โAs Dave Edwards he has explored fuzzypunk, free-jazz, spoken word, alternative-folk and demented popโฆ as Dave Black, the palette is broadenedโ โ Simon Sweetman
by Dave Black (acoustic & electric guitars, banjo, harmonica, laptop, bass, tenor saxophone, field recordings, piano, gayageum, vocal), with
“Experimental and avant-garde…. There is a clear passion, and a commitment to pushing the boundaries… This will challenge your perceptions of what constitutes music and open the mind to new possibilities of sounds that surround us – muzic.net.nz“
A compilation of songs, spoken word and instrumentals from the early phase of my gloriously unsuccessful career:
“Whilst shopping from fiffdimension, make sure to get hold of ‘Gleefully Unknown’ – a best-of compilation of Dave Edwardsโ music from 1997 to 2005. Rough outsider folk-blues mysteries, dissonant rock textures, electric and acoustic improvisations…
“Edwards strikes me as one of the most overlooked musicians from the fertile lands of New Zealand and if you need a fresh start this might very well be the place.” – Mats Gustafsson, The Broken Face
This is an ethnomusicological album of pieces made from sound recordings, during visits to six different countries in Asia during 2007-2008, The sounds are edited into sonic short stories.
Getting to Mongolia really felt like something new though, starting with the big poster of Chinngis Khan at the airport and the fairly small-town feel of Ulaanbaatar. It looks a bit like Dunedin.Mongolia turns a lot of Asia on its head: itโs not crowded, the houses donโt have Chinese-style roofs, itโs warm but not humid & rainy in summer, and they donโt grow rice or eat with chopsticks. With fewer than three million people in a country almost five times the size of New Zealand, it makes home look crowded. Mongolia has the kind of big wide sky weโd experienced driving across Australia in 2005, with endless rolling hills covered in short grasses and herbs and only a few isolated patches of trees or occasional rock formations. The country smells of sage, thyme and livestock. Goats, sheep and horses were a frequent sight though the bulk of the land was simply empty. We saw some large black & white cranes and a couple of huge eagles with two metre wingspans.
Our guide Chim-ge was very helpful and friendly and spoke good English. We also had a driver whose name sounded like Reggae (we had fun trying to explain what reggae music is) who spoke no English but was very good at avoiding getting stuck in the mud. After a seven-hour drive across mostly dirt roads, we got to the ger camp where we were staying for the next two days. A ger is a round Mongolian tent house built around a central fireplace, with a south-facing door (the winds come from the north).
Mongolian nomads dismantle their gers and move home four times a year. That system allows the land to regenerate from grazing. The animals are the familiesโ livelihoods, providing income, food and even fuel for fires ie dung. We spent a couple of hours โpicking up shitโ to help out, and also took a turn at milking the goats. We filled a fifth of a bucket between us in the time the mother and grandmother of the family filled two each. The other job was mixing the barrel of arrig, or alcohol made from fermented horsesโ milk. We were presented with two bowls on arrival – it tasted like a sour yoghurt.
Mongolian food is almost entirely based on meat and dairy products and not at all spicy. They put some onion and carrot in our food but that was really a tourist concession. I found a native spinach plant growing nearby as a diet supplement โ strangely the Mongolians donโt make use of that or the various herbs available. Many traditional nomads believe that vegetables are bad for you. They burn off all the protein and fat by working long and hard outdoors โ in the city there were a lot of fat Mongolians however.
On the second day we had a side trip to Karakortum, site of the oldest surviving Buddhist monastery in Mongolia and Chinggis Khanโs royal court (one turtle statue is all that remains). Each Buddhist country has a different style of artwork โ the Mongolian style is influenced by Tibetan Buddhism and seemed to emphasise demonic looking creatures such as the blue-skinned three-eyed sharp-fanged ten protectors. Listening to the red-robed monks chanting their sutras was fascinating, much more polyphonic than the Korean minimalist style.
The monastery buildings had Chinese-style roofs but overall there was much less Chinese influence in Mongolia than Iโd imagined. If anything we could see bits of Russia creeping in, especially back in town – for example the language is written in the Cyrillic alphabet. It was very interesting the feeling of Asia gradually fading away.
