Source: Radio New Zealand
On Strangers Again, the debut album by Wellington singer Hemi Hemingway (Waitaha, Ngāi Tahu, Kāti Māmoe, Te Āti Awa, Ngāti Mutunga), he wore his love of ‘50s and ‘60s song structure on his sleeve. The sounds were modern, the vibe less so.
His followup Wings of Desire involved expansion behind the scenes, working with a producer and embracing collaboration in general. The result is a clear levelling-up, both sonically and song-wise.
Most apparently, influences from the 1980s have joined the mix, Hemingway drawing on post-punk and New Romantic styles to great effect. This new aesthetic goes well with the yearning that fuelled his past work, and he leans into it here with abandon.
The words “dramatic” and “indulgent” have come up in PR and interviews with Hemingway, and while they could have negative connotations, Wings of Desire’s biggest strength is exactly these aspects. He’s been open that the songs stemmed from a breakup, and knowing that tempers any desire to label this music ironic.
Certainly there are moments like in the title track, when a saxophone mirrors the vocal line, followed by two succinct handclaps, that feel like a sly wink at certain types of 1980s music. But it’s all performed with such depth of feeling, and is so exhilarating, that these thoughts quickly pass. After all, sincerity sits side by side with pastiche in a lot of modern music.
There’s a hint of Springsteen-ish chest-beating on ‘Wings of Desire’, and a bit of Bowie in the next track ‘This City’s Tryna Break My Heart’. ‘Long Distance Lover’ sounds like the work of a Nile Rogers fan, and has some of the sleaze of modern-day Jonathan Bree. Guitar parts throughout the album evoke King Crimson’s Robert Fripp.
Whether any of this is intentional is not for me to say, but it does add up to a rich aural blend. Still, the most exciting moments are when Hemingway opens his mouth, moving between a smooth baritone, occasional falsetto, and selective moments of upper-register anguish.
One of those comes on ‘Promises’, when he wails “It’s all over now”. Lyrically on the nose and better for it, the line has been replaying in my head in between listens. He’s joined on the song by Georgia Gets By, their voices merging gorgeously.
On another duet called ‘Oh, My Albertine’, Vera Ellen trades verses with Hemingway before they unite in a devastating-yet-rousing chorus. Other highlights include the slinky ‘(To Be) Without You’ (my personal favourite), and closing tune ‘No Future No Future No Future’, which ends things with an explosion of catharsis.
It adds up to one of the most emotive local releases in recent memory, a record threaded with humour and tasteful arrangement that really soars when it lets the feelings fly freely.
– Published by EveningReport.nz and AsiaPacificReport.nz, see: MIL OSI in partnership with Radio New Zealand
