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Lontalius, 2019 (Photo: Oliver Latimer)
Lontalius, 2019 (Photo: Oliver Latimer)

Pop CultureJune 28, 2019

Interview: Lontalius on coming back home to find his sound

Lontalius, 2019 (Photo: Oliver Latimer)
Lontalius, 2019 (Photo: Oliver Latimer)

Lontalius’ new single ‘Make My Dreams Come True’ is out today. To commemorate its arrival, Matthew McAuley spoke to Eddie Johnston about music, life, and the transient nature of fandom.

The last time The Spinoff spoke to multidisciplinary Wellington musician Eddie Johnston, just a few weeks off exactly a year ago, he was an artist in a period of relative flux. Having relocated his life and practice to a Los Angeles apartment following the 2016 release of I’ll Forget 17, the debut album from his guitar pop project Lontalius, he’d found himself reexamining what he wanted from his musical career. 

“My dream for coming [to LA] was… to write pop music”, he told Henry Oliver. “But when I got here I realised that wasn’t my vibe.” And while that interview coincided with the release of his first new music in two years, the double single ‘I Wanted Him / That Includes You’, it also came shortly after his release from Partisan Records, the New York label which had released his first record and were slated to release his second. 

The double-single was followed by ‘Optimistic’ in October, with early 2019 also seeing the release of b-side and Soundcloud loose-cut compilation Surrender, but throughout Johnston remained relatively tight-lipped about future plans and upcoming releases. Today marks the release of ‘Make My Dreams Come True’, now officially the second single from his upcoming second album, and almost certainly the high-water mark of his musical career to date. 

It’s a song which deserves to be heard by the widest audience possible; a genuinely radio-ready guitar pop ballad whose structure borrows more from Kraftwerk than it does Coldplay, for its first two-and-a-half-minutes an expertly constructed exercise in progression by repetition and gentle, almost imperceptible addition – like The 1975’s ‘Give Yourself a Try’, if they’d been paying homage to U2 instead of Joy Division – before a stadium-sized climax which features an impassioned piano contribution from Kanye West affiliate Mr. Hudson.

Now based back in New Zealand, Johnston is again living in the town in which he was raised and from whose early-2010s DIY scene he built a craft and a following. He’d be forgiven for harbouring a degree of bitterness at his situation, but speaking a few days before the release of this latest work, Eddie sounds convincingly content with where how things have turned out. 

The following conversation has been condensed and edited for clarity and brevity.

So this is the second single from the next record, was it always the plan that ‘I Wanted Him / That Includes You’ wouldn’t be on there? 

Actually ‘Optimistic’ was the first song I finished, probably a couple of months before ‘I Wanted Him’ came out, but as those songs came together, it just started to make sense as a way to release music for the first time in three years. Just as like a re-introductory thing. I love both those songs, but for the album I was going for a more concise thing, I didn’t want it to feel bloated.

What happened with Partisan? Was it just a breakdown in the relationship?

There was kind of a breakdown in the relationship, but there wasn’t like, any real drama or anything. It just kind of fell apart on both sides. I wasn’t really happy with how things were going, and then they weren’t either — I mean it’s like a transitional period for all music at the moment right? Music’s getting released differently and people are making it differently.

They’re an indie label and their more traditional releases are indie bands that would go in and record for two weeks and everything’s finished, and then they’re touring. And I kind of had none of that. I was working on the album for two years, I’m not delivering, it was all just a bit weird. 

I think the funny thing is that, like, around that time I was like, “Oh I don’t want to be working on the album, I just want to be releasing songs” but then eventually it all came together.

So in that period, did you have versions of things that you were taking to them that they weren’t into, or was it just that you weren’t yet making the album then because you didn’t know what it was going to be?

Yeah, I think it just wasn’t coming together. There was a lot of music, and a lot of different versions of songs, and they were actually super helpful. Most of the original songs and stuff from the original sessions with [producer and songwriter] Om’mas Keith were super ambient; just long, no real drums anywhere, the songwriting was pretty loose. 

And Tim at the label was very sweet in just telling me that the way I was talking about what I wanted out of music and the way the music was sounding weren’t matching, you know?

Because I wanted to play great shows and have energy on stage, and play with a band, but then I’m making these eight-minute long ambient things; it just wasn’t working.

But at the same time, as you say, the ways that the music industry is shifting are feeding into performance norms, right? Like the Lontalius shows you’ve played recently with the band have been quite traditional, straight-up indie band shows.

But then you have someone like a Frank Ocean, as a very obvious example – he’s someone who can and does make songs in a more traditional format at times, but the way he performs those songs can be quite fluid.

I think with the Frank Ocean thing – because obviously he’s a big influence on me – and also, like, everyone my age – a big thing I thought about while making this album was, like, he’s incredible and you know, Blond and Endless are amazing, but he’s able to do that because he’s already put in the hours; he’s already released the perfect pop songs, you know? I felt like I hadn’t put in my work yet, to be able to do that super indulgent album.

And so the work that you did with Om’mas and those sessions, does that still form a part of this record?