After a couple of days out in the country enjoying the smog-free air and the sounds of goats and sheep rather than traffic noise, construction work and hard-sell advertising, we headed back to Ulaanbaatar. We had timed the trip to coincide with the Nadaam festival (translates as โfun festivalโ), which is the big annual event consisting of wrestling, archery and cross-country horse racing. It celebrates Mongolian independence from 200 years if Manchu rule. We were most interested in the opening ceremony, which was a feast of colourful costumes, dancing and Mongolian music which, as several locals said, evokes the feel of wide open spaces, galloping horses, cold winter nights and mountain passes.
We got our fill of Mongolian music over the next two nights, seeing both a smaller traditional ensemble and a big-scale stage show with a full Morin-Khuur orchestra. The morin-khuur is a kind of two-stringed cello with a rhombus-shaped body and a horseโs head carving at the top of the neck. They come in various sizes up to double-bass size and were surprisingly cheap to buy in the shops (about $80NZ โ too big to travel with unfortunately and would need a case). Both shows were amazing, with costumes, dancing, musicians accompanying contortionists, and longsongs and throat-singing.
In all Mongolia was a definite highlight so farโฆ
It was a great pleasure to get to Vietnam. There was a stopover in Hong Kong airport โ out the windows I could see glass apartment towers, hillsides eroded from deforestation and a polluted green harbour. Then on to Vietnam, a fertile countryside of rice paddies and fruit trees with sudden rock formations rising out of the plains. Everywhere hundreds of Vietnamese in cone-shaped coolie hats were at work in the fields from dawn to duskโฆ itโs definitely the land of the cone heads. The hats are an elegantly simple design that protect from the sun and rain.
Although poorer, the Vietnamese people overall seemed healthier, happier, and more stylish, industrious, humorous and better looking than the average Korean. I enjoyed the fusion of old and new on display, whereas Koreans keep their traditional things quite separate from their modern life. There was also a refreshing absence of the usual celebrity stoogesโ faces everywhere, and no McDonalds restaurants to be found. Instead they had communist-style posters of good workers and Ho Chi Minh. The atmosphere was never dreary or oppressive though โ itโs a vibrant, colourful country.
Hanoi, the capital, was full of motorbikes, their horns a constant soundtrack. The traffic is busy but not especially fast โ to cross a road you just walk out at a steady pace and the traffic all somehow avoids you. Itโs a much better system than in Thailand where you wait for a gap and then sprint across. Catching a motorbike ride with Vietnamese locals is a good way to get around and definitely part of the experience. The slightly unsatisfying aspect was being on a time limit and being on the tourist trail for some of it. Prices were cheap but not that cheap and there were always locals around trying to sell something, and many small-time scams to get extra money. Itโs hard to begrudge them though โ theyโre doing a great job rebuilding from the American war (one-legged mine victims the most visible reminder) and finding their place in the world. The newspaper headlines were mostly government propaganda (itโs a one-party state) and one that stood out was their goal to become an average income nation by 2020. That contrasts with Koreaโs frantic industrial development (at the expense of their own culture and environment) and their new presidentโs unattainable election promise of 7% growth every year.
Highlights included Cuc Phuong national park where we explored a bat-filled cave where stone-age people had lived 7500 years ago; the national water puppet theatre, a great Vietnamese art-form with live music, carving, action and splashes; a night drinking on a boat on Halong Bay with kiwis and aussies; and the sights and general ambience โ there was an overall sense of optimism in the country.
In all, Iโd love to go back to Southeast Asia another time with an open itinerary and no time limit, and see Cambodia and Laos as well.
Tonight it’s time to get on the train to Siberia, so I’ll write about Mongolia when I get a chance…
1861 revisited – my pฤkeha (European) ancestors, John ‘Totara Jack’ and Mary Edwards, arrived in the South Island of New Zealand on board the Olympusand settled in Nelson1.
and recorded the sound of tui and makomako (native birds) in Nelson Lakes National Park.
The early settler stories marked the start of an interest in genealogy, and prompted the music video for The Ballad of William Knife3 (loosely based on ‘Totara Jack’).
