Kiwi Nuggets

Rip It Up, Issue 110, 1 September 1986, Page 3

Kiwi Nuggets

Last Man Down's Ross Mullins

Last year saw the quiet arrival of Ross Mullins and his band Last Man Down on the music scene. But despite the low key release of the album State House Kid, it quickly became noticed as a work of rare quality and individuality. What was remarked on most of all by the uniformly praising reviewers was Mullins’ determined New Zealandness he brought to his songs.

Now, with the release of his second album This Sporting Life Mullins has developed those images of Godzone further. “Writing about New Zealand is something I’ve chosen to do, but it's lead to some misunderstanding,” he says. “Some people think, it’s local, therefore it’s great. But you can write atrocious songs with local placenames — there are lots around, mainly comedy songs. I’m trying to do it at a level where it’s

artistically viable.’’ Misinterpretation of Mullins’ stance can also be a problem.“ People try to use my music to reinforce their prejudices,” he says. “Take the song ‘Pinehead’ — it’s fairly vicious, but it’s ambiguous, like a lot of my tunes.” ‘Pinehead’s not so much ambiguous as subtle. The story of a Taranaki farmboy who became an All Black and a national hero after beating the Boks in ’65, it has a Randy Newman-esque sting in the tale that will prevent it becoming a singalong down at the clubrooms. Mullins says he’s a slow songwriter, and talks in terms of crafting his music and lyrics. “My best songs are two to three minutes long, I like to hone them down. Mine is not an expansive creativity, but one which pares things down.” The result is a clarity to his work, enhanced by the simple but elegant low-budget production of This Sporting L/7e.“ Both LPs were made on shocking budgets,” he says. ""‘State House Kid cost $3500, and this one $5500, and the money ■ didn't go as far. It’s frustrating — there are some things I’d have cleaned up, and it will be quite a long time before I record again. With a low budget, the flaws and faults in your songs are exposed, whereas with a big budget, the bullshit can be covered up with gloss. That’s true for a lot of mainstream

albums.” The traditional blues ‘This Sportin’ Life’, the only non-original on the album, provides the theme. “I used to play a lot of blues and R&B and 'This Sportin’ Life’ I always perform — “This mean ol’ sportin’ life is killing me” — it’s a great statement about New Zealand life. I'd worked out before State House Kid was done that I wanted to do an album on that theme.” With This Sporting Life Mullins says he has now completed phase one of a cycle. “I wanted to do the second album fairly quickly, to show that I wasn’t a fly-by-nighter who fluked one. This completes a statement I started with the first LP. Now I’m thinking of a third album, and I can’t afford to produce anything shoddy. You only do it for the love of the art in this country, there’s no other reason. “The hard part is getting people to hear the albums. That’s the trap of all New Zealand musicians — radio exposure.” Despite the quality achieved on a tight budget, commercial radio will still use production standards as their “out clause” for playing New Zealand music. And with no air-play, there’s no money to improve the next recording. Mullins talks despairingly of an Auckland radio station recording their own nonsense songs with their top jock to up their New Zealand content. The live performances of Mullin’s band Last Man Down have been few, purely because the musicians are in such demand elsewhere. Horn-men Chris Green and Mike Russell are well known as the Newton Hoons, 20-year-old trombonist David Colven is on his way to big things according to Mullins, while bassist Bob Shepheard and drummer Mike Visser are sought-after session players.

“I have a funny relationship with the jazz community,” says Mullins. “One jazz player said what I’m doing is more relevant than much New Zealand jazz. I don’t entirely agree, I don’t see myself as a jazz musician because jazz is about improvisation, and I’m a writer.”

Also, the subtlety of Last Man Down’s music provides a problem — where to play live? “Our music doesn’t work properly in rock venues, with no hype or lights and a small PA. I think I was happiest when we started out at the Performance Cafe, where people go along to listen to the words, the music’s not deafening and you can get really close to the audience.” Last Man Down do the occasional pub gig, or concerts in intimate venues like the Performance or Java Jive cafes, the Pumphouse or art galleries. They’re playing Auck-

land's Cotton Club on September 21, and tours are planned.

“I have a firm idea of where I’m going,” says Mullins. “I started very late in music — at 15, and I didn’t perform in public until I was 25. And with my academic and literary studies [Mullins has a doctorate in French literature] there's a lot to call on. Maybe I’ll go down as an eccentric.”

Not eccentric, but a New Zealand character — gifted and determined, against the odds, to be heard.

Chris Bourke