Bailter Space, mid-1987. From left, Glenda Bills, Alister Parker and Hamish Kilgour. Photo / NZ Herald
Bailter Space, mid-1987. From left, Glenda Bills, Alister Parker and Hamish Kilgour. Photo / NZ Herald
Bailter Space – Nelsh Bailter Space
Hamish Kilgour was undoubtedly one of the fundamental figures in the development and growth of Flying Nun during its early years. Between his bands, The Clean and The Great Unwashed, and his work assisting Roger Shepherd with the company, Kilgour’s mark was allover Flying Nun. But by 1985, that influence started to wane. Gary Cope had become more involved on the administrative side of the company and Kilgour saw his role being sidelined. On the music front, there was also little on the horizon after the collapse of The Great Unwashed. Kilgour briefly played with Ross Humphries on a project dubbed the Twin Guitar Orchestra (also billed as Southern Temperance League and Blue Dolphins). They headlined at the opening of the Zetland Hotel in June 85, but nothing got off the ground beyond a few live appearances. Kilgour largely retreated from his work at Flying Nun or any serious musical endeavours. Instead, he focused on finding work where he could make a real income and took a job as an advertising copywriter. Then, ironically just after Radio With Pictures aired a “nostalgia night” featuring The Clean, Kilgour had a chance encounter that would pull him back into the fray.
Hamish Kilgour photographed at home for Rip It Up article, early 1983. Photo / Alec Bathgate
“[I] just bumped into Hamish one day on the street,” was how Alister Parker later described the serendipitous beginnings of Bailter Space. Parker was a former member of renowned titans of loud The Gordons, who had also receded into the musical wilderness by the mid-1980s. After the release of The Gordons’ self-titled debut album in 1981, Parker had abruptly quit the group. He disappeared from the spotlight for several years until he ran into Kilgour. “He’d stopped playing too and we started to work on some material together, it was a really good time,” said Parker. “We played together for years just by ourselves in practice rooms.”
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The two quickly clicked during these experimental jam sessions. “[We were] like two threads coming together,” said Kilgour. “We played around for about a year, just rehearsing ... We had a real affinity, working together and creating ideas.’” Neither Parker nor Kilgour were particularly interested in exploring what they had done with their previous groups. Although very loud and accented with Parker’s unique guitar tone, the new duo’s sound was typified by Krautrock-esque textures and almost danceable grooves. “Alister used a lot of different guitar tunings and had an experimental approach, [while] my contribution was the shaping of the songs and the songwriting,” said Kilgour.
After the extended period of songwriting in the practice room, the duo turned their attention to putting together a live version of their then-unnamed project. To take it to the stage, Kilgour and Parker recruited Glenda Bills, formerly of We Meet Under Tables, to play keyboards. A debut performance was booked at the Carlton Hotel opening for The Chills on 30 January 1987, still without a name to put on the poster. Just days before the show, Parker settled on Nelsh Bailter Space. “It’s just some words that Alister came up with that sounded good together,” said Kilgour. “It
was two days before our first gig and we needed a name.” When asked a few years later about the origins of the name, Parker suggested it was intended as something both intangible and constantly in flux. “I think the words are like an idea but the idea is hard to pin down. It definitely suits the music and it is a sort of an idea.”
By mid-87, a fourth member was also added – Kilgour’s old bandmate Ross Humphries, who was tasked with playing bass. As they clocked considerable time onstage throughout 1987, Nelsh Bailter Space morphed into a tight and powerful act. Early performances suffered from a “sometimes overbearing dirginess” according to Bruce Russell, but by the Flying Nun Christmas party the band was “one mean dance band, with their own instantly memorable ‘groove’ that carries all their best songs unstoppably from your head down to your feet”.
Slowly, the Nelsh part of the name disappeared in favour of just Bailter Space. It was, however, retained for the title of the band’s first record. Bailter Space went north to Auckland to record their debut EP in mid-1987. Six songs were selected, five penned by the band and a sixth, I’m In Love With These Times, a resurrected Clean song that dated back to 1979. The other five originals consisted of a contrasting mix of propulsive synth and grinding guitar best summed up by two reviews for the EP. Bruce Russell, in his write-up for Alley Oop, noted that “five out of six tracks on this EP will get you grooving down very nicely, either at home or (if there was any justice in this world) at any disco in the country”. Debbi Gibbs noted in her review that “Parker’s guitar gets scratched, fuzzboxed and distorted in a virtuoso display of controlled cacophony”.
Bailter Space promotional shot for Nelsh Bailter Space. Clockwise from top, Glenda Bills, Hamish Kilgour, Alister Parker and Ross Humphries. Photo / Flying Nun
Nelsh arrived in shops in early 1988, sporting a mysterious cover of an old projector. “It’s a 1930s Arc Cinema projector, a Tru Trim, “ said Kilgour. “It came out of an old theatre in Christchurch that was being demolished – Alister’s got it at home as part of his furniture.” Even though the EP barely made a dent in the charts, hitting #39 for one week, critics gravitated to it right away. “Where it clicks, like New Man, it equates to something like that soft, yummy universe they were talking about,” was the verdict in Rip It Up. Paul Collett called Nelsh “an incredibly loud, powerful record ... may not stand up to some of Bailter Space’s live performances but it is a strong, full-sounding record”.
In terms of scheduling and promotional roll-out, things went abnormally smoothly and quickly with Flying Nun for Bailter Space. They toured, recorded and released a record in relatively short order with no hiccups. 1988 started out with similar momentum. The band secured a QEII Arts Council grant of $5000, sponsored by Just Juice, to make their first album, and received funds to film a music video for New Man, which aired on Radio With Pictures at the start of May. However, both Bills and Humphries had left the group in April. With album sessions looming, Parker and Kilgour acted quickly to recruit someone new. Luckily, they had an ideal replacement at the studio where they were due to record – John Halvorsen. Parker’s old Gordons bandmate had set up Writhe Studios in Wellington during his time playing with The Skeptics and was convinced to join Bailter Space. Halvorsen took a little time to study up on the songs, and debuted at the Subway in Christchurch in mid-April. The next month, work began at Writhe to record the band’s debut album, Tanker.
David and Hamish Kilgour of The Great Unwashed, 1983. Photo / Alec Bathgate
It wasn’t long before Hamish Kilgour followed Bills and Humphries out the door. In July 88, Bailter Space were set to jet off to America to play at the New Music Seminar in New York, with a co-headline gig at historic venue CBGBs with The Bats. However, in the lead-up to the shows, Hamish had been quietly discussing a reunion of The Clean when he met up with his brother David and Robert Scott in London. When Hamish finished the New York shows with Bailter Space, he decided to stay behind. He had just come out the other side of a rough relationship break-up and had sold his house. It was a good time to get away and travel, with opportunities for the re-formed Clean just around the corner.
For Alister Parker, there was never any question about whether to continue on as the sole remaining original member of Bailter Space. When he and Halvorsen returned to New Zealand, they once again enlisted help from an old bandmate, this time The Gordons’ drummer Brent McLachlan. McLachlan was already involved in Writhe with Halvorsen and had helped engineer and produce Tanker, so the fit was perfect. This version of Bailter Space would remain solid for decades to come and became the version most familiar to listeners.
Edited extract from Needles and Plastic: Flying Nun Records, 1981–1988, by Matthew Goody (Auckland University Press, $70), which is out on November 10. The book is listed as one of Pitchfork’s best music books of 2022.
