedness by the festival organisers during a time when many festivals are copping serious flak for not putting that kind of work in.

It was, however, such a gorgeous day and people were in such high spirits that a minor hiccup was never going to kill the buzz that was building for Geese. When expectations are this sky-high for a band, it’s easy to imagine them not quite living up to the billing – but Geese delivered on all fronts.

A stranger I had been chatting with before they played who was unfamiliar (but had heard all about them) tapped my shoulder halfway through the set and yelled “I get it now! And isn’t it great to see people having this much fun!” And there she summed it up perfectly – it was genuinely warming to see people having that much fun together. The individual high point of the day for me was during their closer, Trinidad, where hundreds if not thousands of people were yelling “THERE’S A BOMB IN MY CAR” together. Bizarre, unifying, euphoric.

In preparation for what was going to be the big spectacle of the day, the final two sets over on the Good, Better, Best stage, we sat around to recharge, have a drink, just chill for a bit. In that time multiple groups of lovely strangers came over to chat about this and that, and I take the time to mention this because it’s reflective of how noticeably friendly this iteration of Laneway Was.

And I think that was in no small part down to the headliner. Before that though we caught most of Wolf Alice’s set, who didn’t shrink away from being the preceding act to the drawcard at all. Frontwoman Ellie Rowsell paraded around the stage with such a swagger, and when she pulled out a megaphone it felt like a throwback to the best of the 2000s era femme-rock, something that Karen O might look at and think “fuck yeah”. Loved it.

But the whole time people are pouring into the stadium section of the grounds, just a blur of pink cowboy hats and boots almost vibrating with anticipation. To say Chappell Roan has a dedicated fan base would be underselling it. As the sun sunk slowly behind the stage and created a dazzling pink sunset, it felt like this was a set almost ordained by fate, one that even the sky and the land were doing their best to accommodate.

She was incredible. I won’t lie and say I’m the most qualified person to tell you how good a Chappell Roan set was, but it was one that swayed effortlessly from grandeur to intimacy, from banger to ballad and back again. It was a supermassive pop star performing a set that felt larger than life, and brilliant to see an artist with top billing producing a performance that had the polish, sheen and sheer oomph deserving of that billing.

As people dispersed outward from Western Springs, there was a mood of summery elation that was practically without exception. It had been an event that was warm on the skin, warm on the soul, overwhelmingly welcoming and incredibly safe given the scale of it. I’m only sorry I couldn’t get around more of it, but I heard from fans of every act present that they were incredibly happy with whichever performance they were most looking forward to.

If Laneway had been in a down period for a few years after being rained out in 2023, it was certainly back in force this year, at least from everything I saw. Just a fantastic and affirming day out.

Credit: Jakira Brophy (@jakira.art)

Credit: Jakira Brophy (@jakira.art)

Credit: Jakira Brophy (@jakira.art)

Credit: Jakira Brophy (@jakira.art)

Credit: Jakira Brophy (@jakira.art)

Credit: Jakira Brophy (@jakira.art)

Ōtepoti avant-rock superstars High Dependency Unit (HDU) have emerged for the first time in 9 years, their Dunedin show being # 2 of 6 shows.

The night was warmish and drizzly, Dropkicks was packed. The crowd was mostly over 40, all long time family, friends and fans: it felt like a big reunion. Cecil Turbine opened, looking all busy behind his laptop and gigantic synth with a thousand patch cables hanging out of it.

He played for about half an hour? Before HDU front man Tristan Dingemans came out in a slight huff, informing the crowd the amps hadn’t been turned on and we’d have to wait another 20 minutes. By this point it was nearly shoulder to shoulder right to the back wall.

Playing for close to two hours, they alternated between ambient soundscapes and big, epic riffs. It was so loud. Before they started I saw the drummer Constantine Karlis tell the bouncer up the front to go get ear plugs: HDU are known for that ‘in your bones’ kind of loud. The overarching dynamics of the show made it feel like an ever evolving, holistic thing from start to finish. They stopped to switch guitars or tune and have a yarn now and again.

Tristan’s performance could only be described as a shamanistic ritual of catharsis. Sweaty and veiny, his conviction was raw. The crowd was totally entranced too: lots of eyes-closed, meditative swaying and smiling. Karlis had us all hypnotised and Niel Phillips kept it locked in with his steady and true bass playing. Mid-way through they played Crow by Shellac, in tribute to the late Steve Albini. Tristan thanked Steve for the time they spent with him and for “changing their lives” (paraphrasing).

HDU are amazing and that show was a total sonic experience, can thoroughly recommend trying to catch this rare beast at some point on their current tour; you’ve got until the end of the month!

Credit: Liam Hoffman

Credit: Liam Hoffman

Credit: Liam Hoffman

Credit: Liam Hoffman

Credit: Liam Hoffman

Honestly, there is nothing more enjoyable than watching a crowd of mostly inebriated patrons try and bob and sway to a ¾ rhythm. And as it often is at the Crown, rhythm and movement was the name of the night. With a fully packed out crowd eager to vibe as much as the space allowed, the bands involved absolutely obliged. 

