It took me a long time to get to New Zealand. Not in terms of actual travel, but musically. In terms of the pop music that existed there practically unknown to the rest of the world. Sure, we all knew the music of its neighbor to the west: AC/DC, INXS, Nick Cave, Tame Impala, the Divinyls, Powderfinger, Midnight Oil and the Church.
But New Zealand? Not so much.
I'd like to claim that through my forays into every used record store in Chicago I'd single-handedly unearthed the glories of Straitjacket Fits and the 3Ds and the Tall Dwarfs, but that would be a lie.
Closer to the truth were the multiple volumes of The Trouser Press Record Guide I owned, exhaustively compiled by Ira Robbins. The entry that captivated me most was for a band called the Clean. I immediately set-out to find their two 1982 EPs—unsuccessfully.
Fortunately, a compilation was released about that time, sparing me the anxiety that had accompanied my pursuit of Big Joe Turner and LaVern Baker LPs. I was enchanted, and eventually found their EPs as well as two terrifically rare live albums.
I didn't hear the news of Hamish Kilgour's death until a week after it happened. Granted, we're not talking about an A-list celebrity, but given my long-delayed introduction to the music he made with the Clean, it somehow seemed appropriate.
The drummer was reported missing November 27th and discovered in Christchurch the 29th. He was 65. No cause of death was given.
He learned the drums by playing along with Velvet Underground records, indicating a desire for something fresh and different. His playing was a big part of the trio's sound, appropriately described as “pulsing, dirty, metallic pop.”
Joined on guitar by his brother David and future Bat Robert Scott, the band clicked big in New Zealand. They toured and played sold-out dates throughout the country.
Then they broke up.
Like so many bands, their influence was larger than their catalogue. In addition to providing the first single for Roger Shepherd and his fledgling record label Flying Nun, the band's inventive, lo-fi sound eventually found its way to fans all over the world.
Contemporary critics credit the Clean with influencing bands like Yo La Tengo, Pavement and Superchunk.
Following the end of the Clean, Kilgour founded the Great Unwashed and later, Bailter Space. By 1988 interest in the Clean had grown to the point where a reunion was arranged. A powerful collection (Compilation) was released which included new songs.
In 1990 Vehicle was released.
Eight years after their two EPs turned New Zealand on its head, the Clean at last had a profile equal to their influence.
But with Hamish now residing in New York City and brother David remaining in New Zealand, new Clean releases were sporadic. In the meantime, Hamish kept busy with a multitude of bands and solo releases.
Kilgour once said, “There's no point worrying too much about the commercial viability of your music. Fads and fashion come and go.” They were words only a non-conformist like Hamish Kilgour could speak.
The best description of the artistry that wound its way through his records was captured in a 2012 interview. “Often in simplicity, you find magic things. You're looking for this magic spot where beats sit.”
In a time marked by the losses of Christine McVie, Loretta Lynn and Mimi Parker, this might be the most regrettable.
Rest in peace, my friend.
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