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.