Issue 11 – Now That's What I Call Salient by Salient

Contents EDITORIAL.......................................................................................................................................................................................... 03 CONTRIBUTORS CALL OUT

PITCH GUIDE

NEWS University Library Spends on Digital, Not Physical, Resources................................................................................................... 06 Budget 2020 a "Missed Opportunity" to Tackle Student Hardship............................................................................................ 07 "Fucking Useless": QR Codes hit Wellington................................................................................................................................... 09 Opinion................................................................................................................................................................................................. 10 In Other News...................................................................................................................................................................................... 12 Tweets of the Week............................................................................................................................................................................ 13 FEATURES Hop On The Aux, Bro........................................................................................................................................................................... 14 April Sun in Cuba Street............................................................................................................................................................ ........ 18 Video Hasn't Killed The Student Radio Star.................................................................................................................................... 22 CENTREFOLD

POETRY

COLUMNS Going Nowhere.................................................................................................................................................................................. To Be Frank......................................................................................................................................................................................... Off Record........................................................................................................................................................................................... Bachelor of Parenting........................................................................................................................................................................ VUWSA................................................................................................................................................................................................. UniQ..................................................................................................................................................................................................... PSC: One Ocean................................................................................................................................................................................ REVIEWS Memories and Fireworks Dear Annie Album A Song That Deserved Better

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Salient is funded by VUWSA, partly through the Student Services Levy. Salient is kinda, sorta editorially independent from VUWSA. It’s a long story. Salient is a member of the Aotearoa Student Press Association (ASPA). The perspectives and opinions in any issue of Salient do not necessarily reflect those of the Editors.

ENTERTAINMENT Occupation Station Horoscopes

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Complaints regarding the material published in Salient should first be brought to the Editors. If displeased with the Editors’ response, the complaint should then be brought to the Media Council. Complaints should be directed to info@ mediacouncil.org.nz.

Editorial NOW THAT’S WHAT I CALL SALIENT IS THE SOUNDTRACK TO YOUR COMING OF AGE FILM.

You’re sat in the back row of the bus, R100 on blast. You’ve just spent $1.50 on the “Love the Way You Lie” ringtone. It’s the Rihanna version because your mother raised you right. You don’t have enough credit on your phone for the full audio so the first 30 seconds will have to suffice. Eminem’s verse is interrupted (thank god). You’ve just received a text from a random number. You struggle to pull your phone out of your pocket because your uniform skirt has been rolled too many times. You’re hoping it’s your crush, but really it’s that snot-nose prick that threw a chair at a teacher once. “If U liKe rIhAnna, U might lYk brUn0 M@rs” Your love affair with terrible music begins. By the time the Take Me Home Tour has touched down in Auckland, Haylor is over. Now is your time to shine. You’ve made your mum drive you and three of your mates to The Langham to wait outside the boys’ hotel window. You’re looking fresh as fuck. No media megastar could resist your Jay Jay’s jeggings and Supré cami. At the very least, you should be able to turn Liam’s head.

You’re an adult now, you’re 17. One Direction is now a distant, repressed memory (although their break up still fucking hurts). You and your friends stay in a hotel for the first time without supervision. After queuing overnight on Queen Street to go to The 1975 album signing, you head straight to the queue for the concert. In the sticky mosh you and your crush hook up to “fallingforyou”. It’s your final summer before going to uni. You’ve spent too much of your time on hold with StudyLink because you can’t figure out how to verify your identity. Stan Walker’s Black Box echos through your speaker phone as if it too was recorded off an R100 phone. And now here you are, in the hub of alty music—Wellington. You’re at San Fran listening to some edgy indie band your tinder date insisted on seeing. You like the song where they go “yeah yeah yeah”, but have mentally decided you’re heading home alone tonight to listen to Harry Styles’ new album.

Kirsty Frame (she/her) Rachel Trow (Kāi Tahu, Ngāti Tūwharetoa | she/her)

Suddenly, you’re thrown up against the glass by the hoard of teens and you see him. He lanks across the hotel foyer lankily. The other girls scream and tear at their hair but you remain calm and composed. You’re sure Harry will spot you through the crowd of normies. May the best Harry girl win. You’ve just experienced your first heartbreak. But like, it’s fine because your music taste is really good now. After calling your mum a bitch for no reason, you storm off to your room. You get on tumblr to stalk your ex. Logging into _mattyhealy’sbitch, you scroll through your ex’s posts, convincing yourself that every lyric reposted is a message meant for your eyes only. To feed your self diagnosed depression, you start playing “Asleep” by The Smiths. Silent tears roll down your cheeks. You decide to send him a selfie. He replies with the only words of love he knows. Send nudes.

Trimester 2 Issues WELCOME BACK Let’s try this again. Salient 2020 version 2: Electric Boogaloo. Think shit posts and denial. The last four months were just a fever dream.

QUEERLIENT The year's Queerlient issue is right around the corner and UniQ is on the lookout for contributors. Whether its features, reviews, visual art, poetry, or anything in between, we want to see it. Find us on social media or flick us an email to get involved! • EMAIL: uniqvictoria@gmail.com • FB: @UniQVUW • IG: @uniqvictoria

WEED You already know what it is.

WAN SOLWARA

Wan Solwara, the Pasifika Issue of Salient, is coming up and we want you! If you’ve got a story to tell, an opinion to share or a piece of art to showcase, get in touch with Leilani Vae’au (President) and Lofa Totua (Public Relations Officer) at wansolwaracollective@gmail.com.

If you’ve got a pitch for Salient, send your reckons to:

CONTRIBUTOR CALL OUTS

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Poetry: poetry@salient.org.nz

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Reviews: reviews@salient.org.nz

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News: news@salient.org.nz

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Art portfolios: designer@salient.org.nz

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Everything else—features, columns, creative writing, prose, shenanigans: editor@salient.org.nz

Salient's Quick and Dirty Guide to Pitching So you wanna write for Salient but you don’t know where to start? Firstly, if you have no idea what or how you want to write, that’s ok. Email us regardless. We’ve always got room for new contributors and we can look at assigning you topics to get you started, usually a news piece or a review.

If you’ve got something more specific in mind, here’s what your pitch should look like: 1.

Introduce yourself. Tell us who you are and where your pitch is coming from. We try to prioritise current VUW students, so please let us know if this isn’t you.

Tips for Feature Writers: •

We welcome non-features, i.e. creative writing, personal essays, prose, but we’ll need to make sure it works within the context of the issue. For example, Eat the Rich was political, academic, and highly researched, which called for more traditional features. This issue, Generations, is incredibly personal and emotional, so you won’t find any investigative pieces here.

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Personal essays are great and Salient always does them well. Our personal stories as students are valid and vital. However, a feature should not be just about you (sorry lol). If you haven’t left your desk, you haven’t written a feature. Talk to experts, and others within your community, and interview them about your chosen topic.

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A strong voice throughout the piece is essential. Bring your voice and experience to the piece, but support it with other perspectives from your interviews/research. See: Sunday Morning Coming Down, Salient Vol 83, Issue 02.

2. The Elevator Pitch: A short paragraph outlining the kaupapa of your piece. 3. Why? Tell us why your column/feature/review/ nudes/finsta/etc. belongs in Salient 4. Who? Tell us who your target audience is and how they will benefit from reading it. 5. How? Tell us how you’ll be constructing the piece. What will the voice be? Will it be personal or informative? 6. Extras: How might you collaborate with TV and/or Podcasts? What research may be involved? Are there any content warnings?

Lastly, you’ll need to show us what you’ve got. Send us a first draft of your piece and/or a portfolio of your other writing so we can get an idea of your strengths and style. Make sure you include your name/pseudonym, pronouns, and iwi/hapū affiliation in the header. We’ll keep posting upcoming themes here, but even if those don’t take your fancy, send through your pitch anyway. You never know, we do enjoy making our lives hell by throwing in an unthemed issue here and there.

So, go forth, write, keep writing, come back to us soon.

PITCH GUIDE

News

MONDAY 25 MAY 2020

University Library Spends on Digital, Not Physical, Resources SHANTI MATHIAS

Kelburn campus library. Photo credit: Finn Blackwell

Concerns have been raised that the university library’s collections policy is changing to further deprioritise physical resources. According to the VUW library’s Collection Development and Management Policy, the library currently “collects resources in any format that meets the research, learning and teaching needs of the University but prefers to provide resources in electronic format, including streaming, to ensure access from anywhere at any time.” “Exceptions may be due to subject preferences, accessibility issues, quality, suitability for purpose and cost.” An anonymous source at the library told Salient that the library may soon cease purchase of physical items altogether. The COVID-19 shutdown hastened changes by emphasising that reliance on physical resources jeopardised the learning of distance students. During the COVID-19 shutdown, the library was unable to provide physical resources to students and researchers or purchase new physical items for their collection. Under Levels 3 and 2, library users are able to have physical items couriered to them. The university said in a statement that they expect to soon be able to resume purchase of physical items. Changes to the library policy could mean that lecturers could not assign readings that the university does not have digital access to or own physical copies of already. Alumni only have limited access to digital resources.

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The university was unable to confirm how much they currently spend on digital learning platforms, which include Panopto, Blackboard, and Talis Aspire. The contracts they hold with these private companies prevent them from disclosing the price. However, a full Blackboard package is estimated to cost more than $250,000 NZD on average, and an organisational Zoom subscription costs $20 USD for each account. The university has helped students with limited access to digital resources by providing them with loans of devices to 60 students. The university now has 120 laptops which can be loaned to students. Purchase of these laptops cost $189,447.78. The university also approved 71 technology grants for students to purchase their own devices for study between 20 April and 8 May, spending over $62,000. The library is important as a place to study for many students. Julia, a marine biology student, said that she comes to the library most days to use the software on the computers and print things out, and that it was difficult to study at home. “The [library] hours are 10-5 right now, which is annoying,” she said. Neemia, an accounting student, said that he comes to the library to focus. “I found lockdown very challenging because I get easily distracted,” he said. “I prefer to read things on paper.”

Budget 2020 a “Missed Opportunity” to Tackle Student Hardship ANNABEL MCCARTHY | TE WHAKATŌHEA | SHE/HER

L-R: Jacinda Ardern, James Shaw, Grant Robertson. Photo credit: Pool/Getty

Budget 2020 has been labelled a “band-aid budget” by tertiary students, who say the Government missed a critical opportunity to address student hardship indefinitely.

Uepū Māori, also raised concerns about the lack of targeted funding “to ensure that Māori and other under-represented groups have the opportunity to benefit”.

The Budget, unveiled by Finance Minister Grant Robertson earlier this month, provided little relief for students currently enrolled in study despite a large investment in the tertiary education sector.

