EP Review: Live at Te Korokoro o te Tūī

Live at Te Korokoro o te Tūī is the new EP from Ōtepoti/Dunedin-based IVY, recorded at the recording studio/production complex housed within the University of Otago. It features four songs from the 2025 album Hush, along with new single Gutter. Vocalist/Guitarist Jesse Hanan has said of Gutter that it is “basically about frustration with the current geopolitical situation”, and he goes into greater detail here.

The EP opens with Invasion, a deftly played guitar arpeggio flows forth, clean and clear, infused with both a dark beauty and a pensive tension. Hanan’s vocals come in almost hesitantly, along with gentle forays of sparse background sounds and single notes, his voice having qualities not dissimilar to Thom Yorke and Matt Bellamy. The bass and drums are brought in at around the halfway mark, and Invasion becomes an altogether different proposition, still with a sense of reserve, but with more breadth and depth. That fullness continues to unhurriedly inflate, until the gentle release of its ending drifts off on guitar.

Next up is Loon, and this one has the whole band in together on a four-count from Ocean Wilson, who then proceeds to lock in with Connor Cooper’s big, solid bass playing to create a magnificently massive groove, laying a thick foundation for the addition of the artfully complementary layers of guitars, violin, and vocals. Loon is a song of contrasting moods and changing colours, at times gigantic, at others reflective, stripping the layers back to just vocals and rhythm section, the fullness of the band washing in and out in waves.

It’s an IVY with more darkness and danger on Gutter. That dirtied guitar intro doesn’t go where you expect it to, and it’s hook-laden territory from there onwards, with hints of post-punk sensibilities. There’s a compelling drive to the groove, and the overall dynamic continues to build, this is much more of a rocker than the two previous tracks, James Axton’s guitar parts delivered with considerably more aggression and abandon, reflecting the lyrical explorations of the song’s topic. It started with a guitar part going to unexpected places, and ended in an equally surprising way, abrupt yet succinct. A strong offering as a new single, thoughtfully crafted, a statement of intent from a band on a continued upward trajectory.

By contrast, Colours In The Sky is a much more sedate affair, the guitar intro almost languorously strummed, the mood getting no less floaty and dreamy when the other instruments join in. There’s an ebb and flow to the energy, but it’s smooth and slight, this song breathes, with the soft swells and gentle releases of any good love song, Louis Stevenson’s violin adding some beautifully apt romance. Its contrast again, as that same violin joins the guitar in the eeriness of the intro to final track Blank White, which twists yet again into a soft and laid-back mellowness. IVY have a masterful grasp on knowing when to leave space, and when to fill it. This song continues to bloom and grow, with more texture exploration on this track, with the violin in particular showing many different facets of its personality. Blank White evolves into something more chaotic and frantic, a frenetic jam session of layers and colours, before bowing quietly out and bringing the EP to a close.

Live at Te Korokoro o te Tūī is an all-too-brief snapshot of what IVY are capable of, perhaps a stop along the way towards much greater things. A finely balanced curation of darkness and light.