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Merk, by the beach (photo: Sylvia Louis Marie, additional design: The Spinoff)
Merk, by the beach (photo: Sylvia Louis Marie, additional design: The Spinoff)

New Zealand MusicApril 29, 2021

‘I was bored of strumming guitars’: How Merk made a new album, and found a new sound

Merk, by the beach (photo: Sylvia Louis Marie, additional design: The Spinoff)
Merk, by the beach (photo: Sylvia Louis Marie, additional design: The Spinoff)

On his long-awaited return, the singer-songwriter talks postponed plans, film scores and finding new purpose by paring things back.

At the start of 2020, Merk was getting ready to resurface. Three years removed from the release of his acclaimed and award-winning first album Swordfish, the artist born Mark Perkins had finally put finishing touches on its follow-up, and was beginning to plant seeds for its release. Lead single ‘H.N.Y.B.’ was out, extensive European and American tours (beginning with a stop at major industry festival SXSW) had been booked, and a date had been set for a pre-departure fundraising show at Auckland’s Whammy Bar.

That date was March 11. On March 6, the city of Austin announced that owing to the rapid and uncontrolled spread of Covid-19, SXSW 2020 would be cancelled. Well-laid plans quickly unravelled, and Merk found himself very much at the mercy of the fates. The Whammy show went ahead, but within weeks basically everything else stopped. The moment he’d spent entire years working towards would be deferred indefinitely.

At first, Perkins says he wasn’t entirely fazed by the disruption. “I’m a studio guy,” he explains. “When I’m at home, making stuff on my computer, that’s like, my zone.” The disappointment would come later. “Over the months following I was like, actually this does kind of suck.”

But when we meet, a little less than a year since everything stopped, there’s little to suggest the experience has engendered any enduring bitterness. It’s a typically sweaty late morning at the tail end of Auckland’s long, damp summer, and he’s wandered over from the Karangahape Road flat that houses his home studio. He’s been keeping busy: the album’s been rescheduled, the release tour is booked, and he’s spent a morning deep in the process of scoring an upcoming local documentary series.

It’s only his second work in that medium, after a 2020 collaboration with friend and contemporary Marlon Williams on the score for an also yet-to-be-released feature film, and he’s clearly enjoying exploring a new musical vernacular. But while Swordfish-era Merk no doubt had a rare gift for melody, given the tendency of his early work towards a kind of Bolan-on-Sesame-Street hypercoloured glam rock it feels fair to say that the move to soundtracks may come as some surprise. When pressed, Perkins says although the new medium does introduce new challenges, it’s also helped him approach his writing and production in a new way.

“It’s a different form of storytelling,” he explains. “I just think that cinema is like the art of arts…it’s the culmination of every [artform]. And I guess what I’m enjoying at the moment is the humbling process of learning; being not so good at something necessarily, and then having to learn that new skill. As I get older, I feel like those opportunities come less and less, where you’re put in a scenario where you don’t know everything, or anything.”

Photos: Sylvia Louis Marie

It’s a move which also makes slightly more sense in the context of his new album. Released earlier this month, Infinite Youth marks a clear departure from the sound and the songs with which he initially found an audience. There’s clearly a common lineage between the records – he hasn’t entirely lost the playful irreverence of Swordfish, and he’s no less adept in coaxing earworm hooks from the most unassuming of places – but where previously he’d leaned into his maximal instincts, here the sonic references are broader, the arrangements more ornate, the compositions subtler and more refined.

It’s a change he credits in large part to Johan Carøe. A Danish soundtrack composer and electronic musician, Carøe first crossed Perkins’ path when both attended the Red Bull Music Academy in 2016. Their quick kinship would soon evolve into an enduring friendship and a subsequently fruitful creative partnership, and while there’s a degree of separation between the two artists’ respective wheelhouses, Perkins says that’s where at least some of the creative attraction lies.

“Johan doesn’t really like indie music,” he says. “But that’s what excited me about working with him.” As well as his considerable technical input through the process – parts of the album were recorded at his Copenhagen studio, and the pair collaborated extensively online too – Carøe would serve as both foil and quasi-coach for Perkins throughout the extended creative process.

“When I started making Infinite Youth I was quite bored with strumming guitars. Because I’d recognised that pattern in myself, where a lot of my songs followed that format of, like: strum, guitar solo, big chorus. Which is great, I love that stuff, but I’ve done it. I was really ready to create something new.”

In some ways, creating something new meant forgetting old defense mechanisms. Perkins’ songwriting has always leaned autobiographical, but he admits that at times the aesthetic of his work has distracted from the text. Carøe’s take was succinct. “Johan was basically like, ‘those funny synths [on Swordfish] are cool, but you’re hiding. You’re downplaying your emotions by being like ‘check out this cool sound!’’ So we worked a lot on cutting to the core.”

