The Chills, nearly 35 years after coming together in Dunedin New Zealand and fronted as always by Martin Phillipps, are releasing a new vinyl single. “Molten Gold” b/w “Pink Frost,” out now through Fire Records, provides vibrant testimony to the heights of Phillipps’ pure pop vision, its two songs refreshingly unburdened by the stature of his past achievements.
I must confess to feeling just a twinge of envy in regard to the numerous guitar pop fans that have yet to make the acquaintance of the estimable Martin Phillipps. It’s not necessarily that the first occasion is the sweetest, but rather that the initial moment of discovery is distinct, the inaugural taste easy to recollect decades later.
Where was I the first time I heard The Chills? Unspectacularly, in the stereo room of a shared abode, though I did give my freshly acquired copy of “The Lost EP” at least a dozen spins on that day alone, primarily because the songs were so damned good, but also due to my persistent doubts over a batch of simple guitar pop being, well, so damned good.
New Zealand’s breakout indie label had their hands in a diverse range of early offerings, but alongside The Clean, The Verlaines, and Tall Dwarfs, The Chills are a cornerstone act in what’s described today as the Flying Nun Sound; with due respect to more famous countrymen the Brothers Finn (of Split Enz, Crowded House, etc), Martin Phillipps can be accurately (if of course arguably) lauded as the great Kiwi pop auteur, mainly due to assured breadth of artistry.
If chart success outside his home country essentially eluded Phillipps, this fact could be chalked up not to overbearing creative ambitiousness but to regular fluctuations in lineup frustrating The Chills’ momentum, though transcending indie distribution to get signed by Warner Brothers’ subsidiary Slash in the US (as did The Verlaines) is certainly nothing to sneeze at.
Unlike some of his influences, Phillipps’ modest commercial gains and reliance upon a once constantly shifting support group has kept his aims from spilling overboard into excessiveness (he’s no Brian Wilson). Exceptional evidence is provided on the a-side of the latest Chills 45, with “Molten Gold” exploring the baroque as it remains grounded in a lean, precise pop realm.
The song’s been making the rounds for a while now, emerging last year as a digital only release in celebration of its composer’s 50th birthday. Where the mature output of many musicians exudes an essence that leads directly back to the era in which they began staking out territory, “Molten Gold” operates differently, instead possessing the reliable timelessness that partially characterizes Phillipps’ work.
The soaring strings immediately deliver a substantial beauty move and continue to accent the proceedings while never being carried too far, the judicious lushness combining with a sturdy backbeat as lively guitar and the leader’s voice, a grand blend of experience and lingering youthfulness, carry the tune. It’s a gem deepened by breathy, almost subliminal backing vocals, a concise solo and in the final seconds chiming bells.
And don’t think for an instant that Phillipps is celebrating greed. He’s singing about love, man. It’s a song of considerable quality, one that exceeds any post-punk or even indie pop associations to arrive at an immediate and contemporary verve. There’s something inherently life-affirming in the DNA of well-executed guitar pop, and listening to “Molten Gold” on the uncommonly mild summer evening of this writing makes me feel momentarily like a younger man.
If the accompanying track here supplied merely half the goodness as its a-side it would still be a winning 7-inch. However, the flip stands as far more than just adequate backup; “Pink Frost” is a re-recording of a prime slice of Chills brilliance and indisputably a selection on the shortlist that basically defines the melodic core of the whole Flying Nun shebang.
Attempted fresh takes by artists of their own long-established classic compositions are a pretty rare occurrence, but the results are consistently subpar, frequently because overzealous import is invested in the endeavor as a simultaneous surface detachment is displayed; everything seems cool calm and collected on the outside, but with minor assessment the underlying desperation can be detected. Things virtually always end up reeking of flop sweat.
Naturally, the easiest maneuver around the situation is a live album, but the plain truth is that the vast majority of the breed barely attains mediocrity. A relevant exception to the norm is the ’13 2LP Somewhere Beautiful, a terrific Chills career summary greatly enhanced by its sense of scale, the audio captured at a combo birthday party and New Year’s Eve bash documenting performances by the unusually stable third-ever Chills quintet, its personnel comprised of Phillips on guitar and vocals, James Dickson on bass, Todd Knudson on drums, Erica Stichbury on violin, and Oli Wilson on keyboards.
That’s the group featured on this single, the collective ease of familiarity surely an aspect in the productivity found on each side. But the reason here also comes down to a lack of unearned pomp masking desperation in lieu of new ideas. “Pink Frost” excels with seeming casualness, as if Phillipps simply desired to hear this specific incarnation of his band tackle the tune in optimal sonic circumstances.
Casual but far from a facsimile; ears knowing the original might be stunned by the almost Germanic extension of the prelude, this version also a minute longer while impacting my ear as slightly more urgent and a smidge less fragilely airy than the ’82 recording. Fire’s promo lit mentions that “Pink Frost” has been played at nearly every Chills live show and has undergone significant evolution via those changing lineups.
Different but in no way lesser; when the band takes that sharp dynamic left turn early on, the first listen gave me gooseflesh, a reaction well worth noting since I’ve heard the original easily over 100 times. As stated, Knudson’s drumming contains a hint of motorik and the guitar playing is superb, but the strongest element is the singing, Phillipps nailing the difficult aura he established in ’82 minus a trace of staining.
Taken together, “Molten Gold” and the welcome new reading of “Pink Frost” are a double whammy, the pair helping to establish that Somewhere Beautiful was much more than a fluke of a great night from the midst of slowly declining late-career irrelevancy. It’s a total gas that Martin Phillipps, along with this excellent version of The Chills, is still crafting such gorgeous sounds. Pop music and qualitative longevity have a tenuous relationship at best, and when an artist solidifies that bond it deserves championing.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A
