1856 to 2026 – DIY outsider music, from Aotearoa NZ and beyond
The Winter‘s 2004 sequel to Parataxes was a tribute to extinct New Zealand bird the Huia.
After this Mike and Dave moved to Australia, and the band next played in 2009.
Excerpts from the album appear on the band’s Shortest Days: 2003-2015 compilation:
The debut album by The Winter: instrumental improvisations from Wellington, New Zealand, 2003. The band emerged fully formed on winter solstice day in June.
Builds from acoustic intimacy around the winter fireplace to the electric blizzard climax of ‘Parataxes 9‘.
“Derek Bailey on acid!” – Anthony Donaldson, Primitive Art Group
Photos by James Gilberd, from The Winter’s first gig at Photospace Gallery, Wellington NZ, August 2003.
Mike Kingston – cello, electronic composition (1,4,7), electric guitar (2), acoustic guitar and slide whistle (8)
Dave Edwards – acoustic and electric guitars, harmonica
Simon Sweetman – drums and percussion
“The Winter are a Wellington based improvising trio, and Parataxes is their 1st release. It documents both acoustic and electric live sets that drift from eastern sounding cello led pieces to fairly extreme feed-backy noise. A key member of the group is Wellington’s master of pseudo-autistic intensity, Dave Edwards, whose guitar and harmonica work definitely moves the whole into a fairly edgy sphere. Over such a duration this can make pretty harrowing listening, but sometimes such immersions are worth it.” – Antony Milton, Pseudoarcana
“A strange sonic brew that includes dissonant rock textures, rough outsider folk-blues mysteries, electric and acoustic improvisations and a considerable part of tasty feedback. Imagine equal parts Derek Bailey, New Zealand’s Pumice and classic ’60s blues/folk and you’re in the right ballpark.” – The Broken Face
“I can be pretty naive sometimes, and I often forget that it actually
gets cold in New Zealand. For many of us Americans, we think of New
Zealand as being somewhat tropical. It’s an island after all, and we
are brought up believing that islands are exotic places that exist in
the middle of the warm oceans. This is obviously a mistake. Although I
still forget that the seasons are opposite in the Southern hemisphere,
the existence of dreary weather in New Zealand is cemented in my mind.
A great deal of experimental music from New Zealand has a distinctly
desolate, overcast feeling to it.“Appropriately named, The Winter hail from Wellington, New Zealand.
Most of you probably associate Wellington with the brilliant Pseudo
Arcana label, and keeping that sound in mind, The Winter offer up over
an hour of freeform aural explorations. These loose improvisations
range from processed field recordings to gritty blues dirges to
no-wave skronk. This trio consists of Simon Sweetman on drums and
percussion, San Shimla on cello, and Dave Edwards, whose great solo
albums have been circulating for years, on guitar and harmonica. All
three artists have a firm grasp of their respective instruments and
employ their talents well throughout “Parataxes.”“One thing I enjoy most about this record is Edward’s playing. On the
second track, the highlight is when he gets into a real groove with
his guitar and harmonica. The two complement each other perfectly, and
it has this 1960s folk feel to it that somehow doesn’t seem out of
place. As Sweetman joins in using various metallic percussive
instruments, the two start playing off each other. Their interaction
is impressive, and adds a vague sense of structure to this otherwise
scattered piece. I love when long improv sessions flow like a wave. At
times, they’re completely disjointed, but during rare moments
everything seems to come together. These last few minutes of the
second piece on “Parataxes” is one of those. It’s excellent.“Most of “Parataxes” is similar to the second track. Throughout long,
meandering jams, the trio searches through musty fog, searching out
common ground. As if in queue, they find each other, transfixed in the
middle somewhere. During the times when it all comes together, this is
as choice as any freeform improvisations I’ve heard in months.
However, these tracks wouldn’t this good if it weren’t for the journey
toward a collective state of mind. It might be all about the end
result, but the means of getting there is just as important…. The
Winter leave their mark. They soundtrack the devolution of autumn into
the coldest, cruelest of months. Using sparse sounds and sometimes
harsh instrumentation, “Parataxes” is all about finding the moment and
maintaining it for as long as possible. Recommended.”– Brad E. Rose, Foxy Digitalis
Excerpts from the album appear on the band’s Shortest Days: 2003-2015 compilation:
In 2002 I lived in Wellington, and was struggling with employment (and mental health) precarity.
Attempting to stay sane between unsuccessful job applications, I spent days alone in my room with a borrowed 4-track cassette recorder (thank you Jeff Henderson) and bass guitar (thank you Simon O’Rorke).