“Of the $1.6 billion, Māori trades and apprenticeships have been allocated $50 million or 3.1%,” they said.

A $1.6 billion Trades and Apprenticeships Training Package was announced to “get New Zealand working again after the COVID-19 pandemic”, but tertiary students themselves are only set to benefit from a separate $20 million student hardship fund. The $1.6 billion investment is part of a wider $50 billion Covid-19 Response and Recovery Package. It will fund courses in construction, manufacturing, agriculture, community health, counselling, and care work for the next two years as the Government gears up for a skills-led recovery from COVID-19. The New Zealand Union of Students’ Associations (NZUSA) said the removal of tuition fees is a step towards addressing the barriers to tertiary education, however, it “does not alleviate the substantial week-to-week cost of being a student”. “It suggests that the Government understands that the financial cost of tertiary education is a barrier to access,” NZUSA President Isabella Lenihan-Ikin said. The Tertiary Education Union’s Māori representatives, Te

The group also questioned whether the focus on trades and apprenticeships was a “narrowing of educational, career, and earning opportunities for Māori”. “We believe that education, in its full offerings across the whole tertiary sector and suite of qualifications, is our right.” The Government has, however, been praised for listening to tertiary students facing financial hardship arising from COVID-19 and delivering a $20 million student hardship fund. But, as Lenihan-Ikin said, “given that this fund will only provide short-term relief to students facing hardship arising from COVID-19, it fails to address the long-term challenges of poverty, financial insecurity and rising living costs that tertiary students are experiencing”. Victoria University of Wellington Students’ Association (VUWSA) echoed this sentiment and said, “it is a small allocation, particularly in comparison to other areas such as horse racing”, referring to the $72 million emergency support package allocated to the racing industry in Budget 2020. The hardship fund will be administered by tertiary education organisations such as Universities and Polytechnics via their

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own hardship funds and will be allocated to the students who they deem “need it the most”. Education Minister, Chris Hipkins said channelling the $20 million through existing hardship funds as opposed to the likes of StudyLink was the quickest way of getting money to students who are struggling. Students are then able to put that money towards basic living costs including food, rent, utilities, and other unexpected expenses.

"The group also questioned whether the focus on trades and apprenticeships was a 'narrowing of educational, career, and earning opportunities for Maori'."

Alongside providing direct payments to students, tertiary providers can also use the fund to buy resources on their students’ behalf, such as to re-stock a foodbank. Tertiary providers cannot use the fund to provide access to technology-enabled education and training; fund accommodation discounts for accommodation they provide; or cover the costs associated with administering the fund. Additionally, the Tertiary Education Commission will be required to publish and regularly update a list of all tertiary institutions who have used the fund. Included in this will be the total amount claimed and spent by each provider, the type of support provided and the number of students who have been allocated money.

National Party Tertiary Education spokesperson Dr Shane Reti believed the Government should have spent less on vocational education reforms, instead “targeting that funding where it’s needed most, at students”. “In an ordinary budget $20 million could be considered ‘a good start’ for a student hardship fund, but it’s hard to swallow when you see the Government spend $276 million on managing the tertiary education reforms,” Reti said, referring to funding allocated to the Government’s plans to merge the country’s polytechnics. Victoria University of Wellington earlier this year removed the cap on its Hardship Fund in response to COVID-19. The Fund is available to both domestic and international students and the University said it has paid out more than $500,000 in support this year. Students applying to the Hardship Fund will have their current income, essential expenses, and savings assessed “so an informed decision can be made”. Domestic students must have used up all entitlements available to them under the Student Loan scheme before applying to the Fund, including having claimed all $2,000 in Course Related Costs. These Costs are only available to students on a loan basis and cannot be put towards basic living costs such as food, rent, and utility bills. When asked if tertiary students could expect any further support from the Government, Education Minister Chris Hipkins told Salient “the Government [is] continuing to work through a range of approaches to kick-start New Zealand as we get into the recovery and rebuild phase”. “Precisely what further spending initiatives will look like has not been agreed,” Hipkins said.

The hardship fund can be claimed for hardship experienced between 23 March 2020, the date the move to Alert Level 4 was announced, and 31 December 2020.

“I can say however that bringing forward the extension of fees free was not actively considered as part of Budget 2020. Any further decisions on an extension to fees free have not yet been fully discussed.”

NZUSA said it had hoped the Government would deliver on

VUWSA said it hopes the extra $20 million will provide

its promise to reinstate postgraduate student allowance after the Labour Party campaigned on doing so in their 2017 election campaign. “Existing caps on these services, which shut disadvantaged people out of education, such as age restrictions and weekly limits, have not been addressed,” Lenihan-Ikin said. She also said student allowances and loan weekly payments remain at unliveable levels. “Going forward, the only way that the Government can truly support tertiary students is by introducing a Universal Education Income.”

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support in areas which have “so far been neglected” and will cater to students of all ages, “not just those under 55 and not just [undergraduate or full-time] students”.

“Fucking Useless”: QR Codes hit Wellington FINN BLACKWELL | HE/HIM

QR codes have been met with mixed reviews by consumers and businesses alike. This, coupled with the announcement of the Ministry of Health’s new contact tracing app, has created a system of tracing on a scale not yet seen throughout this pandemic. With Level 2 in full swing, many will be excited to return to their favourite cafes and restaurants for some semblance of normality. However, heavily enforced methods of contact tracing may make this more difficult for some. Alongside the usual sign-in sheets at entrances to both eateries and shops, Wellington City Council has introduced QR codes as a way to check-in and form reliable data on who is visiting where. These QR (Quick Response) Codes work much like a barcode and can be used through the Rippl app or by opening the camera on your phone and scanning it directly. Salient went to a few cafes around the city to gauge the response local businesses have had with this new system. One of the wait-staff at Floriditas commented that the codes were “particularly easy to set up, only took five minutes”. “The only issue has been that it works better when you have the app, rather than just using your phone camera” they continued. This attitude is not shared by all business, however, with one local business worker saying “they’re a fucking waste of time, no one uses it”. They went on to say that “If I hold them up [making them scan a QR code] then it takes time that I could use helping other customers. Older people are making the most of it but with all the different ways to sign in it becomes difficult”. With this new increased accountability for local businesses, many are finding that signing into an establishment using the Rippl based service is becoming the new normal. However, Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern has announced that yet another app will be coming to New Zealanders in the near future. On Monday the 18th, Ardern announced that the government was planning to release a “digital diary” app.

"Many of you will have been out and about over the weekend and seen that there have been the development of different apps to support contact tracing,” stated Ardern in a postcabinet press conference. “This version on Wednesday has been constructed through the Ministry of Health and is a nationally-consistent app that New Zealanders and businesses can use to record where they've been and when." According to the Ministry of Health website “NZ COVID Tracer is compatible with most mobile operating systems and devices. Future updates will include support for older devices and systems.” “If you don’t have a compatible mobile device, it’s a good idea to keep a manual record of the people you’ve seen and the places you’ve been in case it is needed for contact tracing.” “You can also make sure we have your current contact information by registering your details through the web app at tracing.covid19.govt.nz.” Those looking to download the app will need to have Android 7.0 or later for Android users, while Apple devices will need iOS 12 or later. Whether the introduction of this new app will create conflicts with the pre-existing system is yet to be seen.

“Ultimately they all have the same goal, to protect the safety and wellbeing of people.” There are those that are worried about the security and privacy of this new app. However, as stated on the Ministry of Health website, not only can you delete all location data recorded by NZ COVID Tracer, they also assure users that “The Ministry of Health has consulted with the Privacy Commissioner to ensure NZ COVID Tracer protects your privacy. NZ COVID Tracer has also been through independent security testing.” Wellington City Council Chief Digital Officer James Roberts told Salient that “We welcome the Central Government’s

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contact tracing app, which can be used across the whole country.” “Rippl is working well and has already had good uptake from business/organisations/facility registrations and users,” he continued. “It works similarly to Rippl with privacy first – which was central to our decision to go with Rippl.”

Roberts went on to say that “There are already businesses and facilities using more than one method, and these systems can coexist together.” “Ultimately they all have the same goal, to protect the safety and wellbeing of people.” Wellington City Council still intends to meet its commitment in providing up to 1,000 licences of Rippl for businesses across Wellington for the first 30 days of use.

Opinion Facial Recognition Software Designed

by Alt-Right Extremists, Covertly Trialed by

NZ Police Another Form of Colonial Violence NINA WEIR | SHE/HER

While we were waiting for Level 2 and the daily COVID updates, the New Zealand Police have been covertly breaching our rights. On the morning of May 13th, Detective Sergeant Tom Fitzgerald announced that the New Zealand Police had carried out a trial of Clearview AI facial recognition software. While they ultimately concluded that they would not be implementing this technology as “the value to investigations has been assessed as very limited” the testing of this software raised many concerning issues. This trial was not approved by the appropriate channels and the software tested was beyond problematic. Alongside the

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potential privacy breaches the software may have enabled, the programme itself was created by white-supremacists. A recent investigation of Clearview AI exposed extensive connections between many high ranked employees with anti-Semitic hate groups, white nationalists extremists, and other Alt-Right movements. Marko Jukic, the man who corresponded with the New Zealand Police about the software, has since left the company after being discovered as the author of excessive hate speech publications.

"The Police have displayed an extreme lack of transparency around exactly what the trial entailed, so it is unclear just how many New Zealanders had their privacy rights breached"

Despite the publication of Clearview’s ties to these radical groups being released in early April, the New Zealand Police were still trialling the software as late as May 11th. Even if you can’t see the problem with the Police, as a representative of the New Zealand government, allying itself with a company composed of white nationalists, there are several other problems with the software. Having people who hold these beliefs involved in the creation of the software likely means that it is not fit for purpose. While AI itself is a neutral tool, it “learns” through the data it is fed by its developers. This data, and thus the programme, can be affected by implicit human bias or in this case, explicit hate. The most famous example of bias in AI was Amazon’s Rekognition. This facial recognition software was independently tested and matched the identity of 28 members of the United States Congress with convicted criminals. These incorrect matches disproportionately involved people of colour. Although Clearview AI markets itself as 100% accurate, it has never been independently tested so there is nothing stopping the company claiming this. The overrepresentation of Māori and Pasifika people in the New Zealand criminal justice sector due to targeted arrests and harsher sentencing is a national disgrace. Yet the New Zealand Police have illegally trialled a software which could exacerbate this problem through inaccurate matches caused by coded bias. Among many other legal rights, this breaches New Zealand citizens’ right to be free from discrimination. Even outside the discriminatory effects of this software, this trial contravenes an untold amount of privacy rights. Facial recognition technologies are most effective when they have a large database of profiles, a catalogue of real people’s

identities, which the software compares an image against to find a match. The larger the database, the more content the AI can test against, and the more accurately it matches profiles. Clearview has 2.8 billion profiles on the database, mostly images illegally lifted from social media sites. It is more than likely many New Zealanders will be on the database. Not only have the Police allied themselves with whitesupremacists by using Clearview, but they are also endorsing illegal data collection practices and prioritising their own investigative powers over citizen’s privacy rights. Privacy Commissioner John Edwards responded to news of this testing in a very disappointing manner, saying he was “a little surprised by this one”. Given the sole role of the Privacy Commissioner’s Office is privacy protection, you’d hope for a bit more than “surprise”; something like outrage and decisive condemnation of the police’s actions maybe? The Police have displayed an extreme lack of transparency around exactly what the trial entailed, so it is unclear just how many New Zealanders had their privacy rights breached and how these rights were breached. Because the software’s matching ability would need to be comprehensively tested, I would hazard a guess that many people had their privacy breached over the course of the testing. New Zealand doesn’t have privacy principles written into our constitution like other countries, so we rely on the office of the Privacy Commission to protect our privacy rights and the lack of outrage they have shown is genuinely concerning. The public deserves greater accountability upon what this trial involved and how it was ever carried out without the appropriate approval. The Police’s refusal to respond to Radio New Zealand’s breaking of this story was especially shameful.

