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Pop CultureJuly 21, 2017

Inside a Quiet Mind: New Zealand’s best techno album, reissued

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Henry Oliver talks to Denver McCarthy, who made perhaps New Zealand’s best techno album nearly 20 years ago.

In 1998, a 20-year-old Denver McCarthy released perhaps New Zealand’s best techno album, Inside a Quiet Mind, on Kog Transmissions. It was a more-than-promising debut for a young producer, combining dancefloor-ready four-to-the-floor bass drums with ethereal, introverted synths. Recorded over two years in makeshift studios on gear bought and borrowed from the music store he worked at, the album is the sound of McCarthy’s spiritual journey, his search for a quiet mind.

Soon after the album was released, McCarthy’s burgeoning interest in the Hare Krishna movement was crystallised and he sold his gear and gave away his records, devoting himself to the movement which has taken him around the world before settling in Brisbane.

Unbenown to him, in the 19 years since his only album was released his music had gained a cult following and in 2015 Dutch label Delsin Records re-released a 12” EP of four songs off the album. And today Loop Recordings is re-releasing the album in full digitally and on double-LP.

I Skyped McCarthy at his home in Brisbane to ask how the record was made, how it came to be re-discovered, and what he’s up to now.

How does it feel to have this album you made so long ago back in the world?

It’s strange. I’m just trying to process it all. I thought it was destined to live in the sale bins at record stores across New Zealand. But I guess there’s this retro thing going on where people are re-releasing music from a long time ago and I fall into that category – ancient New Zealand techno music.

How did the reissue come about?

Mikee [Tucker, Loop Recordings head honcho] messaged me on Facebook saying “I’m in Brisbane, we should hook up.” I didn’t get that message till a few weeks later. I’d meet Mikee a few times but it’s been a long time since we’ve connected so I had no idea why he was wanting to communicate with me after so many years. So I didn’t answer his message – I’m a little bit of a hermit. Then he starts messaging my wife saying “I’m trying to get in touch with your husband because we want to re-release his CD.” So we spoke and I asked him “is anyone going to be actually interested in listening to this ancient New Zealand techno record?” It took a little bit of assurance but he said he thought he could do it right. I was just hoping he could cover his costs but there seems to be some interest.

I’m still processing it. But it’s been a great experience. 

Are you feeling nostalgic?

I see a lot of Facebook posts that I haven’t responded to yet and I will hopefully. I really want to catch up with my friends from New Zealand in person, but it’s sparked a lot of memories for a lot of people from that time. It was a very interesting time for all of us and electronic music in general. There was a real excitement about electronic music at that time, in New Zealand and around the world. The album has transported people back to that time, all the memories and friends from that time.

What was the scene like, that this record comes out of?

There was lots of music coming from overseas. We’d all gather round when a new shipment of vinyl would come in from overseas, eagerly awaiting the new fresh sounds from Germany or Detroit. There was a real buzz happening.

It was before you could buy tracks off the internet so you had to wait for the vinyl to actually be shipped from the other side of the world. We’d play it out at clubs and parties and it was exciting.

How’d you get into making music? 

I’d always been interested. I learnt the guitar when I was at school and just became interested in all kinds of instruments. I played in a metal band with some friends.

In Auckland, Sample G and Sam Hill ran a record shop in the city and they would organise a lot of rave parties and I was about 16 at the time – not old enough to get into clubs but we’d sneak in anyway. The whole scene erupted in Auckland. 

I left school and I was working at a musical instrument shop, Kingsley-Smith’s Music. My boss was such an influence. So I had access to all the equipment. I would tinker away on the synthesizers there and my interest just pulled me more and more into working out how to use them and trying to express my ideas through them. And slowly, I learnt more. I was quite driven actually.

Micronism bedroom studio (supplied)

What was the recording process? I’ve seen a photo of what looks to be your bedroom filled with synths and drum machines.