I was also looking for a way to follow up the almost-success of The Marion Flow (2001). Rather than craft a new set of pop songs, I was immersed in avant-garde influences, and aimed to ‘push the envelope’ of the singer-songwriter genre.
I’d never had a bass lesson, so came up with my own free-improvised atonal punk/funk style. The thin walls and neighbours below meant I couldn’t use an amp, but could only play in headphones. This added to the sense of implosion.
Likewise, vocals couldn’t be done in a loud voice. I mostly eschewed effects pedals, and went more for dissonance than distortion. The technology was all analogue.
The result was Mantis Shaped and Worrying. It received mixed reviews, but was unlike anything else (as far as I was aware) at the time. File under: sui generis.
Track one was a major composition in three movements entitled And in a who gets to who and who does and him:
“On the first of the four tracks here, New Zealand experimental musician David A. Edwards spins out these dry verbal expositions of descriptive details in rhythmic and purely compulsive floods, while behind his NZ accented narrative various bloops, noodles and skittering musical sounds are smeared around the canvas. Almost poetry, but often more like verbal textures rather than a focus on the words themselves. His speaking delivery seems purposely emotionless.
An excerpt appears on the Gleefully Unknown: 1997-2005 compilation,
but the full 10:34 version is a personal favourite.
And in a who gets to who and who does and him. And then in on him hand in a then on the who on the we. An hand and an and with the end on the hand hand a way. When a hand on a man non in hand. Hand in a hind and a theme gone in blind where a blind while a mind to stand singing hand on him. Hand and an on in the hand and the in on him hand.
High and illegal. Legal and doing him. Local gal vaccine. Heist on a bank. Local legal then and downtown. Lukewarm severance to the hand on him severing severely. Drinking Cab Sav. And a side-on severely waits weights wait til sin severely sad savage. And a courtroom scenery seizes his mind.Loose lukewarm sad and a sigh of allegiance to the motto. Motto leading us shining and tall. Tall to the too many tale-spinning severance pastime savagery at seven. Signing it tall. Tall to the too many tale-spinning severance pastime savagery. Loose and sad tall. Sad in a hand on him sad with allegiance. Allegiance his motto. Stand in the sad to the sigh of allegiance. Win a worried stand tall. Sad to the in on him sad ways to allegiance.Want to stand blow. Want to stand worried hand blowing and tall. Win a worried perception. Willing watching him sliding and squirming under the knife of punishment. Wheel in hand punish the knife. Wheel in hand fine with the knife. Wheel in hand fly to the knife. Loose in on not hand. Hand hanging loose win a wheel. Looseful unknown. Hard hanging hand in a hand on the wind. With worse wind hand swinging knife. Win a worse hand winding. Worse with the winning hand. Worse within hang not, not within hang. Hanging hand with the were times. Which hand were times were hands hanging these? Hand a hand with one’s own hand hanging worth and though plainness need in the interference a scurrying place. Hanging were to those hanging faith in the her hand. Hanging place. Loose fits the hand with the hand hanging were times hopeless hide this. Hide bliss. Win all the were times. Report to back yard.Hand a hand-wringing hand in the win all the were times. Times win the hanging. Times win the were. The were which were having hand in the in on them were times when the wheel which was won was won and within the were wages hanging side in the in on him hand within hand on the wages. Signing blank cheque. Writing time on the wins. Tried in the hand on the hanging in wind, tired of creatures’ spleen with vagueness pause surreptitious scrupulous longing.Win a glancing at watch. Win a tired end to long night. Hide and withheld. Whose surreptitious hands hanging wind? Winded wounded whining on wine. Aloof and withheld. Spell him on held. In a spell made him held. He will willing wound and awake with a wind wound and wide. Wound in on hound. And a hand in on wand. Hand the hand within hand. Hand the wound to the win and on wine. Wound the hand wind with a wine. Hand in a loose to the perseverance signature balancing hand upon wine. Win the wound of the world. Wield a promising sign, hang the hand to sad wine. Wound the in on him hand hanging vagueness. Hanging hand upon head. Hanging head in the were times. Hand the head hanging wound of the were times with a stylized perception persuasion perseverance, hand the hanging on hand held the head. Held the head to the in on vagueness. And a scurry for contempt. Contempt the hoop hanging wideness. Hang the hoop upon head hand to smuggle them up.Hang the hoop hanging were times. Hoop the hand on the were times. Hang the hand on the were times. See them all on to march. See them all on hand hiding