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In Other News TANGIHANGA NUMBERS EXTENDED

TAIKA WAITITI

CHINESE AMBASSADOR

Tangihanga numbers have been extended from 10 at a time to 50 at a time in level 2.

And celebrity friends read Roald Dahl books in charity event.

To Israel found dead in his Tel Aviv home

SIMON BRIDGES Has publicly called Paula Bennet ‘Paula Benefit’ for a second time, the first time being in 2018

WHAKAREWAREWA TOURIST SPOT LOSES VISITORS

PARKING TICKETS BACK IN WLG Wellington City has parking tickets being reintroduced to Wellingtonians post lockdown with over 500 issued so far.

Ashley Bloomfield has delivered info regarding a contract tracing app for COVID. Using the app is not critical but will apparently assist in getting NZ to Level 1.

Whakarewarewa village in Rotorua has lost a majority of its usual tourist presence due to the lockdown, the business is hoping to switch to educational purposes for a local market going forward.

NINE YEAR OLD

Australian boy saves mother and brother from house fire.

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GOVT INTRODUCES COVID-19 APP

JACINDA TAKES HARASSMENT CASE TO COURT

NEW ZEALAND POPULATION

After sending over 90 emails to the Prime Minister within the last 8 months, an Auckland man could be charged and sent to prison for 2 years.

Hits five million in the latest country statistics

Tweets of the Week

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Hop On The Aux, Bro WORDS BY JANHAVI GOSAVI | SHE/HER

I have what many may call ‘basic white girl’ music taste. I’m a slut for ABBA, show tunes, and the Top 40 chart. When I get asked what kind of music I listen to, I succinctly reply with ‘trash pop’ and pat myself on the back. An answer like that usually guarantees no follow-up questions. Me admitting I listen to trash uses the same logic as Rebel Wilson claiming her name is ‘Fat Amy’ in Pitch Perfect— so “bitches like you don’t say it behind my back”.

Our favourite songs are supposed to say things about us. In theory, you should be able to tell my star sign by analysing my ‘folding laundry’ playlist. But the music you listen to won’t always line up with how people perceive you. Which is all well and good, except I’ve just been asked to hop on the aux. I’m at a party full of people I vaguely know but desperately want to impress, and I’m realizing my go-to bops won’t satiate this crowd of intellectual wankers. I pull up my playlist, and pray for mercy. Racial stereotyping I’m deciding between “Dancing Queen” and “Take a Chance On Me”, but something stops me. Is being ‘basic’ how I want to define myself? To be basic is to be predictable, unoriginal, and low-brow. It's a neon sign floating above your head that reads “I am exactly who you thought I would be”. As a European woman, my mate Amanda takes the basic white girl trope as an advantage. “People hate on Ed Sheeran and One Direction but expect a white girl to like them [...] because my taste is more than that, they’re pleasantly surprised.” I can’t say the same. At university, I’m seen as a brown woman; a first generation immigrant; a student fighting for political causes—and then people find out Taylor Swift is my life force. They can’t compute. I’ve watched my peers malfunction before my eyes at the sheer juxtaposition of it all. Acquaintances try to logically explain it away. Maybe she said that to be controversial. Or she’s not a real feminist. She might just hate Kanye?

bubblegum for you?” They looked me up and down and said they’d always been fascinated with how girls come of age and “become women”. They felt that as I grew in maturity, I should look up to icons who exemplify female independence and sexuality. They suggested Beyoncé and Alicia Keys. “Then again, those women are black, so maybe you’re not interested.” Apparently, my love for a white artist made me less of a brown woman. Comments like these cut deep, as they usually come from other POC. The last thing I need is for someone to tell me that my source of happiness should line up with my ‘values’: for them to marginalise me by deciding what those values are, as if POC are not marginalised enough. I shouldn’t have to constantly project my identity to validate my citizenship as a POC. Sure, music is political. But shit, sometimes it’s just music. Dimitris understands racial stereotyping within music all too well. A 6ft, stocky, bearded Pasifika man, he doesn’t look like your typical K-Pop girl group fan. But that doesn’t stop him from stanning his queens. He explains how the internet’s proliferation allows us to immerse ourselves in different cultures, regardless of our geographic locations. “So I support the white kid who says ‘seki’ and my Chinese friend who loves Kolohe Kai,” he says. Dimitris doesn’t care that his taste is completely incongruous with his appearance, but assures me he still listens to what he’s ‘supposed’ to listen to—Spawnbreezie and Tongan hymns.

"Sure, music is political. But shit, sometimes it’s just music."

Last year, someone saw the Taylor Swift calendar hanging in my dorm room and sighed. “Isn’t she too childish and

FEATURE: HOP ON THE AUX, BRO

Cultural sensitivity I continue sifting through my playlist. My finger hovers over “Backseat Freestyle” for a second, but I adamantly scroll past it. Music doesn’t belong to anyone, but culture does. Love of music transcends cultural lines. Much like food, music is a language that connects us all and helps us better understand one another. This love comes with terms and conditions, an expectation that you stay in your jurisdiction and respect boundaries. Safe spaces are maintained with cultural sensitivity. A safe space looks like a flat party where a non-black person blasts Kendrick Lamar’s discography and appreciates it without appropriating it. But boldness invites judgement. For Emily, publicising her love for hip hop isn’t an easy move. A woman of Chinese-European descent, she either feels like a “wannabe” or “an art hoe trying to impress an e-boy she met on Tinder”. She’s afraid of taking up space that isn’t hers. And I get it. No one wants to be the white woman Kendrick called out at a 2018 concert, for saying the N-word out loud when singing along to “M.A.A.D. City”. Fear forces Emily to backtrack and question her motives. Does she truly appreciate the genre’s depth and lyricism, or is she “another privileged girl pretending to know about having a cousin shot down in Compton”. Neither of us have the answers. Sexuality I see “Girls Like Girls” pop up on my recently played tab. A female anthem always goes down well at parties. However, this particular one might not go down well with the cute boy across the room. The relationship between sexuality and music is an intricate one. Music is one medium through which to reclaim sexual orientations and reinvent sexuality as a whole. However, using music to pinpoint someone’s sexuality is tricky business.

WORDS BY JANHAVI GOSAVI

I remember being slumped on a couch at my hall of residence, watching Hayley Kiyoko’s music videos with several women who identified as *not straight*. We ooo-ed and ahh-ed as she pursued her love interest, squealing when clothes were ripped off and boobies were smushed together. “Of course a room full of gay women would scream at the sight of a boob,” giggled my friend. I sat up a bit straighter (pun intended). That wasn’t the first time I had my sexuality incorrectly assumed due to my music taste. I laughed it off and the jam sesh continued, but my internal monologue was reeling. Was it because I was the one to suggest playing her music in the first place? If I corrected my friend, would that make me sound homophobic? Should I be changing the pronouns I use when singing along to Hayley’s songs? I reminded myself that being straight in a queer crowd meant my doubts came from a place of privilege. Regardless of how I identified, the women I was sat with would never have used my sexuality to contest my worth as a person. For Lauren, her bisexuality becomes contested through her music taste. When sharing music with her gay friends, she feels “insecure about the lack of contemporary gay artists on my Spotify”. She senses the perception that her music is “too straight” and that others think “I don’t rep my sexuality well enough”. Bi invisibility has been a long standing issue within the LGBTQ+ community, with biphobic claims that bisexuality is a ‘phase’ and that bisexual people have the privelege of ‘straight-passing’. Adversely, Lauren admits if she was figuring out if the girl she liked was into women, she’d immediately consult her playlists for clues. These internalised assumptions fuel the notion that music is a reliable identifier of sexuality. Like I said, tricky business.

"Music doesn’t belong to anyone, but culture does."

Supporting ‘cancelled’ artists Aux cord in hand, I conduct a routine vibe check. Results: 2000s R&B. Let me take this moment to assure you that no matter the situation, 2000s R&B is always the answer. But, I digress... because I’ve almost pressed play on a Chris Brown chart-topper. If I decide to go out on a limb and play Chris Brown, I’d have a couple of choices. I could run from the Rihanna stan who's about to throw hands. Or I could ignore the side-eyes from everyone pitying me for thinking abuse is Brown’s only crime. Proudly supporting a cancelled artist puts you at the mercy of the people, who themselves are at the mercy of mob mentality. To be visibly woke is to maintain social relevance. A New York Times article titled “Everyone is Canceled” said it best: “People talk about the attention economy—when you deprive someone of your attention, you’re depriving them of a livelihood.” Your peers are less likely to give you attention if you support cancelled artists; doing so would risk their own cancellation, a price not worth paying for your questionable taste. Cancel culture has proven itself to be less of a spectrum and more of a binary. An artist is truly cancelled when their actions impact how much we listen to them, not just how we feel about them. So far, Ariana Grande’s ambiguous use of blackface to achieve an equally ambiguous ethnicity has not impacted whether I can add “God is a Woman” to the Spotify queue. Artists like Ari become the butt of many jokes without being problematic enough to officially cancel. We didn’t know any better when we danced along to “Kiss Kiss” at our Year 6 discos. But nostalgia’s attempt at seducing us into social regression remains futile. There are greater ideals at stake now. Defying expectations I’ve been frozen with the aux cord for what feels like a lifetime, when I finally stumble across “Old Town Road”, and laugh. Lil Nas X and I come from very different worlds, but we both refuse to be pigeonholed.