That photo is interesting. It propelled Micronism into this mythological person. It’s a shot from above and that is the whole room. There’s nothing more – just the table with all the keyboards and then there’s my bed next to it. That’s it. And there’s a curtain. That’s where I lived for a few weeks. It was at a place called the Red Shed in Mount Eden. It was like an old warehouse.

I did write some of the tracks there, but after I got into a more stable position economically and rented another room with more space, my studio expanded a little more. But that photo does say something about what was important at the time – it was just music. 

Techno was a largely singles-based genre. What made you want to sit down and make a concept album with a narrative, rather than just a collection of your tracks?

Musically, that’s influenced by my metal past. The metal concept album. Y’know, Pink Floyd and bands like that, I’d be into that thing, the concept album.

Were you going out and playing these tracks in clubs?

Some of them are more club material than others, but yeah, I played them a few places. 

Did you start getting booked in the chillout rooms?

Well, because my Mechanism stuff was really hard techno, gabba rave stuff, then you have Micronism which is more chilled out so I could vary what I played according to the audience.

Another micronism studio (Supplied)

What was the concept of Inside a Quiet Mind?

I was messaging with a friend who did one of the drum programming on one of the tracks, Will Stairmand, he used to be a drummer in a metal band so he also got into doing a bit of electronic music. He had this Akai sampler, and we connected one day and got together to do some music. We were reminiscing about this the other day. He says that I said we should smoke a joint before we make this song. I don’t remember that, maybe I was stoned I don’t remember recording it at all. His memory of it is that he’d just bought his Akai MPC so he was finding it difficult being intoxicated to operate it. Because he was just working out how to use the thing. But somehow or other, we recorded the track ‘Disillusion’.

So at that time I was obviously still involved in the scene in the sense that everything that comes with the music scene – and especially the techno scene which is fueled by intoxication and drugs – but somewhere along the line it sort of lost its taste. Whether I was growing older or growing out of it, something changed for me. Meeting the Krishnas seemed to come at the right time for me. It seemed like it was arranged in a sense. I was becoming less fulfilled with this drive for doing music and being involved with this type of scene. And the Krishna thing, everything about it just started to become more attractive. 

This whole idea about self-realisation, really understanding yourself and your inner motivations. It’s a really interesting thing to think about – what drives you, what are your real motivations. Because you have so many unconscious motivations – you don’t know why you do certain things. So I don’t know why I became attracted to Krishna at the time and some people were probably thinking the same – that I seemed to be heading in a good direction with my music, why on Earth would I decide not to take it further? And I don’t know! This Krishna thing just became more and more attractive to me and I had a whole collection of records that I would DJ and I had this one record of Hare Krishna chanting and I used to listen to that record and it became more and more attractive and in a very short amount of time I had no taste for listening to any other record. It was a strange experience and I don’t know how it came about, it just happened. And reading more and more into the philosophy of Krishna and associating more with the Krishna devotees it just fit more and more with the direction I was heading.

What do you hear when you listen to the album now?

It certainly takes me back to that time. Some of the tracks I don’t remember where I was or what studio I wrote them in, but ‘Quiet Mind’, I particularly remember. I was living in Kingsland, not far from the Kog studio. I feel like wow. Like, this track chose me to write it and I feel blessed in a sense. It’s got this deep feeling to it. When you’re listening to it you go, “This is just the sounds of some synthesizers made in Japan, but it evokes such a deep emotion, it’s a strange phenomenon.” And, for me, I was surprised that that could happen just tinkering with these little machines. 

Denver McCarthy post-Mirconism (Supplied)

What’s your relationship to music now?

Obviously the Krishna chanting is a big part of my musical expression now. Because of all the interest in Quiet Mind, I have delved a little bit into DJing and a little bit of electronic music because I understand that there may be some interest to get me to play again. Mikee has sent me a couple of parties or events that are interested in having me play there this year, so I’m preparing myself for that. I have a whole lot of music – released and unreleased – and I would love the opportunity to play that out. It would just be wonderful to catch up with all my friends who are either still connected that the scene or from the era. It would lovely to catch up with all of them again.


