Moon Lander – Moon Lander (Bandcamp)

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Wellington singer/songwriter Anthony Lander has found a way to turn a mucus-plagued afternoon into inspiration for a collection of ironic songs that both mock and celebration self-loathing in equal measures. 

The wonderful thing about indie recordings is the promise of unearthed potential, that wee nugget, just lying under the surface waiting to be discovered.  With the help of the internet we can all do our own A&R – cut out the middleman.  So, to increase your collection here’s one small gem for your collection.

Songwriter Anthony Lander cut his musical teeth as one half the song-writing team with Wellington’s Moses before they ‘upped-sticks’ and headed over to Berlin, leaving him ‘bandless’.  Well, sort of, as he’s now recruited a few mates or his live shows including keyboardist and singer Penelope Esplin (French for Rabbits, Grawlixes, Prophet Hens); guitarist Logan Valentine (Anthonie Tonnon and the Finance Company) and drummer Oli Bridgman (Fat Children).  Initially, though, Moon Lander was a solo project, with some production assistance and musical help from Warwick Donald plus the odd interloper.  And like all good things, it morphed.

I could be wrong, but his opener Lemon and Honey is a sort of longing cry from the bed of a troubled Man-Flu suffer pining for his long-lost girlfriend.  Not for love, you understand, but because he misses her cold remedies and bed side manners.  It’s a typical ‘woe is me’ hue and cry, all done in a delicious dead pan delivery.

That song’s book-ended by the closer Pseudoephedrine, a song that bemoans the perceived bureaucratic struggle in buying cold medication.  Lander’s so desperate for relief that he’s prepared to sign the register.  So, he trudges down to the pharmacy, head sunken in his coat, looking seedy and shivering, feeling like a criminal.  Unwittingly, he’s written the sinus sufferer’s version of The Velvet’s Waiting For My Man.  Almost immediately this song found friends on the student radio network.  They all knew what he was on about.    Mainly a guitar lead affair you get smatterings of 80’s pop and plenty of lo-fi heroes like The Clean drifting in and out of the mix.  The fuzz and nasal vocals are particularly reminiscent of that band.

Lander explores other ailments on I Could Go Out Again (his version of The Specials Friday Night, Saturday Morning).  Musically, lifts the template from the 1980’s Flying Nun arsenal.  A simple three chord strum pop song about getting wasted, recovering and getting back in the game.  Not much to it but a good reason to pogo around the living room while putting on yer make-up and dolling up for a night on the tiles.  Perfect – takes me right back to my own student days.  Nothing’s changed there.  Why should it?

Talking of templates This is a Test could well be a bit of a homage to The Front Lawn, especially their iconic song How You Doin’?  With lyrics about a band keeping in tune, in time and on the same page mentally it seems all so innocent.  But perhaps behind the lyrics there’s a little bit of personal drama, too.  Hidden in those lyrics is a little bit of intimidation.  And given Lander’s connections with the Grawlixes, who made their latest release on the fumes of their own relationship breakdown, I can’t help drawing a few parallels.

Most of the songs here are simple guitar and drum affairs.  Dateline employs a few more musicians to tell its strumming tale of travel and long distance relationships.  It instantly felt comfortable, like I’d heard it before – maybe Julianna Hatfield, or Belly or Evan Dando.  Whatever, the case I like this album.  For me, it’s a return to the indie pop I grew up on and a brilliant antidote to the tedious and irritating auto-cue nausea that’s infecting not only mainstream radio but student airwaves as well.  Welcome back, 1987!

Ok, so Lander’s project might seem like the ramblings of moping student stuck in his damp, mouldy flat snuffling away about lost love and drinking too much Irish Moss but dive under the pile of tissues and you’ll find some wonderfully acerbic humour put to the classic Kiwi soundtrack.  Like the popular headache remedy, I’d recommend you listen to this but don’t feel obliged to call me in the morning.  And of course, seek psychiatric help if pain persists).

Tim Gruar

 

 

 

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