While white artists have swerved into historically black genres with little repercussion, the opposite has always faced backlash. Country music is widely thought of as white, conservative, and heterosexual. Lil Nas X didn’t fit into a mould you could logically market. Country music wasn’t ready for a then-closeted, now-out, gay, black teenager who made country-trap. He didn’t make sense. Originally released with just Nas on the track, country radio initially refused to play the song “Old Town Road”. This conjecture is what sparked the idea for a remix featuring Billy Ray Cyrus. The re-vamped song’s viral Tik Tok status made “Old Town Road” break the record for the longest run at No.1 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. At the 2020 Grammys, Nas collaborated with Billy Ray, BTS, Diplo, and Mason Ramsey to prove “Old Town Road” was the Disney crossover we never knew we needed. It made sense. This mish mosh of country, hiphop, K-pop, and EDM supported the simple notion that music was universal and could connect people from all backgrounds. *** Music is meant to make you feel safe. It's supposed to light a fire in your heart and get you dancing around naked in your bedroom. There comes a point where evaluating someone based off of their music taste stops being productive and starts being judgemental. You can be made to feel guilty for all manner of mundane things. It's the Vic Uni disease. But I’m not at a party to regurgitate the pretentious bullshit shoved down my throat by the University. Nor am I here to prescribe to someone else’s perception of me. I’m here to Shake It Off ™. I promptly shove the aux into my phone. I know just what to play.

FEATURE: HOP ON THE AUX, BRO

April Sun in Cuba Street WORDS BY MATTHEW CASEY & SALLY WARD

Taika Waititi, Lord of the Rings, Jacinda Ardern, American Football without pads, our nation is famous for a lot of things. Let's talk about our music. 18

Our music is a large cornerstone of our culture and has led us to fame on the world stage. We’ve seen Lorde performing at the VMA’s, and more recently, Benee’s “Glitter” popping off on TikTok. But have we forgotten that one of our greatest successes, which topped charts in 5 countries, “How Bizarre,” is by a group called the Otara Millionaires Club? The varying history of our nation's music has helped shape us into who we are today. Personally we think New Zealand Music is the best on earth. In celebrating 20 years of New Zealand Music Month, we look at why it’s the best. If the world thinks Jacinda’s cool, they’d be fizzing like your big $2 bottle from the local suprette if they heard “Not Many” (Remix). Defining ‘New Zealand music’ is not a task for the weak. Although, Andrew Witty has done a good job explaining the complexities to us. It could rest on where the influence is drawn, where the music was written or even who performs it. Witty explained that “NZ music identity is still highly contested in an NZ setting”. Some artists are seen as Kiwi overseas, but not perceived that way locally, ”muddying an already tricky dialogue”. For example, Natasha Bedingfield went to school here but not many of us would consider “Unwritten” an NZ greatest hit. New Zealand music accompanies a lot of firsts. I had my first kiss with Kids of 88 playing in the background at my intermediate social. In retrospect, it would've been terrible, and I definitely haven't improved my game since then. For a lot of us, our first time getting drunk was off some trash your older sister bought for Christmas in the Park, texting your crush for meet ups, with Broods playing on the big stage. It was the first time you watched a Scribe music video and wore a hat and hoodie, up until your grandad called you out for wearing a hat inside. New Zealand music is the tomato sauce to the fish n chips that is your life. Recently, Static88.1 host Joel Harrison talked about an RNV phenomenon. Whenever someone was posting at RNV (or even their lockdown throwbacks) they weren’t posting about Playboy Carti or RL Grime. They were posting about a 63 year old rockstar, who’s last hit single came out in 2005—Dave Dobbyn. While Loyal played, there were scenes of friends with their arms over each other's shoulders, tears flowing like the Waikato River, and it was truly beautiful.

"New Zealand music is the tomato sauce to the fish n chips that is your life." When everyone’s far too pissed at your Aunty Julz’ 50th and even dad’s had a few KGB’s, you are singing along, together, to the likes of “How Bizarre”, “Slice of Heaven” or “April Sun in Cuba”. The power of this shared community over that is a factor in why NZ music really delivers as a cultural tool. It doesn't have to be from the stereotypical mainstream. Your old man probably enjoys Dunedin rock,

Ladi6, and some cheeky Ben Lummis. It's something you share between the generations, you may have already introduced your little sister to Scribe and Lorde’s first EP. The beauty is that it brings you all together. No one sings about New Zealand like New Zealanders sing about New Zealand. Well, no one else sings about New Zealand (except U2’s “One Tree Hill”). We are a small island nation at the bottom of the Pacific like a little life raft. Most people think we’re part of Australia. It’s important that we listen to our own stories, and support those that are telling them, because no one else will. The weird thing about living on a little life raft in a globalised world is that we play a lot of international artists through our speakers, but they’re talking about their own streets. In 1981 Blam Blam Blam released ‘“There Is No Depression in New Zealand”. This came out against the backdrop of rising unemployment, growing resentment of the government and the Springbok Tour. The hook goes like “We have no dole queues/ We have no drug addicts/ We have no racism/ We have no sexism.” It’s an upbeat banger dripping in irony, articulating the feelings living in the shadows. Home Brew used the line “there is no depression in New Zealand” in their song “Listen to Us”. We’ve all missed the messages they’ve sent and gotten drunk in a shit house flat to “Alcoholic.” It takes skill to turn hard truths into something that sounds good playing out of your garage speakers. It’s a trojan horse of a song. These are important messages which provide a critique on important societal issues. At this point I’d rather hear it from Tom Scott than some gassed up first-year political science major (chill, the joke’s on Matt). Then there’s the straight up familiarity you won’t get anywhere else. We’ve all been to the fish n chip shop from the "Wandering Eye" music video. When David Dallas said “ain’t hexed my drive since my Honda civic got rusty,” I felt that. I never had a Honda Civic, but I know exactly what he means. It’s the perfect car for sneaking off to a woolshed party in. When Brett McKenzie pipes up with “ooo you’re a legend Dave” for getting “The Most Beautiful Girl [In The Room]” to his party, we all thought of a Dave. And of course, the Sky Tower in The Beths’ music video for “Happy Unhappy” is iconography at its best. We’ve only had proper sound recording equipment since the 1940s. "Blue Smoke" (1949) was the first song recorded here. It was written by Ruru Karaitiana with vocals by Pixie Williams. The song was picked up by that American dude Dean Martin (allegedly the ‘King of Cool’) and did well overseas, too. Their legacy has meant that other artists can do their work, for local and international audiences, wherever they call home. It’s good music. It’s been there for you, as Kids of 88 was there for Matt’s First Kiss, even though it’s probably better to forget that one. Just like everyday is Mother’s Day, every month is New Zealand Music Month. Now is the time to reflect on what that means to you. There’s no substitute.

FEATURE: APRIL SUN IN CUBA STREET

ZOE HANNAY21

Video Hasn't Killed The Student Radio Star WORDS BY NIVA CHITTOCK

Over the summer, the plug was pulled on Salient FM. Ever since, the name has become steeped in controversy; only uttered in the hushed tones of a taboo entity. It’s ridiculous. The FM room was a homely studio, tucked into the corner of the Salient office, which never ceased to provide a bit of fun. It does not deserve this ‘unspoken tragedy’ malarkey. As a former host, it has left me wondering why Salient FM (SFM) was shut down in a secret operation. But more pressing is the hole left behind. Student radio is one of the things Aotearoa’s music industry does best. Incredible really, considering that most who work in the field are volunteers. Student radio is fueled by grassroots music—and lots of it. Whether it be an off-shore goodie, your mate’s band, or someone playing out of their parent’s garage—it has it all. Canterbury’s RDU Station Manager Simon Claridge comments how “student radio makes the invisible, visible… the unseen, SEEN.” This includes all the explicit content your mother wouldn’t approve of and music chosen by your peers, for you. Hallelujah.

notepad, filled with messages, scribbles, and doodles for whoever was next to walk in under the glowering ‘ON AIR’ light. Every so often, we’d meet up to put faces to voices, leading to new ideas being born. Emma sums it up nicely: “it was loved.” So why did it disappear into silent air?

ragtag bunch of talkative students came together to hash out a weekly programme of shows and playlists.

Enter the cyber elephant in the room. When you discuss the demise of radio it emerges: streaming. I surveyed a bunch of mates and every single one said their main sources of music were Spotify and/or YouTube. For many of us now, music = streaming services. While they might have pretty packaging and be more malleable to our listening habits, these sites are exploitive. Soundcharts blog provides a concise explanation of how streaming sites work. They're centred around a global payout system which feeds the majority of profits to labels and executives. The artists themselves make very little—even those with thousands of streams. There is not one streaming site which pays more than a quarter of a cent per stream. Truth be told, most don’t even hit that.

Fellow host Emma fondly reminisces on her time at SFM: “Honestly, having a radio show was a good time. The best part was having intense debates, yarns, and laughs in this dingy little dark room. A two hour slot [meant you could] have quality conversations that couldn't be about university or our personal lives.”

While student radio doesn’t pay artists, they give something more valuable: a channel to actively communicate with listeners. As Simon tells me, RDU alone has 35,000 daily listeners (on average). Promotion of gigs, websites and social media pages all direct audiences towards revenue platforms that remain in the artists’ hands.

The shows ranged a lot, from fresh DMCs to sport news and DnB. But no matter what was broadcast, you were guaranteed a laugh. Inside, you’d find the infamous studio

But hold up a second: just to be clear, student radio is NOT commercial radio, nor is it like commercial radio.

SFM was one of these platforms. It was a place where a

Commercial radio arguably spends more time on the artists’ public image than their sound. Their audience bases are traditionally wider and content is profit-driven. There is no specialised programming or particular care for audiences. They don’t tend to cater to the different musical sects amongst listeners either. Instead, they subscribe to marketable rotations prone to overplaying songs. This is perhaps best seen through their tendency to pin their ‘Kiwi music’ tag to a few already well-known acts. Crucially though, commercial radio has annoying adverts, something student radio does not. Yet streaming and commercial radio cannot be the scapegoats. They are not the only factor that brought Salient FM to its knees. We are. We have become lazy. Our lives are slowly trickling further towards convenience and music discovery is not exempt from this. It’s nice to be able to pay $10 p/month to get no ads and be spoon-fed music. But there’s no one there to give the background behind the tune. No one to spin yarns or smash out a top-notch set. No one to give truly uncensored feedback to (censorship is rife in commercial stations). We are just as much at fault. After all, we are the ones choosing them over student radio. Right now, student radio is more important than ever. May means Aotearoa New Zealand music month. It is well documented that kiwis are proud consumers of music made in NZ. You only have to look at a sold-out Homegrown and my old hall’s ‘anthem’ being “Bliss” to see it. According to The Spinoff in 2018, the highest player of music we affectionately call ‘our own’ is student radio. Normally Kiwi music makes up more than 50% of their quotas.

