One Is Always Heading Somewhere
by Womb
The sibling trio Womb – singer-guitarist Charlotte “Cello” Forrester, keyboardist-guitarist Haz Forrester, and drummer Georgette Brown – emerged out of Pōneke Wellington almost fully formed and have been consistent and productive. This is their third album since a self-titled debut EP a decade ago. Their stately and unhurried dreamscape pop has a cloudy, effortless sense of melody, which can be utterly beguiling.
As an interpretive singer, Forrester can deliver with a disarming fragility (Unto), conveys a gentle ennui and yearning (Slip and Angels) and manages to engage with as much grounded imagery from the natural world as memories and dreams within an ethereal soundscape, evident in the leisurely way she draws out the lines on the hurting lyrics of Just Like Waves.
At times, Womb evoke a pocket edition of Sigur Rós’s cinematic scope, or the Cocteau Twins as filtered through a guitar-pop band like The Sundays, offering a warming balm of melodies and walking pace beats.
Despite the songs having been gathered over the years and in different locations, Womb have a discreet signature sound which binds the more dream-pop material (the gentle drone of the acoustic-framed Take with Ben Woods) to almost tactile, personal pieces like the mysterious and desperate Sometimes. As much a cohesive mood piece for quiet consideration as an album of strategically different songs, One is Always Heading Somewhere confirms that the journey they are on is one worth joining, and that “somewhere” is probably less important.
Te Rā
by Alien Weaponry
Leader in the ear-damaging field of righteous, politicised rage is Alien Weaponry, another local three-piece which includes siblings; the de Jong brothers Lewis (guitarist/singer) and drummer Henry, with bassist Tūranga Morgan-Edmonds. Their magisterial debut album Tū and the slightly lesser follow-up Tangaroa were fiery stakes in the ground, addressing Māori history, colonial oppression and contemporary marginalisation.
When political messages are welded to this kind of metal – a full-throated roar with the guttural sound of Satan growling in your ear – the sonic power and emotional intensity confirm it’s the genre for indignant fury.
Alien Weaponry again deploy a take-no-prisoners approach, opening with the fast’n’furious, bilingual Crown. In English: “The system doesn’t want you here, saying you’re the ones to blame.” And translated from te reo Māori: “the crown treats us unfairly, can we heal generations of trauma?” The pounding, chanting Mau Moko in te reo celebrates the power, mana and importance of moko, 1000 Friends plays to a more familiar and universal sentiment in metal (“Deconstruction of social norms, communication without a voice. Defenceless to combat the wave from society that keeps you a slave”) and a standout is the phenomenal Tama-nui-te-rā which brings punishing metal, te reo and haka into a celebration of Māui and a war party slowing the sun: “We weave the enchanted rope, I wield the enchanted jawbone.”
There’s also some of the genre’s requisite self-loathing in the English language Myself to Blame (“regret is all I feel inside this twisted mind”) and Hanging by a Thread (“feels like no one’s gonna miss you when you’re fucking dead”). There’s wrath and reckoning in this album which many will find intimidating, musically and lyrically. But you have to admire Alien Weaponry’s sheer visceral force and passion, even as you duck for cover.
Dime
by Serebii
The 2023 album Inside by multi-instrumentalist and expat producer Callum Mower (aka neo-soul, folksy singer/songwriter Serebii) found an interesting place between ambient music, the chill-out room and a kind of subdued and soulful folktronica.
He has said he draws inspiration from Aldous Harding and his frequent collaborator has been local soul-jazz artist Arjuna Oakes.
Although he has moved back to this country from London, he is increasingly connecting with a global audience. Recent PR out of the US said he was suggested listening for those who like James Blake, Michael Kiwanuka and Sampha. All good reference points to have.
For this light’n’laidback sophomore album, Serebii invites in Carla Camilleri (of local band Recitals), Tessa Dillon of Mystery Waitress (aka Tessa De Lyon) and Leith Sye Towers who co-wrote Verrans Corner here, which is more dreamily romantic than that busy intersection on Auckland’s North Shore. All slip discreetly into Serebii’s sound design of soothing and subtle sounds which support the vocals, his own style being featherweight and intimate.
The Randan, however, has his grandfather reading an autobiographical piece about the confusion of being an outsider adolescent and has Serebii’s spare and shimmering ambient backdrop. It’s interesting but doesn’t bear many repeat plays.
The overall atmosphere is of polished, restful folk-influenced electronica with soft Latin rhythms and acoustic guitar (Goji, Telling Lies) and a hint of tropicalia languor (Feet for Pegs). For sophisticated late nights and candlelight.
These albums are available digitally and on vinyl; Alien Weaponry is also on CD.
Womb play Meow, Wellington, April 5; Space Academy, Christchurch, April 11. Serebii and band play Meow, Wellington, April 4; 18A Gallery, Nelson, April 5; Double Whammy, Auckland, April 10.
