The songs that got away

By RUSSELL BAILLIE

After Apra announced its voters' choice of the top 30 New Zealand songs of the past 75 years we invited you to contribute 200 words or less about the song you felt should have been there.

And the entries poured in. Observations then?

TimeOut readers have admirably diverse taste: From the Henchmen's Do the Maelstrom to that favourite of the 50s and beyond A Mother As Lovely As You is quite some leap.

Popular omissions then? Th'Dudes' Bliss, OMC's How Bizarre and Patea Maori Club's Poi E were considered cruelly overlooked by some. Tim and Neil Finn clearly touched many with a large number of songs either in the Enz or together or alone (I See Red, Poor Boy, Together Alone) and Don McGlashan's Anchor Me and Andy all got votes.

So did the Clean, Annie Crummer, Supergroove, Che-Fu, Emma Paki (System Virtue was pretty popular) and Salmonella Dub (For The Love Of It is entry level New Zealand dub, we are told). And Greg Johnson, overlooked by Apra members? You are not forgotten by Herald readers.

But to the following goes a copy of the double disc of New Zealand's top 30 songs as voted by Apra members who bothered to vote.

THE OVERALL WINNER:

In the Neighbourhood, by Sisters Underground.

Graeme Downes regularly pointed out escapism in the APRA top ten.

In The Neighbourhood starts off grounded in reality. First we're taken on a whirlwind tour of Otara, watching young people trying to look hard. But we don't mind them, " 'cos I know my enemy's a white collar criminal", with the tongue-in-cheek emphasis on "white." And even if "every day seems like the same old thing", the lifted-from-Sesame Street chorus of "in the neighbourhood" finds beauty there. But the key lines come in the second verse - "All you wanna do is play/So we rode to the club, to see if we could get it off, even if we don't know how we're gonna make it home." This lyric isn't just escapist; it's about escapism. The song sets up a reality that we have great affection for; then says that we still have to try and escape from this. In fact, one of the Sisters went overseas soon after this was released. They rapped about South Auckland; they could have meant anywhere in the country. The price we pay for being stranded in paradise is that we're always looking for something more. - Brad Luen

FINALISTS IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER

Don't Fight It, Marsha It's Bigger Than Both Of Us, Blam Blam Blam

Long name cracking song. Evokes brooding thoughts, strange rituals and agreements made. A song of romance and of dark feelings. A song that talks of failure in love but never giving up, keeping each other in line and of white circles. With haunting music as memorable and brooding as the lyrics: "I want you to be happy though I'd rather you were still with me" And "Perhaps we can arrange something." A bittersweet love song to rival anything at the time. This song offers a bit more then the lively host of pop songs chosen. I am surprised this didn't make it into the top 10. Although not as successful as the more commercially made songs and driven bands it was still big in July 1981. At a time of Springbok tour riots and Muldoonism it gave something beyond the mire. A perfect follow up to (There Is) No Depression in New Zealand. Better than Don McGlashan's (Mutton Birds) later Dominion Road. When we thinks of NZ songs and bands we think of Split Enz, Bic Runga etc but forget many of the less recognised bands who turned out wonderful songs and we think this was one of them. - Grant Dickson

Anchor Me, Mutton Birds

I was certain this would be top 10. That it missed the top 30 is a crime. Perhaps it was never a BIG hit, but it's still played on the radio seven years on, and it's clear why. Every time it's played I stop and listen. The song's evocation of the cold, unknowable, dangerous yet beckoning sea as metaphor for life, against which the deep blue of his anchoring love is sanctuary, is one of the most effective lyrics I know. The music is just as powerful. The melody of the verses and their spare bass-heavy instrumentation frame the lyrical images of mystery and loneliness, but then a full-electric chorus is the positive answer, grounding the song with a memorable tune. It's immensely satisfying and listenable. For me it's a near-perfect "serious" pop song. I want to hear those pleading "anchor me's" of the verse resolve into the major-chord thankful "anchor me's" of the chorus, every time. If it's not a staple on British and American adult radio, it should be. And it should be top 10 here. - Peter Butterfield

Poi E, Patea Maori

One song that I would have liked to have seen make the top 10 is the early 1980's hit performed by Dalvanius Prime and the Patea Maori Club, that foot stomping, poi swinging classic, Poi E. While I cannot claim to know anything of the story behind either the song, or the performers, I wish to offer my own interpretation of the song. The song was released in the early 1980's, around the time that initiatives such as Te Kohanga Reo were in their young days, and it was a time of rebirth and revitalisation of Maori culture following the years of struggle after the rural-urban drift. The modern upbeat rhythm of Poi E, in tandem with the traditional Maori style of waiata, not to mention those beautiful Maori harmonies, goes along way to capture feelings of vitality and energy, and it comes across as a real celebration of being Maori, feelings that were often swallowed up in the hustle and bustle of the cities. Poi E is an exciting song that, in my opinion, has earned its place in the top echelon of Kiwi music. - Christin Tapsell

For Today, Netherworld Dancing Toys

There's a gap so big in the National Anthems' list that you could drive a truck right through ... The missing entry is, of course, For Today. A cross between a Kiwi Man Alone and an 80s SNAG song (probably before anyone really knew what a SNAG was), this finely-crafted piece out-Morrisseys even Morrissey in terms of cleverly-crafted clumsy lyrics which express the oft-times awkwardness of being earnestly in love. Even the relatively large - for a pop song - brass section is fittingly teenage geeky, but when this song's played at any thirty-somethings' party no one remains unmoved. It starts slowly and gently, builds, creating a fine sense of anticipation until the chorus blasts in. For Today lacks the angst of the darker anthems such as She Speeds, but it is also, to this listener anyway, more real. - Graeme Ball