Opening up were Dale Kerrigan, and credit to the scene, the room was already packed. Armed with a handful of new pieces of material and the same raucous energy, they set the tone and they set it loud and fuzzy. Their new EP was sounding great, with some real evolution going on, and by the end of their set the room was already full of that warm buzz that makes for a great platform for the headliners. Job done, and job done well.

Outside for a quick inhalation-of-your-choice break, and the weather was as feisty as the sounds. Few complaints here and there but for me, the perfect pairing, like a cold plunge into a sauna into a cold plunge. Special shout out here to the bloke who spent 10 minutes pitching the first 10 seconds of his new Batman trilogy. “He’s 6’4”, but he’s wearing the trunks”. Ace.

Back into the cauldron for Cruelly, a grungy Te Whanganui a Tara-based quartet with a history of gigging with Pearly* and Dale Kerrigan - first time in our corner of the country though, and what better venue to cut your teeth on. Possibly just edging out the other two bands as the most 90s tinged of the lot, they brought their own flavour with some gorgeous harmonies and some much appreciated switch ups in their time signatures. 

They had the crowd on a string, sometimes held loosely and then tautened within the same minute. With many patrons a few pints in, the timing of the collective bobbing and swaying often threatened to fall apart completely, only to be roped right back into line by a blazing chorus section. A real ebb and flow to their tunes, reminiscent of the best Hole tracks. Major shout out to their rhythm section.

A quick mass exodus out into the elements once more for the sweat to melt into the rain, and then an even quicker pile back in when the tuning sounds heralded the arrival of Pearly*.

And what an arrival. I may be running out of synonyms for fuzzy here towards the end but their set was like a hug of warm static. Tight in performance, loose in affect, it was everything the crowd needed to properly shrug off the dust of their week. Standing in the centre of the crowd I could visibly see tension rolling off of people’s shoulders as they sunk into the sonic haze. 

All in all a credit to the bands and a credit to the sound engineering, just a resoundingly toasty gig to spite the wind and the rain. Another jewel in the Crown!

Photo credits https://dunedinsound.com/gigs/

Every Carti release generates vigorous emotional responses in the online hip-hop world akin to an American election cycle. So I thought it’s best to play it safe and let MUSIC sit for a while before thinking about it. MUSIC has been out for a month now, the hate/hype cycle has died down and nuance can reign for this long-awaited album.

The evolution of Play-Station game consoles tracks quite well with the evolution in Playboi Carti’s originality and influence with each album release. Carti’s self-titled was weird, playful, colourful and full of simple glitchy trap beats (thank you Pierre Bourne) just as the PS1 had lovable, low-res, low-polygonal models and settings. Just as the PS2 escaped that lovable jank and flexed its graphical muscle, refining its stories and series, Die Lit revamped Carti’s style, as the Atlanta rapper went more experimental with his flows, the instrumentals were harsher/sugary. 

Die Lit bought Carti a lot of attention and unfortunately, due to rabid fans leaking all his music, Carti had to revamp his sound for 2020’s Whole Lotta Red (the PS3). This marked an era-defining pivot from fun and sometimes punky saccharine bassy trap to the synthy, gravely compressed stylings of rage music. After listening to MUSIC several painstaking times, it’s technically an evolution, just as the PS3 revolutionised 720p gaming and PS4 standardised 1080p. But a leap in graphics feels meaningless when art direction, character and consistency are either absent or subpar, which is pretty much how MUSIC plays out.

There’s a lot to like about MUSIC. Carti really dives into his trap R&B bag with tracks like RATHER LIE ft. The Weekend, FINE SHIT & BACKDOOR ft. Kendrick Lamar with beaucoup success. These tracks really showcase the versatility of Carti’s new strained, breathy style while his guests deliver shining performances. Much like a fly searching for a window, Lamar’s VV’s on your decolleté hook on BACKDOOR is still buzzing around my cranium.

Carti’s inclusion of Atlanta DJ Swamp Izzo to yell SWAMP IZZO and CARTI all over this thing is reminiscent of Beyonce sampling black queer figures on Renaissance for texture’s sake. Just as their confident disembodied voices would yell cunty or honey over some of the most vogue-inducing dance music you’ll ever hear, SWAMP IZZO ADDS A DEAFENING JE NE SAIS QUOI TO ANYTYHING CARTI SAYS, VERBAL OR OTHERWISE.

IZZO’s inclusion, although grating at times, bolsters the darker 70% of MUSIC. He effortlessly worms his way into the listeners brain on tracks like the Metro Boomin’ produced bling-era throwback RADAR, where Carti’s new strained and deep voices contrast with repeated bombastic ad-libds of SWAMP & CARTI in the foreground. It’s tracks like RADAR or the low-key, 808 heavy TOXIC (with Skepta) or the ear-splitting, bouncy and guitar-backed CRANK where the taringa feels most blessed. COCAINE NOSE with its over compressed synth line smothering this bizarre string sample with these overblown drum machine noises is what MUSIC should sound like – it’s a genuinely new Carti sound.