Simon is well aware of the effect this has. “Student radio is also a filter...a filter for only the best local and national artists... you wouldn’t have the Flying Nun era, Marlon Williams or Aldous Harding without it.” Student radio is the thread which stitches the Kiwi music scene together. In fact, they’re the ones who stitch the gig venues, music releases, and even the global emerging scene together. Despite the widely circulated urban myth amongst my survey participants: you CAN listen to the radio WITHOUT having a radio or being in the car. Funnily enough, that same internet connection used for streaming services can also access student radio. Most now have online website players or apps with the function built-in. Salient FM did. RDU does. RDU even has an app which displays the current song playing, those played in the past few hours and gives you the option to ‘like’ songs which are then saved to your personal list. This is radio freedom like never before. James Meharry, RDU Station Director stated: “Independence requires support,” in his 2018 The Spinoff article. Many of us found this out when leaving home: independence isn’t easy. Student radio is in the same boat. It’s moved on from the parental figures lingering in the commercial station waves and it needs ears to stay afloat. Radio is free to listen to. So make the most of it. Turn to local artists. Turn to those who work the hardest to make alternative music accessible. Above all, PUT AWAY Spotify Premium, YouTube, and The Edge—tune into student radio. You won’t regret it. #bringbackSFM

FEATURE: VIDEO HASN'T KILLED THE STUDENT RADIO STAR

Going Nowhere VIC BELL | KĀI TAHU | SHE/HER

CW: Homophobia I have loved me a man - Allison Durbin Greenwich Village, New York City, 1969 I was suspicious of Jack at first; I thought it odd for a Yank to play rugby. We were lacing up our boots for the match against Marist when he strode in late, tallest on the team with that corn-fed American look, all blonde hair and good teeth. We ignored each other until finals day. He slammed me against the changing shed and I was convinced he was gonna break my nose, so imagine my surprise when he kissed me. It’s hard to keep secrets in Hamilton so when he wanted to move home I was quick to agree. New York was hard to get used to, with the traffic and the rats and the police bothering you. It was dodgy at home hanging around the coffee bars but I felt like I flew under the radar in my checked shirt and jeans. A tourist that had got lost. The city is awful but glamorous. Jack insists we go out every night and we always end up on Christopher Street. Tonight is hotter that usual, sticky. I’m out the front smoking when the feds walk in. After a year in the bars I’m used to the crackdowns but tonight is worse than usual and the air crackles. Kids throw bottles and pennies which the coppers don’t take too well. A van pulls up—reinforcements. Batons and fists start flying and it all kicks off. I’m a sissy but not a coward, so I try to shelter the girls. Jack yanks me out of the brawl with so much force my arm nearly comes out its socket. It’s not worth it man, we’re going home. NOW. Those are our mates. How can you call these people your friends then bugger off and leave them to it?

ISSUE 11: COLUMNS

Fine, do what you want. But this affects me too. They won’t hesitate to deport a faggot. He walks off, leaving me to choose between him and the sound of shattering glass. E hara i te mea - Te Aupōuri (likely iwi of origin) Hamilton, 1975 The sun beats down on the crowd as Whina Cooper climbs the steps to the stage. She looks done in. I spend half of Kuia’s speech staring at her hands and comparing them to the ones resting on my puku. During winter I could wear gloves but now customers take long shrewd looks at my stomach and my bare left hand. Everyone except the ladies at the welfare league seem to think the land march won’t make much difference. The petrol station owner insists on tuning the radio to talkback and the nation’s consensus is that no one cares. Stacking the shelves with aniseed wheels and milky bars is unpleasant enough with swollen ankles, but listening to constant talk of ‘the morioris’ is too much to bear. Not a native speaker, I sway with the crowd but my voice is barely audible under the swell of waiata. Dad wasn’t too keen on me learning Māori so I said it was a pottery class. What? Are you gonna smear some clay on your hands on the way home sis? My brother’s laugh isn’t the same over the phone. Long distance calls to New York are bloody expensive and he cuts them short. He knows I’m too whakahīhī to hang up first. To do so is to admit I’m only ever half listening, keeping an eagle eye on the clock.

"Loneliness is a stomach full of ice cubes that no amount of takoyaki can melt."

Weather with you - Crowded House

Imagining My Man - Aldous Harding

East Berlin, 1992

Ginza/Hibiya Line, Tokyo, 2017

Uncle never came home from the States so Mum was very wary about letting me go on an OE, but of the two of us I’m slightly more stubborn. She’s relieved that I’m staying with friends on the westside. But every night we cross the invisible line at Potsdamer Platz, heading for the east where excitement bubbles like lava.

At breakfast, a German student sits across from me. I pray for no strings of green seaweed between my teeth.

We met Jakob when we were running a coat-check scam. He caught us charging people two marks on the door to stuff their coats in the broom closet. But he admires our ingenuity and shouts us a round. When he palms me a white pressed pill I try to act unfazed. Warm waves wash over me and I can taste the air. We run across the road with arms outstretched.

He admits he came over on the pretext of asking directions to Ueno but would I be interested in spending the day with him. I’ve been at TUFS for a semester but this is the first time a guy has acknowledged that I’m not invisible. The concrete of Ueno Zoo is sticky with cherry blossoms and melted shaved ice. We talk in a mixture of stilted English and stilted German. Dad abandoned his attempt to make us kids bilingual early on, so I’m only confident with swear words. My favourite exhibit is the giant pandas. Apparently they don’t know how to shag properly and are going extinct.

I turn my head in time to see my best friend take a running jump and cannonball into the Spree. Jakob rips off his shirt and dives in after her. They pull themselves out of the water onto the grate, laughing like idiots.

We leave the zoo and wordlessly take the train to Shibuya ward. Two hours paid upfront for a room in the I Love You! Hotel with a mirror on the ceiling isn’t how anyone plans to lose their virginity. When in Rome.

We idle until the bakery opens at 6am. Thick slices of black rye bread slathered with butter slam onto our table. Everyone salts their bread. I follow their lead, a bit too vigorous with the salt shaker as Jakob gently places a hand on my arm to stop.

The metro rocks us gently on the ride home. I look at the German student falling asleep on my shoulder and realise I know nothing about him. He’s scrawled an email address in the back of my notebook. Alone in a ryokan next week, I will know before I hit send that the email will bounce.

We stagger into the street blinking sunlight out of our eyes and Jakob walks us to Rummelsburg station.

Loneliness is a stomach full of ice cubes that no amount of takoyaki can melt.

Goodnight mole people! He grins and disappears from sight as we descend the stairs to the U-bahn, back to the safety of the west.

ISSUE 11: COLUMNS

To Be Frank FRANKIE DALE | SHE/HER

IN TUNE // OUT OF TOUCH I am proud to say I have never dated a DJ. It's not really my thing. I will be honest though—I have never had a boyfriend who hasn’t termed himself a musician. Whatever that means; I have an illness. My brain is chemically inclined to be drawn to the Mac Demarco meets Julian Casablancas and, more often than not, Rod Stewart hybrid of a man. There is no rhyme or reason to this, it happens by accident every. single. time. I had to stop and ask myself: am I a desperate groupie? Or is New Zealand ravaged with sexy, young, aspiring musicians? First up, the indie musician. A couple years back, he could’ve easily been spotted rocking some red Vans and a cap that said “New England Bowling Club 1999” or whatever. Nowadays, my king is harder to spot. Usually though, he’s sneaking up on me in a suede suit on the San Fran balcony telling me his band is “finally going to make it big” due to the generous funding from his parents. There’s no shame in making a start to your new album with the help of your parents, but please stop acting like Randy Jackson just signed you and you're about to make it onto the Grey’s Anatomy soundtrack. I am in no way hating on the indie musician. I love them, the way they glide through the streets so seductively albeit sometimes obnoxiously, fearless and excited to perform. My addiction started when I was about 16. I managed to date three out of four members of a band over the span of my high school career. (Please bear in mind this is when my daddy issues ran rampant).

Here's the thing about dating musicians: it's not a choice. At least, most of the time it’s not. Sometimes, they’re so irresistible, we just can’t help it. And if you hate yourself just enough, they can smell your sweet pheromones a mile away. Like so many other brands of tortured artists, indie musicians may have an agenda to ruin your life to get that sweet content. Like with any prototype, the indie musician comes in many forms, starting with the raging hates-his-mum musician to the disturbed sad boy. Now, I’m unsure if I could call this boyfriend a ‘musician’. He has never actually released any music, but it's a term he identifies with and I’m not here to stop him living his fantasy. Over the months we dated he often hoarded his musician status over me, making it clear that I could never understand his tortured genius. Apparently, I will never be able to come to terms with the ‘rawness’ ~vegan straight edge rock~ has to offer. Fml. This guy is one of the flakiest people I have ever known. Not only in his feelings towards me, but also in his commitment towards his music career. One day he would be furiously jotting down lyrics about his psycho ex-girlfriends (red flag) and the next he had completely forgotten about it and wouldn’t stop talking about his ever growing obsession with Mike Hosking.

Regrettably, I was never able to make it to the lead singer: an extremely gifted singer who’s smile could light up any room. The band eventually broke up.

When his busy practise schedule started taking precedence over us spending time together, I couldn’t stifle my growing suspicion that he wasn’t even in a band at all. I assumed he was wasting these hours away picking up girls at Hotel Bristol (any excuse not to see me). You’ll leave him when his growing want for anal becomes less of a joke and more a problematic obession.

Being compared to Yoko Ono by a member of the band was probably the lowest point of my adolescence.

Although I took much pleasure in being someone's punching bag, it was time to move to a sadder species of musician.

ISSUE 11: COLUMNS

"And if you hate yourself just enough, they can smell your sweet pheromones a mile away."