I mean it’s definitely not as pronounced as it used to be, but it is definitely the sonic base of the album. Most of the songs came from sketches and stuff that I did with him, and I can feel his influence on it.

And so with ‘Make My Dreams Come True’, you’ve got Mr Hudson on there, and it was co-written by Roy Blair?

Well, me and Roy made the original instrumental one night. 

Was that just the kind of situation you found yourself in in LA? Was Roy just someone that you knew?

I knew Roy from around, and he was doing a lot of stuff with Kevin Abstract at the time, so we were mutuals through that. We just started hanging out and working on each other’s music quite a lot. With ‘Make My Dreams’, I remember we made it and, I think because we were talking a lot about pop music and wanting to be better at pop music, we spent hours trying to fit it to the structure of ‘Complicated’ by Avril Lavigne.

And for whatever reason, that just totally killed the song, and I didn’t think about it for months, until I found it again later and decided it could be a good song.

For me it’s almost like ‘Give Yourself a Try’, like it’s got that same structure – the big repetitive central riff that everything else builds around – but the actual sound is so different.

Was there anything like that which influenced how you put it together, or were you just trying to make something as simple as possible?

I guess because I was in LA, I was like, “Oh, this is a catchy thing, this sketch of this song, I could put in a big chorus and take it to my publisher, and get whatever pop star to sing this.” And, you know, I really tried, but the core and the truth of the song just wasn’t there, you know?

So the chorus of the song now isn’t really a chorus, there’s no big melody or whatever, it’s just a nice little thing.

I like that aspect of it, that it does feel the whole time like it’s building to a big anthemic chorus that doesn’t happen – I like how that tension doesn’t release how you’d expect it to.

That’s something that I’ve done before in different ways, so I think maybe if the song was, like, bigger, I’d be like “Oh, this isn’t a Lontalius song; this doesn’t work.”

But to me it never felt like it wasn’t.

I think when most people begin a project, they have an idea of what they want that project to be. But you’ve been making music as Lontalius basically forever – like, since well before your adult life. Has it been difficult having to refocus the work while it’s something that people are already invested in?

I’ll Forget 17 is a record that you made when you were a teenager, and now you’ve had this kind of seismic change to your life; is it hard to navigate the way that you articulate that, while also considering that there are people that already have strong feelings associated with your music?

I think I’m quite fortunate in terms of the audience, that I never got quite big enough that it became, like, a viral thing or whatever, I’m kind of in the sweet spot of having an audience that I hope actually cares about me, but they’re not expecting more of the same.

That’s an interesting thing about the way that fame can work these days, right? Like it can still be quite toxic, but for a certain type of artist – artists like Brockhampton, or Roy Blair, or Clairo – there’s a level of personal investment from fans where they’re really invested in their favourite artists’ work, and they’re really supportive, but they don’t want to impose on them.

I’ve kind of described I’ll Forget 17 as a kind of ‘coming-of-age’ record, but I think, because of how personal the lyrics are and everything, that record is so connected with my own personal life as well. And I think that’s the same with Roy, and Brockhampton and all of that. If people are a fan of you, they want to be on that journey with you growing up; trying new things. It’s not necessarily about one specific album or one specific song, you kind of buy into the whole thing.

It’s like a Brockhampton fan – they see themselves in Brockhampton, you know? 

I also wanted to ask about Surrender. Because obviously that’s a collection of loosies, but it’s also the first ‘official’ release of ‘Sleep Thru Ur Alarms’, which is still probably one of your better known songs. Was that release something you’d always wanted to do, or was it something you were avoiding doing?

It was kind of a long process. I think I’ve gone through phases of being like, “Oh I want this on Spotify, people need to have it in their libraries,” and then I’ve also had times where I’ve been like “I never want it out there, it’s not representative of me as an artist.”

But I think the timing worked out, and the way that people use streaming services shifted. Like I put it on Soundcloud in, like 2014 and that was fine by itself then, but now people don’t really use Soundcloud in the same way.

I think now felt like the right time because I’m confident in my new music, and the album is coming out this year, so if I put this out now I have nowhere else to go but up, personally. If everyone hates the album that’s a real shame, but it never felt like – I knew ‘Sleep Thru Ur Alarms’ was going to be popular because people already like it, but I need to be sure that I can make music that I’m proud of, and just keep going forward from it. 

Has being in Wellington changed things for you? Like do you feel like the album had a different shape in your mind before you moved back? 

I think moving back just gave me some clarity about what I want to be doing. Because LA is just so intense, there’s so much opportunity and so many ideas, you’re going to see bands and everything, meeting different people. It just feels like there’s so many different paths you can take. 

I knew what songs I wanted [for the album] and what songs I’ll save for later. And especially playing the shows with a band here last year, then doing a short tour of Europe by myself, and then doing Laneway as well with the band, it felt like Lontalius really came together as a project over those few months, over the summer. I don’t feel like moving anywhere, but I want to be travelling and spending time in places making music. It’s been beneficial for my mental health to be here. So that helps.