MUSIC’s main downfall comes from aimless songs, lacklustre guest performances, and a bloated tracklist/runtime. Who is listening to an hour 16 minutes, over 30 songs, of late-stage Carti? Well regrettably a great deal of people - the point remains, this thing is too long, and it wouldn’t have to be if there was any quality control. WE NEED ALL DA VIBES (ft. Young Thug & Ty Dolla $ign) should be on Thug’s 2019 LP So Much Fun, not here. The Carti-less Twin Trim sees nanged-up Lil Uzi Vert squander a cute beat, meanwhile JUMPIN has one Carti verse and Uzi dominating the lions share for no discernible reason.

If those songs were bad or unnecessary then what is CHARGE DEM HOES A FEE ft. Future & Travis Scott. These three are experts in their field, yet this song is so banal and tedious, the vocals are spaced badly, and it just goes onnnnnnnn. On TRIM Future has energy, yet here he’s just like moaning and grunting in autotune while Travis is literally wallpaper. In fact, Travis is wallpaper on all four songs he appears on. It’s bamboozling Carti didn’t include his acolytes and label signees Ken Carson and Destroy Lonely but can let Lil Uzi, Travis Scott and Future meander through nearly a third of the album.   

MUSIC is remarkable from an artist like Carti because it proves he isn’t a creature solely composed of hype just yet. He still has gas in the tank, even if the low-reserve light is blinking graciously. If you told anyone 10 years ago an album like MUSIC would be #1 and have its entire track list chart on the top 100, you’d be a laughingstock.  How an album as unappealing and strange (speaking in relative terms here mate) like MUSIC can pull that off is quite an accomplishment. Playboi Carti is experimenting with two things on MUSIC: what popular trap can sound like, and fan patience. Although his fans have forgiven the 5-year delay and numerous album release fake-outs, I cannot forgive Carti for putting out an album that, despite the praise, A-list guests, and glorious compression, feels like a flat tire when listened to as an album.

I have heard the gospel and its name is IVY…

As a newcomer to the Ōtepoti gig scene, I am cutting my teeth on new live venues often these days. This was my first experience with Errick’s in any capacity, and there were some negative rumblings about the venue passing my ears earlier in the day. Shortly after entering and taking in the scene that was set by a stage with upwards of twenty chairs for orchestra members, a friend said that ‘it [was] a shame that this is happening here and not in some grand church or something’.

By the end of the gig, IVY and the Dunedin Youth Orchestra had proven that any space can be a place of absolute reverence and awe, bordering on the holy, if the creative will is there to make it so.

At first, there was a palpable and slightly nervous anticipation from what was a sold-out crowd. It’s not every day you see a local band play with a full-strength orchestra behind them. And it was a youth orchestra. Dangerous territory, some might say.

One song in, and any fears that were out there in the audience were assuaged and then some. They could already feel the power of the thing that was about to wash over them, the moment in a band’s career they were about to experience alongside them. 

IVY are the real deal. It was entirely possible this sort of occasion would rattle them, the pressure of being the five lads in front of a collective of twenty would cause them to shrink and not flourish. Instead, they commanded the stage with a swagger, a love for the craft, and a healthy joie de vivre. 

Locked in would be underselling it. Every member entirely in service of the song, a collective triumph. Jesse’s vocals were undoubtedly immaculate, but to highlight any one element of the performance would be remiss of me, because there wasn’t a note out of place, literally or figuratively. 

And while the whole night could have been entirely about IVY ‘the band’, and in some sense, it was, the beauty of the event was that in another sense it wasn't just about IVY at all. For a solid hour on stage, this band was “IVY and the Dunedin Youth Orchestra”. One whole.

When the members were joining the stage, a few of us in the audience were lightly joking about the presence of the bassoon player, and what role he would play in the whole piece. In hindsight, he played as pivotal a role as any. Every single horn note, every single vibration of a string, every single rattle of an egg-shaker or ting of a triangle was crafted to service the sound. 

An absolute credit to the arrangement and composition of Maddy Parkins-Craig and Anthony Ritchie, and an equally great reflection on all of the young musicians on stage. 
A shout out is owed to the audio team at Errick’s too, as despite any misgivings I might have heard, they did an incredible job wrangling what was an immense amount of sound. 

By the end of the event, there was that pleasant sense of giddy shell-shock in the audience. Had we just witnessed the genesis of something? Time will tell for IVY, but after hearing the extra gravitas that the horns, strings, and pipes can lend to their songs, I don’t doubt they’ve just walked away with a plethora of inspiration for future music.

As I said on Radio One during the DPAG Late Breakfast the following day, I could ramble for hours about this gig. But it is best just to say I was totally floored. And I am now a believer.