the straight lace and biding one’s time. And hiding one’s time. Time them on hoop hand. We will practice at home. We will captain them up. We will leave a pause for bad ruin seen in pause for our perfume will slaughter captain them up. We will slaughter them up keen on captain, sleeve keen on captain. Bed and table forces. Evil pleasure. Hanged in a head upon hand. Hang in the were times. Hand hanging pleasure. Hand on the hanging. A gleeful pause for seven days. Hang the hand hanging were times sleeve on captain.Loose hang the hand. Sleeve the hoop on the sling. Sliding the were times in on the sly. Oh those were the were times, we will win on them were times. Loose hope hanging hand. Were within woe. Woe within were times. Were hanging hand we will wheel and on woo her, woo her woe wail and win her on woe. Who win the woo within wailing win scurrying were times wailing sudden and daring, sullen and faded, sculling and jaded?Hang the hand on the woo within were times. Woo the woe with the hand upon wind. Hang within sever. Sever severely sullen and jaded wane on the woo within wind white we with woe. Wound within halls. We will sudden and woe. Wield the woe within walls. Hang hanging hand on the woo within wind. Greed will punish the toad. Hang the woo within wind. Wooden with walls. Hang on the were times worried with pause. Curried with wars. Aloof laden blank and afflicted with cause. Relief for a laugh wait in hand. Hand held the nail and then hammered in cross. Hand held in head. A high waters heave. A relief little woe. Side-singing. Peruse autumn trains. Dartboard the door. Quicksmart nails then. Pause.Very woe onto load-bearing members. Scurrying walls. A loose wall tune in doors. Two hand holding a sign of contempt. Return to our captain slaughter. Handing him on. Handling the hanging business. Hang a woo within were times. Report through the door to the were times. Were the her hanging were times to relearn all we were? Were we to relearn all we were ever been? Times to relean on, punning on pause. Times to relearn with good cause.We will pause relearn jape. And a tired allegiance to the hanging was. We will scurry and pause. We will rough waters conquest. Relearn on relying wait. We will scurry on relieving. We will worry with cause. Hang a tired allegiance to the woe hanging were times. Hang a tired relieving reliving remembrance to the hand upon head hanging hold of the were times. Hurried with wars. We will hurry of cause. We will cause this remembrance. We are taught with remembrance. Load within told. Remembrance pastimes. Scurry and vacate.
Loose hang the load upon head. Loose hang the head lest the high weight of load hang the hand within were times. And release waters load. Loose hang the hand lest the low weight of woo waits the waters in tow. And a fine weight of remembrance persevering relying in upon told. And a tired weight of remembrance hanging down upon head.In a loose hanging hand held the world. Hang with the hold. And a sigh of persuasion. Resulting in sewerage. Win the weight of the world. Win relate on remembrance. Win relate on in hand. Hand held the weight. Weight relate on the obverse side in upon head. Weight relate to the in upon world. Oh the world within pause. Wait a sudden wail of worry. Were on our own. And a teeth-clenching fool. Who held the hand in the wound on the walls? And a hand held the whom? Relief takes a laugh to the in on him days. A fine feel of friendly open pastures. Time takes a loose leaving shadow vagueness. Relieve autumn moans. Relive watered tones. And a time training perfume article shuttered. Too many people now will struggle in vagueness. The release form of friendly openness. And a time taken in were times. Back in the day.Hand in the were times. When a wee fortune falls. And a fortunate rest lie awake smiling untoward. Upturned and in shadows. Turned him in vague. We will speak onto shade. Hand a sigh of relief. In a peaceful relief gleam and purposeful toad.
“The second is an instrumental folkish thing that devolves into a battle between squids wearing black rubber raincoats.
“The third track is sung and perhaps the most “normal” moment here, with a meandering songlike structure and more compulsive verbiage.
“The fourth and final is almost 24 minutes of narration, swooping bass notes walking through the darkness, clattering spastic percussion, as the words seem to merge film noir dialog with surreal beat poetic train of consciousness.” – George Parsons, Dream Magazine #5
For the b-side of the album I finally emerged, and crossed town from Mt Victoria to Aro Valley.
Simon O’Rorke played percussion on Revenge of the Smur – a xenochronous layering of three separate longform duo improvisations, plus a spoken word narrative.
At 23mins it remains one of the longest tracks I’ve made… part of the idea was to suggest a tension that’s never resolved, but that the listener can eventually adapt to (mirroring my life at that stage).
“An apocalypse of bacon!“
fiffdimension 