The sad boy, much like the soft boi except... a lot sadder. I do have an appreciation for the sad boy. What can I say—I love a guy who can talk about his feelings. Although, there inevitably becomes a point when I’m returning home from work to a sobbing adult hunched over a synth. The sad boys I have had the privilege of dating are all well-to-do boys with linen sheets and expensive synths. Their synths are like their hearts, both of which I was not able to touch. The sad boy will keep quiet when you’re clearly flirting with the other band members but will secretly read the messages on your phone whilst you're asleep. He doesn’t trust you and is incredibly clingy but disguises it with his chill skater attire. Shaka, babe. Whilst you’re falling asleep after the most menial sex one could possibly imagine making sure there is strictly no laughing or fun to be had, he will start stroking your back telling you how beautiful you looked at the gig that night. But... could you please stop wearing that low cut top —'it pisses me off’. You’ll get up and attempt to walk out that door—you’ve had enough. But… thats the thing with a sad boy, he has you wrapped around his large hands with his empty promises of mutually pleasuring sex and the possibitlty that maybe one day, he will appreciate that your emotions are equally important. You’ll wake up one day realising you're 21 and you’ve wasted your adolescence on handjobs, emotional turmoil, and dozens of toxic complexes. Not to mention, hundreds of UTIs. I thought maybe it wasn’t fair that the musicians themselves didn’t have a voice. What do I know anyway? So I asked the professionals. What is it really like to date a normie?

Anon - ex fling, techno musician “Sometimes you couldn’t grasp that I literally just wanted to stay home and jam out a song… you took it so personally, like you didn’t understand I had other priorities. Music is ultimately going to be my first priority” Anon - lovely friend, guitarist “Touring kinda ruined my relationships, in multiple ways. After you’ve gotten off stage it’s hard to recognise whos genuine, I struggle with it; makes it hard to recognise who’s legit” Anon - Best friend’s boyfriend, Indie musician “I’ve always dated normal girls. Recently I got bored of that so I turned my current girlfriend into a muso like me. It made our relationship a lot better” Anon - Intelligent friend, SEXY DJ. “ The best thing I ever learned is not to break down your lyrics to your SO. If you want to write with any level of complexity/ freedom, leave your metaphorical/lyrical stones unturned. The breakdown is emotionally exhausting” After taking in the honest words of these musicians, I couldn't help but think maybe musicians are a certain type of breed. Not bad or good, but passionate. Maybe more often than not, this passion did not translate into our relationships together—these relationships, often filled with disdain and resent. But overall we can’t be angry at someone for their passions and that’s exactly what musicians have. NZ music month is a time to celebrate the best of the best, the upcoming and the famous. The talented and the not so talented. The auto-tune and the pedals. Thank you for your good work and keep it up.

ISSUE 11: COLUMNS

Off Record HANNAH POWELL | SHE/HER

SOUNDS OF THE LOCAL Welcome to the end of NZ Music Month! I remember my first taste of the local scene. Having stumbled across a mysterious doorway on Cuba Street, my two mates and I were welcomed to the Pandora’s box of local music. I distinctly remember two flights of stairs and the dregs of a DARTZ gig. It was a Wednesday night—we’d stumbled across San Fran for the first time. But more importantly, we’d found Eyegum Free Wednesdays—a weekly-gig-night-turnedtradition that quickly became a staple in my student diet. Eyegum Music Collective and VMorg are two distinct music collectives in Wellington hosting bangin’ gigs. I had a chat with each of them, to see what they’re about. Whether it’s a new start-up or a beloved band, these music collectives showcase them all. Ben Morgan, who runs VMorg clothing with mate Luke Riley, originally started up as a streetwear brand in 2018 with a piss-take twist. Now, they’re selling their merch at festivals, as well as hosting their own live music events. April was VMorg Music Month, and this year they had one hell of a line-up. Although isolation had to put that one on hold, Ben says the time away has allowed them to debut their new indie zine Inside//Out. A ‘re-skin’ over on the VMorg site didn’t go without its rewards too, he said. Having all of their previous work on one site had them reminiscing on all that they’d held and accomplished with live music. “It was truly rewarding to look back through all of the photoshoots, live events, and everything… truly taking the time to acknowledge how much we’d already done,” he said. “[It’s] like WOW everyone really fucks with what we’re doing”. Some huge highlights of their shows were Same Name Confusion, Ha the Unclear, and Miss Cressida at San Fran last year. Selling their merch at NestFest and 121 was a special moment too. For NZ Music Month, “we do what we do to help NZ musicians,” says Ben. “May is a time

ISSUE 11: COLUMNS

when everyone’s supporting local music, so it’s mean to see that all over social media.” With Eyegum bringing Ben’s “weekly froth forwards”, for most of us, it’s a catch-up and a boogie over a $5 beer. Eyegum Music Collective started back in the day when, as Kenny Charlton describes, the local music scene was “[probably] a lot more Devon ditch itch than Cuba Street beat”. Kenny’s dad Joel was keen to put a name to organizing house parties, and thus Eyegum was born. Since then, it’s evolved with both the Welcome to Nowhere festival and Eyegum Wednesdays at San Fran. Their core Wednesday team involves Mia Bean, Lochie Bobility, Joel Coltrane, Leilani Panda, and Kenny himself. The group manages the social media, discusses and creates lineups, as well as “liaising” with designers, photographers, and performers. Kenny’s highlight of 2020 was when he opened Eyegum’s festival, Welcome to Nowhere. “It was planned but not announced and people were stoked. I was stoked so much that I shredded my hand playing my Scarf song when I jumped off a fence,” he says. For the team, the gratitude that people have shown them has been, as Kenny describes, “bloody humbling”. “Even for a place for people to play or watch a sweet show, it’s also been a place to meet, catch up and connect.” For Kenny, 70% of the people he loves he has met at San Fran. They’ve got some pretty special stuff coming up in the future. So c’mon, get stuck into the local music. With festivals talking about local line-ups this summer, see it as an opportunity for discovery. There’s a lot of music to froth about, it’s more a matter of where to look. To VMorg and Eyegum, thank you. In the words of Mia Bean, “NZ Music Month EVERY MONTH!”

Bachelor of Parenting

VUWSA

ROSIE AND MIIA VAN BEUSEKOM | SHE/HER

RALPH ZAMBRANO | HE/HIM

HOW TO WRITE A BIRTHING PLAYLIST (AND NOT USE IT)

BEYOND THE MUSIC

Step 1: Identify the songs that you may want on your playlist. Dig out the songs that have acted as landmarks in the most transformative parts of your life. Listen to those songs on repeat for five weeks. Let the grief of all those past moments and memories wash over your swollen, sweaty, pregnant body in the wee hours of the morning. Ugly-cry on the floor of your kitchen. Your life will never be the same, never was the same, and has never once remained the same. Realise that you're not static. Step 2: Make a name for your playlist. Try on names like old clothes. Leave a trail of discarded names in your wake, picking them up as you find them and tossing them aside. Stand in the mirror and practise calling yourself ‘mama’. Whisper down at your own body. Find the most comfortable combination of syllables and build a home for your heart in them. Step 3: Put together the songs that you feel would calm and ground you during birth. Soothe yourself with the sound of your grandmother singing hymns while making you your favourite childhood breakfast. Your dad's hearty musical laughter. The melody of doors closing to the place you felt unsafe. Listen to the sound of your own voice as you breathe through your contractions and ask for the support you need. Ha, never mind that last bit. Your body will be screaming much too loud for that. Step 4: Make a throwaway email to get your 30 days of free Spotify Premium and pack a portable speaker in your hospital bag. When you begin to labour, get your birthing partner to chuck your playlist on. Then it stops. The anaesthetist has to concentrate. Your midwife is watching the monitor carefully. You're still only at 3 centimetres dilated. The obstetrician says that the baby's heart rate is dropping. You're rushed off to theatre. Instead of hearing crooning voices and softly strummed guitars, your baby's arrival is heralded by gasps, gurgles, lots of shuffling feet, and then —finally—a cry. And that is the most beautiful song.

Music is a funny thing. What seems to be a bunch of words, chords, and a bit of producer pizazz strewn together has a greater effect than just a simple song. Think back to the last time you went to the gym, on a roadie, had a party or even got your heart broken and you’ll see a common theme. They’re all better with music. Music lets us get in touch with our emotions: happy, sad, and all those in between. Maybe your serotonin is pumping while you film a TikTok to Benee’s “Supalonely”. Maybe your tears are flowing while you belt Lewis Capaldi’s “Someone You Love” off-key (I'm guilty of doing both). Either way, music becomes an outlet to release emotions and escape reality. In a world that never seems to give us a break, music does just that. Music is the great unifier between all of us. During this pandemic, we’ve seen it with the live-at-home concerts, neighbourhood “YMCA” dance parties and the sudden outbursts of the national anthem. In times of divisiveness, when we all seem to be further apart, familiar lyrics bind us together. Music brings out the human in humanity. This NZ Music Month, value and support local artists. They’re facing battles too, with concerts and gigs being canned left, right, and centre. Purchase some tunes, choreograph some moves, learn new lyrics, and have a jam. Our artists need us as much as we need them. And let’s face it, without Six60, Mako Road, Teeks, etc., NZ just wouldn’t be the same. Alternatively, spend this month creating music of your own. Turn your thoughts into lyrics, your hums into chords, and make a masterpiece. You never know, you may have untapped talent and could very well impact someone’s life or the world.

ISSUE 11: COLUMNS

UniQ KATERINA SANDOVAL | SHE/HER

KATE BUSH’S RUNNING UP THAT HILL AND TRANSFORMATIVE QUEERNESS "If only I could, I'd make a deal with god, and get him to swap our places."

voice start each line with the exhortation to “come on angel, come on darling / Let’s exchange the experience”.

One thing draws all LGBTQIA+ people together. At least once in our lives, we’ve looked hard enough at ourselves to take a stand on who we are. Even those of us from the most accepting backgrounds have had to actively reject heteronormativity.

Alongside a sexual consummation, the lyrics make real transformation possible, switching by the end from “if only” to simply “let's exchange”. Let’s do it.

