Luke Buda with Dream Chambers, Wine Cellar 8 July

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Billed as Luke Buda ‘coming out of solo retirement’, this was an evening of ethereal electronica and wry new songs.

Jess ChambersFirst the electronica. Jess Chambers, once a NZ-based folk musician now has a HQ in Nashville. Rather than the stereotypical country influence of that city, she has found the largely lyric-less world of synthesizers and vocal processors. As Dream Chambers, she opened her set saying we’d be taken on a “sonic journey” ad that we should “lean into the frequencies”. That we did.

Behind an apparent tangle of cables looking like a generous serving of psychedelic pasta, she served up generous soundscapes. One minute these were delicate ripples, the next percussive whirring. At times, I heard hints of Phillip Glass. But mostly her repeated refrains were, like most dreams, unprecedented.

Jess ChambersWhen I later asked, Jess said the pieces were simply titled Patch 1, 2 and 3. One piece that featured her synthesized vocals was a version of Wanderer, which had an earlier life as a folk song.

It was a performance to watch as well as hear; her concentration and immersion in the sounds summoned from her Moog had an intensity that was rewarded by a certain reverence among those seated in the cosy Wine Cellar.

Luke Buda

Luke Buda then stepped out alone. No Phoenix Foundation mates, no accompanying musicians. He admitted to being a little nervous, a hint perhaps of self-revealing songs to come like My Naked Body.

Luke BudaRotating around keyboard, electric then acoustic guitars, he offered mostly a sample of tracks from his forthcoming solo album. The new songs ranged from self-parody triggered by aging (I’m a Bit Out of Shape, My Naked Body) to state-of-the-planet concerns (such as the catchy Here Comes the Wind). The latter is one of a group of three co-written with novelist, poet and musician Damien Wilkins (of the Close Readers).

Any earnestness in these songs only lies between-the-lines. Upfront is the banal experience of environmental degradation with lines like “The river I swam when I was a child/Can’t go three now, they put up a sign”.

These songs, as with all of Buda’s offerings, are catchy and accessible. As tacit pleas that we take stock and act on the state of our land and seas, they join an infrequent lineage of Kiwi songs expressing environmental alarm stretching back to John Hanlon’s Damn the Dam in the early 70s.

Luke BudaWith a momentary break for a cup of calming ginger tea, the set began to wind up with Phoenix Foundation favourite Flock of Hearts from Buffalo, having earlier treated us to Miserable Meal (off the recent Friend Ship). While the band is one of New Zealand’s best, there was a delight in hearing these songs stripped back to the solo performer and a single instrument.

This was a night in which Buda’s (& Wilkins’) lyrics took centre stage and invited re-listening. We’ll get a chance, thankfully. Luke said he’d be back in October with his ‘solo band’.

Robin Kearns

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Luke Buda
Jess Chambers

 

 

Robin Kearns
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