Leaving the Country, Street Talk

In the wake of the demise of Th'Dudes and Hello Sailor's departure overseas in 1979, Street Talk emerged as the leading band on the pub rock circuit, with a mixed repertoire of original rock songs and blues standards. The standout track of their second album, Battleground of Fun, was Leaving the Country. It was hugely popular live and it showcased Mike Caen's rock edged guitar work contrasting with Hammond Gamble's sultry blues playing. Gamble's vocals were never better and the song told of a lover's affair uncovered. What transformed Leaving the Country from another of Gamble's rock-blues crossover hits into a dark anthem for the times was that it epitomised national feeling. The late 1970s was a time of unprecedented bitterness towards Muldoon's government and disenchantment in New Zealand. Disgruntled emigrants flooded off our shores towards the promised land of Australia. Hammond Gamble's mournful guitar and growling vocals were sadly the perfect accompaniment. Leaving the Country was a career highlight for a talented songwriter and musician but also a keynote to an inglorious chapter in New Zealand's recent history. - Tony Allsop

Can't get Enough, Supergroove

In the mid-90s, a commercial radio listener could be forgiven for thinking that New Zealand songwriting was the sole province of Messrs Finn and Dobbyn. This curious attitude (There Is No Talent in New Zealand?) meant your average teenager was listening to whatever American playlists were showing at the time, while NZ acts were ignored outside student radio. Then came Supergroove, a funked-up outfit from Auckland with guitars, a horn section, a skinny white-boy rapper and a singer who already seemed destined for greatness. Can't Get Enough was the signature tune from the album Traction (the first New Zealand album I, and most teenagers in the 90s, ever owned), and told you everything you needed to know about them in three minutes. The funky bassline, the horn accompaniment, the frankly ludicrous rapping, the inexplicable spoken word break, and the improbable singalong ("so high, can't get over it") all added up to a tune so catchy that the song went number one, deservedly. It was the song that turned me on to New Zealand music and for that it holds a special place on my All Time Top 5 New Zealand Records. Regardless of what APRA says. - Matthew Macfarlane

Shaky Isles, Dave Dobbyn

My greatest musical mentor: my father - a piano player in a 50s HB country dance hall band - died in 65. I was 16. I clung to Dylan's Like a Rolling Stone for solace, only letting go when The Clean picked up the same mantle. Strangely, in 91, insecure in "thermal-land", amidst a mid-life crisis, the passing of the Employment Contracts Act, and enforced redundancy, I came to the realisation I hadn't dealt with the teenage angst associated with his passing; all this on hearing Dave Dobbyn's Shaky Isles - an apt song for the 90s. Written during the process of dealing with the death of his own father, Dave released Shaky Isles as an EP, including an acoustic Dylanesque live set. G.W. McLennan turned Dave onto Dylan during the production of the Go-between's Watershed. The influence showed when they toured together later that year; and when Dave recorded Lament for the Numb. To this day Shaky Isles can still raise a tear; that and Memorial Greenhouse, a track from the EP; just one of the many places my old man took me to see on holiday. If Dave ever wondered who the fool in the audience was screaming for him to play one of his least popular songs - an anthem to the memory of my father, and my youth in Godzone - it was only me. Sorry Dave, and thanks. - Graham Chaplow

Poor Boy, Split Enz

In this bizarre paean - from an "interplanetary Romeo" to his mysterious love somewhere across the galaxy, who "speaks" to him on the radio - is there really an alien being out there reciprocating his love? Or is it merely some outer space phenomenon? It does not matter - their love is doomed, "between us there's too much space." Musically, the song is both inventive and traditional. Fitting in with the exotic lyrics is the use of synthesisers to create an eerie, futuristic atmosphere. Unlike a lot of songs of the period, however, the song avoids a cringeworthy datedness by balancing the cosmic speculation with a solid rhythm section. The thrilling bassline goes up and down like a rollercoaster - the closest one can get to flying while staying on earth - and the drums pound with an echoing effect that adds to the ambiguity within the lyrics. As the young protagonist becomes more and more aggrieved, the tempo builds up until his final wail - "what more can a poor boy do-o-o ... " A timeless extraterrestrial classic. - James Coe

Poi E, Patea Maori

It would be great to see a song using Maori, the other official New Zealand language, in the top 30 songs list. I recommend Poi E by Dalvanius and Patea Maori. Nowhere else in the world will you find a song like this. Maori people do not come from anywhere else they are exclusively Kiwi! And even though lots of people can't understand the words, it doesn't matter. The music, voices and fun atmosphere are able to convey enough. The song demonstrates the determined Kiwi attitude of doin' it for yourself. Patea had to find a way to raise money and morale after the town's freezing works closed. Freezing works closures were a devastating phenomenon in the 80s because most or all of the small town economy relied on them. When I hear the song, I am reminded of these events and how people dealt with them. As far as songwriting goes it is polished. Typical Maori tune with Pakeha beats and noises. The first line catches your attention, there is a great mix of high female voices with chanting male voices and a good old Maori strum underneath. The lifted octave at the end makes for a fantastic finale! - Katharine Ngatai