Photos: Sylvia Louis Marie

Listening to the finished product, it’s clear that its creators took that idea to heart. Infinite Youth is an engrossing, immediate record, built from songs which feel at once intricately constructed and lavishly expansive. Perkins describes his and Carøe’s shared intent as “Steve Reich, but played by The Carpenters”, and the DNA of those polar pillars of American minimalism is for sure apparent, but it’s also a record where Haroumi Hosono-inflected city pop vamps (‘GOD’, ‘Deep Dive’) sit comfortably next to Harry Nilsson-via-Grandaddy introspection (album bookends ‘H.N.Y.B.’ and ‘Infinite Youth’), and where the indisputable showstopper (penultimate track ‘But She Loves You’) transitions effortlessly from gentle piano balladry to lush symphonic disco in a scant three minutes.

It’s also an album which feels impossibly prescient of the moment in which it landed. Although it’s not a Covid-era album as such – in that it was mostly completed by the time the virus even became a consideration – there’s an intimacy and a directness which feels remarkably fitting to our cultural moment. It’s easy to imagine couplets like “All our friends / are sadder than they were last year” from ‘Happiness’ or “Always spinning faster / into the plughole revolver” from ‘Laps Around The Sun’ taking on a particular resonance at a time when the world seems to be collectively taking stock of exactly how meaningful our pre-pandemic priorities were.

Maybe the strangest instance of this accidental timeliness comes via early-album standout, the bubbly, surf-tinged ‘American Parties’. Taken in the current world context, its earnest platitudes feel sardonic to the point of being at least a little bit acidic; the idea that anyone’s looking to that particular country for anything other than a cautionary tale right now feeling borderline unbelievable.

“I wrote that song for Swordfish, in 2015. And it was, like, kind of genuine at the time. Because a lot of my friends were going over to do music in LA, and doing really well… it was less about America so much as it was about me being lonely. But every year I feel like it takes on a new meaning, since it’s sat unreleased, and I’m so intrigued to see what people think of that song. I feel like my job is done: I’ve made it, and now people can do with it what they want.”

Across our conversation, that attitude – of accepting that his creative labours will inevitably take on supplementary or alternate symbolism – begins to feel like something of a guiding principle for the Merk project. It’s clear beyond doubt that the music he’s making means the world to Perkins, but he’s careful to allow for distance between what the songs mean to him and what they’ll come to mean to an audience. And in terms of how he expresses those creative impulses in future, he’s optimistic that the seeds planted in the making of Infinite Youth will continue to bear fruit.

“I think we did a lot of groundwork with this one. And hopefully [with future albums] I won’t have to deconstruct the whole thing every time and build a new one. Maybe we can hang out here for a bit. Try to perfect it, a little bit.”

This content, like Merk’s album Infinite Youth, was created with the support of NZ on Air. Merk tours Aotearoa in May 2021 – visit Undertheradar for show details and ticketing.

kane strang sitting in front of green bushes, hands clasped casually
Kane Strang (Photo: Loulou Callister-Baker)

New Zealand MusicMarch 30, 2021

How one song saved Kane Strang’s whole album

kane strang sitting in front of green bushes, hands clasped casually
Kane Strang (Photo: Loulou Callister-Baker)

Kane Strang is back and Strang-er than ever with a new single, ‘Moat’. He talks to Josie Adams about his new music and why he’ll never stop making it.

The last time I saw Kane Strang was at a birthday brunch for his girlfriend, where he was in charge of cooking mushrooms. It was a duty he took very seriously and slowly. The mushrooms were perfect. 

It’s been four years since Kane Strang’s last album and just like with those mushrooms, the hours and effort have paid off. He’s spent years drifting between Ōtepoti and Tāmaki, and between odd jobs and recording studios, but he’s never put music on the back burner.

The first fruit of his four-year labour is ‘Moat’, the NZ on Air-funded first single off his new album, Happy to Perform. Without that funding the album may never have been finished – it arrived just in time to pay for the song’s studio session. Even though ‘Moat’ is brassy and chorusless it’s got that delightful peri-pop nature all Strang’s songs do. You hesitate to define him as easy listening, but I’ll be damned if he isn’t easy to listen to.

We sat down to talk about ‘Moat’ and the journey that led to it.

The Spinoff: So ‘Moat’ is pretty smooth but also a little bizarre. Can we talk about the structure of your songs?

Kane Strang: Structurally all of the songs are quite weird. They don’t even have choruses a lot of the time. They’re almost these linear things with a hook at the end or something.

I can’t remember if it was a conscious decision to play around with structures or if I’m just pretending it is now.

Is the way you make music pretty accidental?