In contrast to the ‘traditional’ South Island NZ ‘Flying Nun‘ or The Dead C inspired sounds, South Island Sessions blended acoustic instruments with field recordings and electronic glitches. I played acoustic guitar, banjo and saxophone, and delegated the electric guitar role to two local players. We named this new genre “Steampunk Folktronica“4.
Credits
Dave Black – acoustic guitar (2,6), banjo (3,4,6), drums (4), harmonica (2), laptop, field recordings, tenor saxophone (6,7), and vocals
Music by Dave Black – banjo, dictaphone, laptop, acoustic guitar, harmonica, drums / Cylvi M – phat beatz, shaker, shakuhachi / Francesca Mountfort – cello / Mike Kingston – acoustic guitar / various Australians
“After Maths & Sciences was recorded by Dave Black (some may know him as David A. Edwards, and if you donโt, then check his website, or the compilation of earlier recordings,Gleefully Unknown 1997-2005) in two parts: From May-July of 2005 in Melbourne, during the winter….
About
By 2005 I needed a change from Wellington, and bought a ticket to Melbourne – the first leg of my ‘big OE’.
I lived in Melbourne (in Brunswick) for six months, and had my mind blown by the sheer size of Australia, and exposure to new ideas and sounds – eg Aussie hip-hop, Middle Eastern music, and the noisier local birdlife. I loved the wide open spaces and the eucalyptus scent.
I didn’t have a guitar with me, so bought a banjo instead (which I still have). I also began to incorporate field recordings and laptop electronica. And rather than writing from within myself, I became more of an observer.
I released After Maths & Sciences (my last CDR for years, before the format became obsolete) under the name Dave Black (adopting my maternal grandfather’s surname), to signal this change of approach. The title suggests the ‘aftermath’ of my life in Wellington, and experimenting with a new approach.
“…And then from December of last year to January of 2006 in New South Wales; summer.”
On a second visit to Australia for Christmas and New Year 2005/06 – this time to New South Wales – Cylvi M and I created more Australian soundscapes (including political themes, such as the Cronulla Riots and burgeoning awareness of climate change, as well as bird and insect sounds).
Later in 2006, on a third visit to Australia, and thanks to Lawrence English, I performed at Liquid Architecture Festival in Brisbane (unrecorded).
Returning to NZ, I then played a set at Lines of Flight in Dunedin – performing a live soundtrack to video footage I’d taken in Queensland. These Australian videos were some of my first uploads to www.youtube.com/@fiffdimension – now one of the platform’s longest-running channels!
“The album is a travel-document; a response to relocation, a series of sound-sketches and sonic-manipulations designed to confront (and possibly unhinge) the listener; a reflection of several journeys โ an aural diary of events from time spent in Australia, evoking the mood of the place (geographically) and the mood of the time (politically).San Shimlaโs occasional guitar, Francesca Mountfortโs cello and Cylvi Manthyngโs percussion and shakuhachi (a Japanese woodwind) support Dave Black.
“As Dave Edwards he has explored fuzzy-punk, free-jazz, spoken word, alternative-folk and demented pop, primarily using guitar, harmonica and voice; sometimes with a band or a backing cast at least โ often as a solo artist(e). Here, as Dave Black, the palette is broadened: banjo, drums and the use of a laptop computer (triggering sounds via Fruityloops, Audacity and Audition programs) add extra textures. During 2005 Edwards studied journalism, his use of dictaphone and laptop on this recording see him reaching outside of music for influences to use in new contexts.
“The collages that form the pieces on After Maths & Sciences are modern-day field recordings, contemporary anxieties are explored (a typically frank Australian is overheard at a train station lamenting public transport in the wake of the London bombings). The juxtaposition of banjo (an instrument prominent in the work of Doc Boggs, Earl Scruggs and many of the earliest artists featured on the iconic U.S. Library Of Congress field recordings made by Alan Lomax and Harry Smith) helps to recontextualise the snapshots of modern-day Australia. And the name that Edwards has chosen, Dave Black, as well as having relevance within his family history, becomes a nice reference to the passing of The Man In Black (Johnny Cash) and various (possibly mythic) country-playing banjo pickers. For this is โcountryโ music, though perhaps not as we know it. Birdsong, despite computer filtering, sits pure alongside the countryโs archaic (near-redneck) political views. Abrasive bursts of white-noise are channelled via a throbbing electro pulse (Kraftwerk goes on safari sabbatical?).