I have queer friends who are straight-passing in their dress, their interactions with the world, and in one painful case, their shockingly toxic masculinity. Their queerness, by their own admission, is just a detail. It’s not something they claim, not something they believe shapes them, not a transformation. But for lots of us, queerness transforms us, because confronting ourselves lets us better understand selfconfrontation. This transformation, when it results in empathy, is a foundation of queerness as something beyond simply identifying as LGBTQIA+. “Running Up That Hill” is a song grounded in queer empathy, in a desire to understand the hurt of another in a way that draws on your own experiences of transformation. Kate Bush is neither known, nor rumoured, to identify as LGBTQIA+. And yet, this is a song based specifically on a willingness to disrupt gender just so she can “feel how it feels”. She offers empathy, in this case, through the lens of sex: “Do you want to know that it doesn’t hurt me?”. But this line is also about the painful work towards empathy, with Bush almost there, trying so hard to understand. And it is fundamentally queer, because a transformation of gender is all she sees standing in her way. But this isn’t real life—this is music. The lyrics start in reality, as a wish—“if only I could”. But from the chorus onwards, sudden spurts of white noise from that most phallic of instruments, the electric guitar, make explicit the musical and sexual climax of the song. The rising gasps of Kate’s

ISSUE 11: COLUMNS

So music can reflect us, even when it’s not by LGBTQIA+ artists, by simply opening itself up to queerness. In Bush’s case, it’s a willingness to search beyond gender for empathy. But music can also manifest that transformation in ways that we can’t physically. Reality doesn’t hold it back. Music, as a wash of sound and emotions, can function for a few minutes the same way a real transformation could. And this is the transformative queerness of “Running Up That Hill”. I think I barely speak for myself, let alone anyone else. My queerness is sometimes searingly, painfully different, to even the people closest to me. But at other times, it's shockingly similar. What I’ve written is my impression of queerness—people I knew and know—and how it transforms. I hope you recognise it. That said, you might not, you might disagree. The shifting substances of our queernesses transform us in far too many ways to touch on in one column. But I only have ~550 words, so this is my take on one transformative aspect of queerness—empathy— as manifested in music. That said, here is a list of Kate Bush songs and some aspects of queer transformation that I think represent them. Choice - "Under The Ivy" Desire - "The Sensual World" Experience - "All The Love" Glamour - "Rocket’s Tail" Independence - "Joanni" Liberation - "Wuthering Heights" Performance - "Babooshka" Self-Erasure - "Houdini" Transition - "Among Angels"

PSC: One Ocean LOFA TOTUA | SHE/HER

JAMS Being in lockdown with my family meant jamming tunes that everyone knew and enjoyed. Like most, we often fight over who’s on the aux. Mum emphasises the need to keep it appropriate, Ele hates when I play my ‘weird’ genres, and I insist on having everything on BLAST.

NZ music is our common ground, a place where we are even and, yup—united. Compiled during lockdown, these albums are some of our favourites that have kept us sane. We’ve also hand picked our favourite songs that have left us nostalgic for times past.

Sione’s Wedding— Multiple Artists (2006) 5/5 Top song: “Forever” by Aaradhna feat Kevin Soul. Before “Forever Love”, there was “Forever” from the classic movie Sione’s Wedding. It’s one of our favourite RnB love songs, classic and specific to the upbringing of Polynesians in the diaspora. Produced by Dawn Raid Entertainment, the iconic soundtrack to this film includes many Pacific Kiwi artists. Polysaturated—Nesian Mystik (2002) 4/5 Top song: Nesian Style is our favourite, it’s got Pacific Flavour through the island drums in the beat (the pate). This song reminds us of the early 2000’s when we were still babies, summer was the best and when all our family lived in Auckland. These boys and their music were among the first artists to mix Pasifika with Hip Hop and RnB. Always & for Real— Adeaze (2004) 5/5 Top song: It was really tough for us to choose just ONE song but it’s got to be “A Life with You”. One of the duo’s first, this jam was like nothing anyone had heard of before that was homegrown, especially for Mum. Back then, the role of music videos were more influential. They had to tell the story of songs and work hand in hand with artists to create the same attention now garnered through social media. The NZ music scene has yet to hear a greater love song than this and probably won’t for a long time. What To Do With Daylight— Brooke Fraser (2003) 5/5 Top song: “Arithmetic” NO CAP. The lyrics have always had a special meaning for us at Christians. The album as a whole still bangs and manages to calm, every time we come back to it. With some music, you return to it after years and the meaning changes. The lyrics take on different shapes in your life. Some parts you used to obsess over don’t stick out as much and others you realise you missed completely. With this album, for us it’s significance only becomes more important as we have grown up.

ISSUE 11: COLUMNS

Story of my life

It’s Christmas 2005 Santa has gifted me NOW 19 Driving to Grandma's blaring 11:57 We finally arrive Grandma gifts me my new WWE figurine Oath, great day, I’m in heaven Fast forward, I’m 12 In the back of the social, dizzy off the fizzy Avalanche City is playing, obviously for the slow jam I see a girl, I back myself I ask her name, “Hi I’m Lizzy” She compliments my Hallenstiens shirt, I feel like the man Now the clock’s moved on, its first year O-Week Horsed as, dancing along to Benee Hunter Lounge is going off Go to town, trying not to tweak My older brother’s ID says I’m 20 Get into Estab, “Could I please get a V and Smirnoff?”

– Matthew Casey

Send your poems to poetry@salient.org.nz

POETRY

The Bollands—"Lose You" Memories and Fireworks

WILL ELAND | THEY/THEM

We open on our protagonist duct-taping pieces of cardboard to her legs, a towel to a helmet, and putting on an oversized coat. The song opens to a short, sweet, slightly hopeful piano riff that repeats for the entirety of the song. A man sings, melancholic, about dying, fading as he waits for someone he doesn’t believe is real.

Cholera broke out in Taiwan in 1875, and the plague lasted for over twenty years. Survivors in Yanshuei attempted to drive off evil spirits with fireworks, and soon after the plague ended. The festival commemorates this, taking place on the 15th day of the Lunar New Year. The music video was shot this year, February 8th, as our current pandemic rose.

The Bollands are a New Zealand indie-folk band who I had never heard of before I went onto the NZ Music Month website last week. They are a husband and wife duo who started out in Hong Kong and now tour all over Asia, the US, and NZ. They are also exactly the type of music I listen to, so I’m a little disappointed they hadn’t popped up in my recommendations.

The visuals are, of course, stunning. And set to the mournful vocals of a man lamenting loss, they are humbling. We watch our protagonist leaving the festival, helmet under arm and tired determination on her face, a mirror to how many feel attempting to survive and work and plan a way out of our current world.

“Lose You” is their most recent single, dropped on the 6th of May in the midst of a pandemic. The video is, currently, unlisted. As far as I can tell, you can only access it through the news piece about it on the NZ Music Month website, which might explain why so few have seen it. I would highly recommend you go through the effort to find it though. It’s a hidden gem. Probably because of the timing, the lyrics—originally about struggling in a deep pit of depression—have taken on a different meaning for me. They feel at home in the uncertainty and fear of life right now, sitting at home, safe, knowing that people I love across the world are in much more dangerous times.

I thought I was gonna lose you The song itself, its instrumentals and vocals and the harmonies between those, is quietly beautiful. Haunting. The piano carries the melody, repeating its almost optimistic riff throughout. Guitars and drums come in to bolster it as fireworks are set off, but once everything fades and we are left with the aftermath, the memories, the piano can barely be heard in the background. The vocals sing of fear, loss, of something being wrong but being unable to find the cause. They meld with synth as these feelings increase and fade back to pure, human voice as a second voice joins and mixes for the chorus. It is bittersweet, scared of what has been missed, what realities they nearly had to face. I thought I was gonna lose you

I thought I was gonna lose you The music video, dropped at the same time, follows our protagonist preparing for the Yanshuei Fireworks Festival in Taiwan. She will, after donning her homemade protective gear, run amongst a crowd into the path of fireworks. The spectacle is beautiful, awe-inspiring as the fireworks dance across the mass of people. It is even more poignant considering what the festival is remembering.

Hold on I thought I was gonna lose you.

REVIEWS: SINGLE

Reijie Snow—Dear Annie Album Review

CAILTIN HICKS | NGĀTI RANGINUI | SHE/HER

I was first introduced to Rejjie Snow through someone who, like Snow, hails from the northside of Dublin. In early 2018 when Snow’s debut album Dear Annie was released, we’d spend our Monday evenings drinking Fitou and grooving to “Charlie Brown” in our socks on the crumb-y wooden floor of his Lyon apartment. The dulcet tones of Mr Snow, born Alex Anyaegbunam, soundtracked some of my most precious memories. This is an album very close to my heart.* Dear Annie is a tantalising introduction to the mysterious Rejjie Snow. In his deeply personal debut, he obsesses over a lover he allegedly abandoned to live in Paris. The tracklist narrates a love that’s messy, confusing, angsty, and utterly devastating. Snow’s vulnerability is painfully human and charming. Interludes weaved throughout inject an informal late-night-radio-all-access vibe offering insight into the man himself–context that enriches the surrounding tunes. Countless albums expound the folly of love, but none do it with as much nuance, humanity, and personality as this. The monstrous 20-track record is a genre-bending masterpiece. Combining elements of rap, funk, jazz, soul, electronic, and pop, efforts are wasted attempting to confine this to a single musical category. It’s contemporary R&B at its finest: a bedrock of hip hop overlaid with woozy synth bass, rainbow pop melodies, melancholy instrumentals, and lucid vocals. Snow’s music shares qualities of the pop-py lullabies of Chance the Rapper and ad-libs that rival Tyler the Creator’s. It reflects vibey instrumentals à la Kaytranada, Sampha’s soul, and the inimitable musical flexibility of BROCKHAMPTON. While he joins a growing pack of genrediverse artists, Snow is truly one of a kind. “Hello” leads you into the album, an upbeat-come-moody instrumental overlaid with cheerful voices juxtaposed against Snow’s laidback Dub drawl. It’s a multitrack masterpiece that blurs the line between speech and lyric. Next up is “Rainbows”, a foot-tapper with an infectious melody and simple chorus—a capital-B Bop. “Rainbows” sounds like the butterflies-in-stomach nervous excitement

REVIEWS: ALBUM

of a first date, skipping down cobbled streets of your new city to Metro line D; afternoons spent holding hands on the Band Rotunda at Oriental Bay. Pairs well with pancakes. “23” is an indictment of the messiness of love. In “The Rain”, Snow raps sweet nothings: pillow talk on a bed of bass. “Mon Amour”s buoyant instrumental teases you into a painfully articulate rap, topped with a sprinkling of french for good measure, and sex appeal. “Désolé” is mellow, moody and melancholy, without being depressing. “Egyptian Luvr”, featuring Aminé, has had the most mainstream success with over 36 million Spotify streams. This might be the closest to an ‘ordinary’ R&B tune that Rejjie gets. “Bye Polar” merges rap and what one critic described as ‘strip club bounce’. The tail end of the song is a celestial, SBTRKT-style bassy instrumental. “Charlie Brown”, my most played song of 2018, is a modern take on Republic of Loose’s “The Steady Song”. The product? A veritable contemporary Irish jig with nonsensical lyrics that you’ll be humming for days, on a poppy foundation rivalling the foot-tappability of Italo Disco. Maybe I am a bit biased. Snow’s tranquil synth riffs and sickly-sweet melodies soundtracked my 2018* (and 2019, and 2020). I listened to Dear Annie as I tentatively approached love, as I wallowed in the incomprehensible joy of it, and when reality intervened to break my heart. From what I can ascertain, the highest praise available on the island of Ireland is a nonchalant ‘grand’. Rejjie Snow: he’s bloody grand. *I actually wrote this review in early 2019 after this album saw me through a pretty devastating heartbreak. It wasn’t smooth sailing in that department for a while, and Rejjie helped me pick up the pieces every time. Class guy.