Yeah. It’s very accidental. I don’t have any kind of process that I go back to each time. It’s really a matter of playing guitar until I fluke something, and then just fleshing that thing out.

I don’t know what I’m doing I’m not technically trained or anything. If I have any talent it might just be knowing when something has potential, and being able to picture the whole song quite quickly.

Does accidental mean effortless?

It’s definitely not effortless. It’s a real grind. I need to know I’ve explored every avenue.

We re-did and it’s funny now, because maybe it didn’t matter at all but we probably re-made this album three times. I don’t know if it was worth it or what, but when you’re in so deep you lose perspective.

While you were making this album you worked at Golf Warehouse for a while. Did that help you with perspective?

It was kind of so bad it was funny. The year before I’d been touring and playing music in Europe and America and all of a sudden I was at Golf Warehouse. It was a reality check.

It was just me by myself in a big warehouse, and they’d say “move all these boxes from here to this place over here”, and they’d leave me alone and I could think about music.

The guy I worked with there is where I got the album title from, Happy to Perform. He was really good at stacking pallets, and one day there was this old guy helping us out for the day, and he complimented my workmate on his pallet-stacking skills, and he said “I’m happy to perform!” and I was like, “yoink”.

And then I threw out three grand worth of golf clubs and that was about when it turned to shit.

 

It’s so bizarre that you’ve had all these extremely normie experiences in between doing like, SXSW and everything.

Yeah, [the American tour] was 27 shows in 30 days or something, and we had no tour manager. Ben [Fielding], our drummer, drove 10,000 miles I’m going to have to fact check that.

It was a lot of miles.

Plenty of miles were driven. It almost feels like another life now.

And it also feels impossible now. Times are changing.

Yeah, it already felt like this weird dream and now you literally can’t do that. I feel lucky I got to do it when I did. I know how much work goes into those tours and how much money you’re expected to front. I really feel for people who are having to cancel [tours].

I’m really curious about what labels will be like in a few years. Have you seen Bandcamp is starting to do vinyl? That’s cool.

It feels like the traditional music industry is on its way out.

Yeah, totally. It’s only going to become easier to be an independent artist. At least, I hope so.

For me, dealing with the big team [Strang has previously been signed with Ba Da Bing Records and Dead Oceans] and everything  I found it so full on. And so impersonal, I guess. I like to be the one that presses the button and delivers it to the people. It felt weird waking up one morning and the album was just out, because some guy in America had decided that was when the most people were going to hear it.

I was really nostalgic for when I was releasing my own music and for when I was in control of everything. I was a bit of a control freak. A lot of that was taken out of my hands.

That doesn’t mean you’re a control freak.

It’s more like I care, yeah. I really had to fight to not have the “Dunedin sound” mentioned in my press release.

No-one knows what that means anymore!

It doesn’t mean anything! People just slap it on when they can’t think of what else to say. It’s kind of a cop-out, in my eyes. I don’t mind if people use the phrase “Dunedin sound” if you explain to me how it is the Dunedin sound, because I don’t fucking know.

I’d rather they say the record is shit than slap a label on it because they can’t really be bothered listening to it. To be fair, they did let me not do that.

Kane Strang sits on a log in the woods, sunlight landing on his face and hands
Photo: Loulou Callister-Baker

What are you? Indie?

I don’t know! I hate genres in general.

Every song on Happy to Perform is a different genre.

Yeah! Honestly, that’s probably because I don’t like labels. They put some people off, they can make some people pretend they like it more than they do.

It’s music. Just listen to it, if you like it.

People can have a little strum after dinner, as a hobby, now.

Yeah, music is so much more accessible now. It shouldn’t just be for people who can afford big fancy studios.

Where did you record this album?

Uh, in a big fancy studio.

But my circumstances were pretty odd! I started recording in Radio One in the live-to-air room, where Steven John Marr was running the show. And then he got offered a job at Roundhead when we were halfway through recording, and he couldn’t freelance anymore, so essentially I had to record at Roundhead.

Are you going to be a musician forever?

I think so, yeah. Sometimes I wish I could switch off from it. For a week, just not be a musician. But it’s such a part of me now. I think I’ll probably be writing songs to the bitter end. 

You’ll be on your deathbed.

I’ll be like, “where’s my phone… I’ve got one final lyric”.

I feel like I’m quite lucky to have a purpose. There are lots of other things I want to try, but I’m glad I have that thing.

It’s good to feel committed to something.

I think the next thing I do, I’m going to really challenge myself to do something really live and raw. I’m thinking this might be the last stuff I do under my own name. I’m ready for a fresh start. It would be quite freeing, I guess.

Got any names yet?

One I was thinking was Office Dog. But we’ll see.

This interview has been abridged for clarity. 

‘Moat’ was produced thanks to funding from NZ on Air. Happy to Perform is out now.