“There are New Zealand artists working in this medium (Montano, Seht, Audible 3) combining concrete poetry, field recordings, found-sounds and electro-acoustic manipulations to sit as aural wallpaper, but Dave Blackโs debut release (and a re-birth, if you like, for David Edwards) is an actual document โ as much a post-modern piece of Performance Journalism as it is a static batch of โsongsโ or tracks, After Maths & Sciences is a pleasing challenge of an album. It lives up to the clichรฉ of presenting something new with each listen,”- Simon Sweetman
From 2012-2014 I moved to Australia a second time, and spent 2 1/2 years living in Perth, in Western Australia. Recordings from that period became the albumin a Wildflower State.
I’ve also revisited ‘the lucky country’ a couple of other times since. In 2024 I played a gig in Sydney, alongside SydneysidersNick Dan,Anthony GuerraandMonica Brooks. The recordings are included on Live 2022-24.
2011 – year of the Christchurch earthquakes, the Arab Spring, the Fukushima disaster, the shootings in Norway,the Queensland floods… and the Wellington (New Zealand) winter was colder than usual.Acoustic improvisations on guitar, ukulele, banjo, clarinet, piano, harmonica and percussion by The Winter (Simon, Dave and Mike).
It was 10 years ago nearly to the day that I had my first jam as part of a group of musicians that would go on to take the name The Winter. The name coming from the day we first got together, 2003’s winter solstice.
I listened back to Parataxes last night for the first time in ages. I wouldn’t say I ever made a habit of listening to it, but as with other recordings I’ve made it gets trotted out from time to time. Very occasional, but I couldn’t tell you I’d never listened to it, or that I’ll never listen to it again.
The Winter has became somewhat infamous in the life ofย Blog on the Tracksย because every time a group of fans get upset with me for picking on their band, a clip from YouTube is circulated suggesting that I cannot play music at all; the band I’m working with is not in tune and not playing anything resembling a song.
I’ve felt a little sad about this only in that it compromises the two other musicians in The Winter. They don’t deserve the abuse but are presumably trialled on a guilty-by-association tip. But I’m fair game. I front up and say things about music. It’d be a bit rich if I couldn’t handle people saying things about mine.
So I figured I should share that post here – and the link to the album to stream or download (both of which I have provided links to above). Have at it. But be warned…you might instead prefer to run to the hills.
Ten years on it was strange listening to this music. It’s improvised music, avant-garde perhaps, or experimental. These are tags that others have used. It might well be the biggest load of s**t you ever hear. That’s fine. I’ve never hidden from this – nor any of the other music I’ve had a hand in. But I understand that I’m an easy target with this platform.
The music on Parataxes and the early jams with The Winter were really important for me – an extension of my appreciation for free and improvised musics – free-jazz/noise/ambient – a lot of free/improv passed me by when I first tried turning an ear to it. But I found it. I found the bits and pieces I liked. And part of appreciating it was having a go at it. My go. With The Winter.
It was the most challenging – and freeing – that a playing experience has ever been. I was so scared the first time we performed live at the Photospace Gallery. I’m sitting there with toy percussion instruments, found pieces, old drum parts scattered around me. And I have no idea what I’m going to do with them – beyond bang at them. It was so stupid of me. But it was great. I loved it.
I made good friends from playing in The Winter – we still catch up, make music now and then, or maybe to you it’s not music at all. That’s fine. We have a cup of tea and a chat and we make our pieces of music – music that makes sense to us. We use different instruments every time. And nothing is ever the same. Nothing’s repeated, nothing’s played the same way twice. But it always sounds like us. Over the past 10 years and a handful of scattered performances we found our sound. And I’m really glad we did. It helped me to appreciate the world’s great improvisers; it has put me on to some amazing music and taught me a lot about myself.
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