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loveisland

Pop CultureJuly 21, 2017

Set sail for the anthropological reality TV paradise of Love Island

loveisland

Tara Ward washes up on the shores of Love Island, the British reality sensation that has been compared to the works of Chaucer and Shakespeare.

I am late to the Love Island party. I am Jessica, sauntering in with my pleather swimming togs, ready to board the love train after every other bastard has already coupled up. I am also this woman, a mesmerised bystander watching the Love Island quest for true love explode before her eyes like a suitcase stuffed with too many tiny swimsuits, and I will never finish my fish supper.

I’ve only just discovered Love Island, but UK viewers have spent their summer going batshit crazy over the reality dating show where 15 strangers couple up to win £50,000. The Guardian even compares it to the works of Shakespeare and Chaucer, ffs. Those two geezers are right up there with Nicholas Sparks in the ol’ romance stakes, so you know it must be good.

But wait, I hear you say: how can a show about island survival and a search for love possibly be a winner if doesn’t feature Barb lying in a hammock or Zac wearing too-short trousers?

Love Island, thou art more temperate than an infinity pool under a hot Majorca sun. Let me count the ways:

It’s every reality show you’ve ever watched, but better

It’s Big Brother without the mindplay, Geordie Shore without the shitfights, Bachelor in Paradise without Chris Harrison. Love Island chewed on a smorgasbord of reality shows, spat them into a televisual Thermomix and turned the dial to ‘blend the beejesus out of it’. Ta-dah, out poured a silky cocktail of self-deprecating entertainment that intoxicates from the very first sip — nay, the first sniff.

It’s even convinced the Spanish insect world to couple up, bloody great work Love Island.

It’s not even set on an island

I prefer my reality TV 100% landlocked, so I was as pumped as an Island newcomer when I realised the only sea on Love Island was one of human emotions. Whether it’s Camilla’s “I can’t believe I pashed someone who doesn’t believe in feminism” meltdown or Marcel’s grief at discovering freshly-evicted Harley’s half empty water-bottle abandoned in the rock garden, Love Island is a heavy mass of feelings bobbing aimlessly amongst a steaming sea of desire and I AM HERE FOR IT.

Also, no man is an island, but if he was he would definitely feature this giant spin the bottle challenge.

I like to watch people and this is the least creepy way of doing it

Love Island is an anthropological gift. You’re welcome, The Future.

 

The contestants actually seem to like each other

Chuck a bunch of strangers into a luxury villa, order them to couple up to win a shitload of cash and what the flipping heck, they become friends? Of course they do, it’s not Lose Your Shit Island, and I’ve spent many a happy hour listening to cracking banter about whether Jesus was God’s brother or if their ideal type is ‘budgie smugglers’ or ‘normal dungarees’. It’s a bloody tough choice, to be fair.

 

It leaves me with more questions than answers

What makes a shy landmine disposal expert go on television to find love? How does Chloe make her left boob twerk? Do they have enough sun cream? I’m worried they’re not using a high enough SPF. Why does Montana wear socks with her bikini? Is she cold? Why don’t they use the hot tub? Will I really see Marcel at the crossroads? Why are thong togs even a thing?

I will not avert my eyes until my soul gets the knowledge it craves or someone slip slap slops, whatever happens first.

  

My kids won’t stop watching Doc McfuckingStuffins and I need to escape

Love Island is a magical land of eternal sunshine and clean surfaces. The Islanders don’t have 90 loads of washing drying on the clothes horse for the fifth day in a row, or lock themselves in the bathroom while their children hiff Lego at each other until they bleed. On Love Island, the cushions stay on the couch and the lawns are beautiful and tbh I’d like to couple up with that villa please and thank you Caroline Flack.

 

Ultimately we are all just a girl in a thong bikini, standing in front of a boy in budgie smugglers, asking him to love her

Chuck all your eggs in one basket because it’s all about love, innit?


The latest season of Love Island is available to watch on TVNZ OnDemand.

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