New Zeal

AH! New Zealand… land of sheep, kiwis and hobbits. But new music?

Something interesting is stirring Down Under, with the land of the Maori showing it’s about more than just Dame Kiri Te Kanawa and Crowded House, by turning out a clutch of very cool new bands. And at the centre of this South Seas bubble are Phoenix Foundation.

The Wellington band have a fine line in progressive, melodic off-kilter dream pop which has seen them described as their country’s best-kept secret. Only now the secret is out.

Sam Flynn Scott, Luke Buda, Conrad Wedde, Tom Callwood, Richie Singleton and Will Ricketts have, after years of plugging away on the other side of the world, finally made the breakthrough they dreamed of – by cracking Europe.

I caught up with guitarist and singer Luke midway through a tour that on Wednesday sees them play Oxford’s Jericho Tavern. So where are they now?

“We’re in gay Paris,” he says, in a lazy Antipodean drawl. Is it really that gay? I ask.

“In our van it is,” he deadpans. “Not outside though. We’ve just been remarking on how intolerant Parisians are for people who don’t understand Paris. To them, you’ve got to know where you’re going, or you can get screwed. It’s not like that in New Zealand; people there are pretty mellow.”

Considering the excitement surrounding them, you might assume Phoenix Foundation to be a new concern. Not a bit of it.

“Conrad, Sam and me first started jamming when we were 14 – that was 18 years and four albums ago,” says Luke, who was actually born in Poland.

So what took them so long to make it over here?

“A lot of New Zealand bands have moved to London and it’s destroyed them,” he says. “We wanted to make sure everything was right before we did this.

“There was no point coming here if no one was working with us. Even now we’re not going to be playing Wembley.”

The tour follows the release of their fourth album Buffalo, a lovely slab of uplifting sunshine pop, which catches them at their most surreal and colourful.

“There was a lot more collaboration on this album, and the lyrics reflect that,” says Luke.

They include the album’s title track – a song described by Conrad as about a buffalo moving along the seabed, cleaning up the oceans. Spacey or what?

“Yeah,” agrees Luke. “The song actually started off as a song about the ‘sea phone’ calling the plankton home. We didn’t like that, but decided to keep the aquatic theme.”

The album, which was recorded in the band’s practice space at the Wellington Car Club, an old shed shared with an oily crowd of rally drivers, sounds like the product of either a fevered mind or a band with a penchant for altered states. What, I ask, are they on?

“Nothing too crazy,” he says. “We are all far too low-key. If we need some psychedelic inspiration we might have some herbal tea. We don’t even drink that much. What we like before a gig, more than anything, is an interesting selection of salad.

“Cocaine and heroin? Nah… we just want to know where we can get rocket and walnut!”

And, he says with a combination of disappointment and relief, they are not bothered by groupies, either. “Most of the guys in the band are not married so are still virgins,” he coughs.

Such clean-living must be keeping him young? “It’s too late for that,” he answers. “I’m 32, but am older at heart. The funny thing is that even though we exist in a micro-world – New Zealand – we’ve got to the point where we are reasonably controlled about things.”

The interest surrounding the band, and their sublime low-slung guitar and synth-scapes, and by turns romantic and absurd lyrics, is part of a wider buzz around New Zealand’s burgeoning music scene, which includes the likes of The Ruby Suns, James Milne, aka Lawrence Arabia, Connan Mockasin, and, of course, The Naked and Famous – all of whom must surely be in debt to Phoenix Foundation for blazing the trail.

“Other New Zealand bands could not exist without us” Luke jokes. “Especially The Naked and Famous.” Then adds, more seriously: “We’ve been around for a while, but are only responsible for our own hits.”

Still, with their wry observations and self-deprecating humour, it’s impossible not to compare them to that other formerly-struggling Kiwi band – Flight of the Conchords.

I expect Luke to shrug off the reference, but he laughs and agrees.

“Well, yes, I’ve known Bret for years,” says Luke. “I played with him a year before they went and made their TV show, and we are still friends. The level of success they’ve had is unreal for a New Zealand band. The fact they are on TV in the US with New Zealand accents is a triumph.”

For now though Luke is looking forward to getting over to Britain.

“It’s going to be good,” he says. “And don’t forget I’m Polish, so I am also hoping to get a job building and plumbing. I don’t care what I do, as long as it’s manual!”