my power pop addiction, no. 37 (109)

I don’t generally respond well to the overproduced, murky production style that dominated so much of the music of the 80s, but nor do I favore the low-fi reaction against it. I don’t understand the appeal of music that sounds like it was recorded in a small bathroom. I want my music to be rich and full and clear. But there are a handful of exceptions, like New Zealand’s Tall Dwarfs – basically Chris Knox, Alec Bathgate, and a bunch of drum boxes – whose wonderfully off-beat albums for the legendary Flying Nun record label, Hello Cruel World and The Short and the Sick of It, occupied a central place in my consciousness for a few years when I was a student, first at Syracuse University then at Cambridge University. Again, Tall Dwarfs are far more arty and eccentric than most of the stuff I’ve been obsessing over these days, but there’s no point in getting hemmed in by rigidities. As long as this blimp is landing for a brief stopover in the South Pacific, I might as well take in some of the best stuff the region has to offer. …After parting ways with Bathgate, Knox became a solo artist and released a series of excellent, somewhat more accessible albums throughout the 90s. Tonight’s song is one of my favorite Knox tunes. I love the sentiment. For some reason, these guys from New Zealand always seem to say things in the way I would want to say them. Listen closely for how the fuzz boxed guitar kicks in at the middle verse, boosting the song's passionate vibe exponentially. Empathy is not something I give lightly, but by the end of the song I’m right there with Mr. Knox. I feel the desperate intensity he feels, and I cross my fingers in the hope that he’ll get what he wants…