Ariana Grande—"Into You" A Song That Deserved Better

STEPHEN JINKU HUGHES | HE/HIM

Simply put, “Into You” by Ariana Grande is the perfect pop spectacle. Despite Ari’s questionable choices (see: blackfishing, appropriation of Black and Asian cultures, and the spattering of other problematic behaviour), this song bops. It has everything. And I mean EVERYTHING, that was needed for a long-lasting #1 song. Beginning with a whispery vocal syncopating to a pumping synth, she “can barely breathe”. She builds up with slow snaps that seemingly congratulate the impending masterpiece of a song. She taunts us with what is yet to come as “close ain’t close enough as we cross the line” as she prepares us for THAT pre-chorus. It hooks us in, giving us drama, sin, and enigmatic escapade, as the temperature rises. Ariana is creeping up on our throats, bracing us for an even grander spectacle. She’s warning us–she’s waiting for us to make a move and then DAMN, SHE MAKES A FUCKING MOVE ALRIGHT.

As she calls for her baby to “light her up” the club thumps drop harder, the lurking synths pulse UP, the playful scandalous feeling rises as the production adds. And then, then, the levels of vocals RAMP UP. The booties shake. Ariana adds domineering finesse as she sings “I’m so into you, into you, INTO YOU.” She plays up the mischievous and thrilling nature of pop music that we have loved since 2003’s “Toxic” Britney Spears. Ariana delves into another slinky verse, seducing us with relatable quips about making “too many mistakes” and how she “better get this right” (is she alluding to her #DonutGate here? If so, we love a foreshadowing queen). But this verse is just a short slide into another fantastic pre-chorus that builds into an ecstatic crescendo of the chorus that we love. This time as Ariana delivers the chorus and THAT HOOK again, you end up enamoured with further disco-fever excitement that teases us about what’s coming up in the bridge.

lyrics accompanied by the thumps of the song’s signature bassy beat build the FEVER RISING expectations, notes and temperature of the final chorus perfectly. THIS. This is where the ultimate slaps of slaps hit. The final pre-chorus continues to astound and it goes beyond pop perfection. The flourishes of powerful adlibs side by side (hah) those angelic high notes bring a new dimension of heaven to the chorus. On top of that the new soaring–verging whisper tone–belts guide us to one final repetition that ends with a pleading confessional belt to serve a new forefront of sonic pleasure to your ears. Sin, excitement, slinkiness, and covert ops. The song feels and sounds like a romantic getaway piece of epic proportions laced with high stakes consequences. Ariana’s range of power, subtlety, control, and honeypot voice is perfect for the arrangement of this musical story. The dips and peaks of the journey steered by the smoothest of build-ups have us baited, seduced, and toyed with at every turn. Falling victim to this song is almost inevitable. The ultimate dance track that didn’t thrive as much as it deserved: Ariana’s best bop, has been cruelly and woefully undervalued. Now, I could blame the public with its general poor judgement (I’ll never forgive the gloss over Katy Perry’s "Never Really Over"), but with some research and disdain for male musical management, I blame the likely backhanded sabotage from Scooby Basketball (occasionally known as Scooter Braun), who at the time had some management beef with her. So as per most things in life, this is the fault of men.

And as we cross into said bridge, we have a minimisation of the beat which only adds to the thrill and drama. The pleading

REVIEWS: SINGLE

Occupation Station WHICH KIWI ANTHEM ARE YOU?

You wake up on a deserted country road, barbecue sauce on your tiddies. Next to you is a battered old guitar with most of the strings gone. What do you play?

You begin walking. Suddenly a demon appears in the middle of the road. He says: “play the best song in the world or I’ll eat your soul.” What do you play?

A. A classic rock ballad about doin’ blow and bein’ rad

A. The same song as before B. "Tribute" by Tenacious D

B. A gritty blues wailer about your lover that cheated on you with the owner of a mattress store

The demon has no concept of what songs are good or bad, he just told you to play for a laff. To avoid demons in the middle of the road again, you decide to head West instead.

A. North

After hours of traipsing West you come across a diner, with approximately 30-50 steel hogs parked outside. You walk in, expecting hardcore music and instead are greeted with the Auckland Philharmonic Orchestra, leather-clad and eating piping hot waffles. The composer gently caresses your arm and asks you if you have any song requests. You request:

B. West A. “Home Again” by Shihad B. "Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve

The orchestra is delighted at your choice. They play a full rendition, complete with the black horse galloping from that bank ad, and you are lauded as High Commander of Music. You are served an endless supply of the finest bean juice this two-bit town can offer, and full control over the jukebox. What genre do you decide to shuffle-play? (I don’t know how jukeboxes work shut up it’s a quiz in a student magazine)

The orchestra has no idea who the fuck you’re talking about and orders you to leave the diner. You leave, disheartened. In your peripheral vision you spot an old iPod Nano on the concrete in the dying sun. A single song can be played out of it: Evacuate the Dancefloor by Cascada. Do you recognise it?

A. Rock

A. No

B. Pop

B. Yes

OCCUPATION STATION

MOSTLY AS

MOSTLY Bs

EQUALLY As AND Bs

Your anthem: "Little Pills" by Devilskin

Your anthem: "Royals" by Lorde

Your anthem: "Wandering Eye" by Fat Freddy’s Drop

Sweep aside your mullet bangs and have a geez at Devilskin. Out of VBs? Missus got you down coz she didn’t get you durries at the store like you asked? Just fucken raging at how farked the government is? Devilskin’s surely got you sussed g.

You’re most definitely someone who cuffs their jeans and wears beanies thirteen head sizes too big. BA student? Check. Triangle tattoo? Check. Obscure band shirt? Check, check, triple check. Lorde? Emo softboi bops, guaranteed.

No matter what side of the fence you find yourself on, Fat Freddy’s is sure to get you dancing. If they don’t, then you’re devoid of a soul. What better way to not get involved in NZ music discourse than literally just minding ur own and chucking a couple in the esky for a roadie.

Word of the Week: ‘music’

Te Reo Māori:

New Zealand Sign Language:

pūoro

NZSL: https://www.nzsl.nz/signs/2516

Sudoku

Easy

Not So Easy

OCCUPATION STATION

Horoscopes MADDI ROWE | SHE/HER

I painstakingly deep-dove into some fucked up Subreddits for this week. If you contest these horoscopes we will have to key-tar duel to the death.

ARIES Garage rock: When you’re putting a dead rat in someone’s glove box for crossing you, you need music that’s good for running from the police. Garage rock encapsulates that fuckery perfectly. Album rec: People in the Sky by the Schizophonics

GEMINI

Kawaii metal: Mixing Japanese aestheticism with manga/anime tropes to form a very fucking cool music genre. And women are at the forefront of it. So. Are you a feminist or not, lol? Album rec: BABYMETAL by BABYMETAL

Witch house: Satiate your craving to delve into Sh*ne D*wson Illuminati vids. Listen to witch house instead. It’s ooky spooky sampled synth will scare a Gemini speechless. We need you to just. Shhhh. Dad’s got a headache. Album rec: Held by Holy Other

CANCER

LEO

Experimental: Experimental music is this fucking wacko music genre that’s based on creating patterns with MIDI files instead of actual chord progressions. It’s almost as chaotic as me. Youtube rec (you’re special): Synthesia by Rainbow Tylenol

Hypnagogic pop: A soundtrack for your obsession with rehashing your past—hypnagogic pop compounds 20th-century sounds with 21st-century concepts. It’s fucking bizarre and delicious, just like you xx. Album rec: Dedicated to Bobby Jameson by Ariel Pink

LIBRA

S I M P S O N S W A V E: Yes, this is a thing. It’s vaporwave/ chillpop music with lo fi electronic elements, accompanied by clips of The Simpsons. The aesthetic pairing is very carefully thought out: a Libra’s wet dream. Album rec: Fujita Scale by NxxxxxS

TAURUS

Lowercase: Lowercase is categorised as long stretches of silence dog-eared by incredibly quiet sounds, for like 10 minutes. Try not to salivate. There is nothing that gets a Virgo hornier than everyone shutting the fuck up. Album rec: Forms of Paper by Steve Roden

SCORPIO Shoegaze: What better way to scheme on the bus than with listening to shoegaze. Here’s a gateway for you to be one with Patron Saint Avril Lavigne. Album rec: Deathconsciousness by Have A Nice Life

CAPRICORN

AQUARIUS

Intelligent dance music (IDM): Capricorns are secret sluts for clubbing. Since you can’t do that right now, IDM is a more introspective genre of dance music where you can throw that shit back while you work. Album rec: ZOOSPA by J-E-T-S, Machinedrum and Jimmy Edgar

Neo-psychedelia (acid punk): Aquarians are known to take a conventional thing and shove it up its own ass. I present to you: the British post-punk wave, but 100% what’d make or break your acid trip. Album rec: The Bedlam in Goliath by The Mars Volta

HOROSCOPES

VIRGO

SAGITTARIUS Freak folk: Burn an effigy for your childhood crush. Make sweet love in a misty meadow. Sing to a horse. This is all shit you’re gonna do once you listen to freak folk. Album rec: Stay Gold by First Aid Kit

PISCES

Spacesynth: This genre is like. A disco. But in space. And everyone is fucked in some sort of illegal way. It’s fucking awesome. Roll up n enjoy, baby! Album rec: Flight to Planet 5 by Anosphere

The Team EDITORS Rachel Trow & Kirsty Frame DESIGN & ILLUSTRATION Rowena Chow NEWS EDITORS Te Aorewa Rolleston & Finn Blackwell

CHIEF REPORTER Annabel McCarthy

SUB EDITOR Alfred Dennis SOCIAL MEDIA & WEB MANAGER Kane Bassett PODCAST MANAGER Matthew Casey

FEATURE EDITOR Shanti Mathias

STAFF WRITERS Lofa Totua Sally Ward Shanti Mathias

FEATURE WRITERS Janhavi Gosavi Sally Ward Matthew Casey Niva Chittock

TV TEAM Charlie Myer & Julia Mattocks COLUMNISTS Vic Bell Frankie Dale Rosie van Beusekom & Miia van Beusekom Lofa Totua Ralph Zambrano Katerina Sandoval POETRY EDITOR Janhavi Gosavi

CONTRIBUTORS Maddi Rowe Stephen Jinku Hughes Will Eland Caitlin Hicks Taylah Shuker Nina Weir POETRY Matthew Casey

REVIEWS EDITOR Brock Stobbs CENTREFOLD Zoe Hannay @zoehannay DISTRIBUTOR Rebecca Trow ADVERTISING MANAGER advertising@vuwsa.org.nz

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