Keep going!
Just like that one shot that everybody loved and then hated in that GoT finale!
Just like that one shot that everybody loved and then hated in that GoT finale!

Pop CultureJune 28, 2019

The Handmaid’s Tale recap: Handmaid June goes to Washington

Just like that one shot that everybody loved and then hated in that GoT finale!
Just like that one shot that everybody loved and then hated in that GoT finale!

Aunt Lydia’s pumped, Fred’s pumped, we’re all pumped for this week’s episode of The Handmaid’s Tale. Tara Ward recaps episode six of season three.

The Handmaid’s Tale loves a good prayer situation, and this week we had them coming out our ears. Let us bow down before the TV gods and pray this is the episode that gives June all the answers she needs, that Nichole remains safe in Canada, and that the Waterfords come to their senses about almost everything. Or, as June puts it, “may they both get hit by a fucking truck”. Forever and ever, Amen.

The Waterford household were on the move, travelling to Washington DC for a week of public prayer as part of their ‘Save Nichole from Democracy’ campaign. Washington DC is a city that’s officially hit the ‘hardcore’ level on the dystopian hellhole ranking system, where handmaids must stand in designated areas, men and women ride separate escalators, and some women are permanently silenced. Yep, handmaids’ mouths are wired shut, their lower faces covered with cloth.

Oh, the horror. Take me back to the Lawrences’ basement and chuck on some Leo Sayer disco hits, ASAP.

No joke here, this is just creepy af.

But a change is as good as a holiday, and the excitement of the trip quickly goes to everyone’s heads. “I’m pumped!” says Aunt Lydia, who loves an escalator more than she loves a fully-charged cattleprod. “That’s what they used to say! Are you pumped, dear?” Forget about June, what about old mate Fred?  “We’re off like a herd of dusty turtles,” Fred reckons, and never a truer word has been spoken.

Team Waterford stay at the home of Commander Winslow, a powerful man who lives in a ginormous mansion with his gazillion kids. Sure, one or two is fine in these crazy times, but six is just plain greedy, you arseholes. “Are they all yours?” Serena asks. “Who else’s would they be?” Mrs Winslow replies. Where’s that fucking truck, when you need it?

I know it’s dystopia, but that is some utopia-level lighting.

Things are tense. Serena suspects Fred has his own political motivations for this trip, while June’s absolutely steaming that Serena’s gone back on her promise to give Nichole a better life. Their time in Washington is one orchestrated show after another: stand here, look here, pray that we shall always remain this pumped about living in hell. All they want is for Canada to send back the fruit of someone else’s loins, so this whole mess can go away quietly.

Speaking of going away quietly, look who else jumped aboard the escalator ride to Hades.

Suspicious Nick.

“Nice girl like you, in a place like this?” Nick asks June, but for crying out loud, now is not the time. Nor is it the time when you’re having a sneaky pash in the Winslow’s bushes, or when you’re being sent to the war front. Gilead is a fun-free zone, and someone needs to tell Fred to put that stuffed lion away immediately. No fun allowed while women’s lips are sewn shut, thank you very much.

Don’t trust the craftsmanship of that lion, honestly.

Fred’s campaign seems to be working, and the Swiss government agrees to act as a neutral negotiating party. In a shock move, they ask to speak to June alone. “I am the child’s mother,” June tells them. “I want her to stay in Canada.” June strikes a deal: if she persuades Commander Nick to spill secrets to the Swiss, Nichole stays in Canada. Job done, June reckons, and leaves with the smile of a woman hopefully hiding 400 Toblerones under her cape.

Any joy we felt over June’s negotiating powers quickly disappears when she discovers Nick let her down. A Swiss delegate tells June that Nick is not to be trusted. “I don’t think you know who Mr Blaine is,” she says, and it turns out Nick was a soldier in the Crusade. Nick helped Gilead become what it is today, and June realises she has nobody left to trust.

Aunt Lydia hug, anybody?

You know it’s bad when you turn to Aunt Lydia for support. This was a beautifully tender scene between two exhausted and lonely women, and then June asked Aunt Lydia to tighten her mouth gag. This show makes my head hurt, but in an incredible way.

It’s final prayer time, and June and Serena have it out in front of a ruined Lincoln Memorial. “I should have put a ring in your mouth the day we met,” Serena spits at June, ignoring the fact she wears a ring on her fourth finger that silences her just as much. “You will always be cruel, small and empty,” June replies. “I should have let you burn while I had the chance.” Abe Lincoln said nothing, because 1) he has also been silenced by Gilead and 2) he is made of stone.

Do you think it’s symbolic?

The only person who won’t shut up is Fred, who’s loving himself sick as he leads the women of Gilead in prayer. The episode ends with thousands of handmaids kneeling silently before him, while he bangs on about the power of a man filled with virile arrows. Fred is pumped, big time. This was one hell of a holiday, but in the wise words of Aunt Lydia, “I can’t wait to get home.”

You can watch The Handmaid’s Tale on Lightbox right here, and find all of our coverage of the show here.

This content was created in paid partnership with Lightbox. Learn more about our partnerships here.

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