Cousins Nick and Shannon Walsh of Deer Park holed up in the family bach on the Coromandel peninsula, their indie-rock reared sensibilities swimming with the multitude of possibilities that modern electronic production techniques could add to a record. For non-Kiwi readers, maybe I should explain what a bach is, as I was a touch confused myself. A bach (pronounced batch, as in bachelor pad) is a Kiwi holiday house, and after reading the bands’ press release and a brief YouTube clip of the cousins explaining the genesis of the album, I had to do a bit of digging to clear up in my head the fact that Johann Sebastian had nothing to do with the creation of this album. But, Mark Brenndorfer, from Auckland compatriots Mild America, did help out on drums during this session, although he has now relocated overseas, possibly taking a walk into the sea on the way.
Walk Into The Sea is a dreamy, languid and dense album. Epic yet experimental, there’s a lightness of touch to the cousin Walshes song writing and compositions. The individual tracks pass by like the stops on a high country narrow gauge railway, sometimes gloomy under the shadow of high granite cutting, yet eventually breaking through the clouds and tempests into the mountaintop sunlight. On album opener “Jubilee”, loops pile upon each other, bar by bar, like the aforementioned train wheels slowly dropping in cadence as the gradient steepens. Nick’s plaintive yet hopeful vocals burst in – the dynamics are pure indie rock, yet the musical bedrock is of the electronic variety, utilising contemporary studio alchemy to great effect. “Kenwood Drive” sounds like a cross between UK post-rock godheads (at least in my world) Bark Psychosis and Flying Lotus. Shannon talked of immersing himself in the wonky beats and lush textures of Fly Lo and Co. prior to the recording of Walk Into The Sea. That’s quite apparent, but Deer Park takes these contemporary influences and gives them a southern hemisphere reboot.
There’s a duo of odes to girls, “Jennifer” and “Izabell”- one wise, one superficial yet complex. “When in New York” could almost be the sound of Echo and the Bunnymen getting maudlin, longing for the big smoke whilst getting drunk in a pub with Jason Pierce. This track and “Circus” share a similar epic quality, and Mr Brenndorfer is certainly no slouch on the skins, as cascades of breakbeats and ride cymbals hypnotise and thrill in equal measure. The production on “Clocks” is pure T++ style electronic itchiness – there’s a more introspective hue to Shannon’s vocals, yet somehow Nick’s chorus cry of “Suicide” still sounds curiously hopeful. “Neon Cities” merging of man and machine brings Kraftwerk to mind, as clickity percussion and backwards loops, dubwise effects and subdued yet soaring vocals heralds the end of a slice of pure indie electronic albumatic genius. I can’t wait for the second instalment, and I’m not overly prone to hyperbole. Get your hands on the first instalment here.
Oliver Laing
