Album Review: Certain Death

There’s a publicity shot of Te Whanganui-a-Tara based musician Elliott Dawson (who also plays in Wiri Donna) dressed like a ‘sad dad’ standing in a swimming pool at nighttime. Is he drowning or waving? Why the brown suit and 70’s tie? Is that nostalgia or irony? Is this self-reflection, a pushback against traditional masculinity or is something else going on?

Deep, like the pool, Dawson’s music is not your light touch, shallow stroke indie pop. Listening requires both a snorkel and an aqualung before you dive in.

Certain Death, Dawson’s sophomore release stares down mortality, blasts it for being late to the party, and forgetting to bring the wine. “This record took a lot out of me,” he says, “I did a lot of staring at the ceiling and scratching my head, like do I really want to go there? Some things are better left in the ground, and this one felt like exhuming my own remains”.

This is, at time unrelenting, angry rock music, inspired by British post-rock (I’m thinking Idles, Sleaford Mods, maybe), Avant-jazz, unconventional groove, industrial guitar washes, whilst indulging in Dawson’s penchant for lyrical absurdities.

Dawson’s first album (Hang Low) was highly conceptual, often bizarre and quite challenging. This time, Dawson says, he looked to be “authentic” and express himself directly, draw on his own experiences and vulnerabilities, not hiding in characters or metaphors.

Yet, to the uninitiated the listen is still highly chaotic.

The album opens with a short stanza or two on Hamilton Central Station, the cacophony of an arriving train and Dawson’s manic, despairing vocals lamenting the demise of rail. Snippets of youth and belonging. Limitations of travel. A possible metaphor for current and past socialisations. I love the opportunity to overlay one’s own interpretations on tracks like these.

Quarter Life, one of the album’s singles, is a manic, desperate release. A rush, a surge of power, culminating in a car crash of guitars and horns (remember how the Beatles’ A Day In The Life ends?). Is Dawson facing the inevitable? Giving up: “I’m killing my time / Signed my brain off on a leasehold / The what is when / The when is why / Settle in for the long haul …” Or is he fighting back: “I wanna know why / You made me think that I had no chance / I see my death / I know it’s coming back.” Cryptic chaos, indeed.

With its grungy opening guitars and desperate synths, You Made Me is possibly Dawson’s most gothic offering on this album. His voice reminds me a little of Bryan Ferry, in the quieter moments, until the chaos builds in an accusation assault of bitter behaviours and justifications.

Moving slower, Speaking Frankly is a good grudge held tightly: “Everybody / Knows but no one’s there / No one man / Accounts for the mess…they say it’s too late.” Dawson’s considering his best (or worst) character traits, but also trying to justify his actions, even when they can’t be defended. The song’s inspiration calls on a toxic relationship of two good friends in a wider friend group. While they all knew that one person was mistreating their partner nobody stood up and took responsibility for calling it out or intervening. In the saw, I think Dawson’s including himself in that, too. T

Going Nowhere might be dripping in synths but plays like a more conventional pop song, perhaps layered with plenty of 80’s New Romanticism. Whereas It’s Not Enough is more like an ecclesiastical torch song. The church organ at the beginning and the drifting pace is an even deeper dive into the worlds of Alphaville, (the aforementioned) Blue Nile and Talk Talk.

Hard Earned Thirst provides yet another layer of cynicism. Whereas I Don’t Want To Have To Ask The Question is considerably more funky. There’s a swaggering bass groove from Harrison Scholes (Wiri Donna, Arjuna Oakes)) and some mighty horns from saxophonist Lily Rose Shaw (Revulva, Dawn Diver) and James MacEwen (trumpet, piano, and keys). All three feature in various incarnations on the album alongside sax player Elizabeth Hocking (Revulva, Octopus in Heels) who helps on Quarter Life and Going Nowhere. And, if we’re going to mention musical friends then let’s also name drop Olivia Campion (Yumi Zouma, Revulva) on drums and synth player Reuben Topzand (Neil MacLeod). Of course, we can’t forget Bianca Bailey (Wiri Donna) adds her voice to backing vocals all over the place. Pretty much the old Eyegum collective crew and some of Welly’s favourite people.

Now’s also a good moment to mention that the album was recorded and produced by James Goldsmith (DARTZ, Wiri Donna, Recitals) at various times throughout 2023.

The single Calling Time stands out. With a groove that reminded me of the Blue Nile (a fav from the 80’s), especially with Rose’s lamenting, haunting jazz sax interludes. On the surface this looks like a breakup song. It kinda is. It’s those close friend relationships we neglected when distracted by other shiny stuff. Then we turn around and realise those people have left town and we’re all alone, without them. “Did I convince you? / Or have I always been too far behind / I swear I’m here now / So you go and I stay / I don’t own your time or your place / Shall we call it time?”

Not quite. We have one more track to go. The name says it all. This is a full jazz-blasting rocket ship. The high intensity of pain exposed becomes entertainment. I wonder if the ‘drama’ of reality shows like ‘Married At First Sight’ or one of those awful catfish shows was inspiration for this.

Is this the singer substituting in as the vulnerable and exposed? A victim, lured by producers. How did they get here? Is this part of a show or a real relationship? “I know you’re getting off on this / It’s strangely pornographic / I’m just trying to get paid, not share in my pain / I Think this interview is over / It’s time to go / so I pick up my clothes / These things are mine to hold.”

For me, Certain Death was an open book of interpretations, a dramatic ‘maximist’ deep dive. Every time I listen; I go further down the rabbit holes. Good music should do that, sometimes. It should challenge your perceptions and discomfort you occasionally. Elliot Dawson knows one thing. Death is Certain. But what is uncertain is what brings him here. Love, life, relationships, certainty, ambiguity. Is that the point he’s making?