An Ode to The Veils, the Powerstation and the Transcendence of Live Music

MusicCultureLifestyleReviews

9 May

Written By Katie Brown

KATIE BROWN - 9 MAY 2021

Part One: the Powerstation and the Transcendence of Live Music

“I'll see you all and I'll raise you!” – The Veils, “Nux Vomica”

There is nothing quite like seeing a favourite act live, and some of my best live experiences have been at Auckland’s Powerstation venue. Last Sunday night’s show by Finn Andrews’ alt-indie act The Veils as the final stop on their ‘Nux Vomica’ tour was no exception: it proved that matching the right venue with the right artist at the right time creates an unforgettable experience.

To me, the Powerstation occupies the sweet spot of venue size and capacity: it’s not too small to host bigger international acts, but not so large that its particular sense of intimacy gets lost. Whether via Aldous Harding’s uncanny capacity for unnerving eye contact, the swagger of The Kills’ Alison Mosshart and Jamie Hince, or the thundering guitars of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, it provides a setting for musical immersion in a uniquely up-close-and-personal way.

Part of this is its layout and fit-out: essentially a two-tiered black box with very little decoration to distract (or detract) from the artists themselves (bar some unobtrusive portraits of music’s greats), the Powerstation is the ideal ‘tabula rasa’ for different acts to shape and mold with the greatest tool at their disposal: their music. And the best shows I’ve seen there have done exactly that – they fill and sonically transform it, and it becomes a place of transcendence. Clever lighting, exemplary sound and appreciative audiences are the final ingredients to the mix: it takes on a life of its own with every act it hosts precisely because it provides a space they can come into and make their own.

It’s this particular shaping, and within such a minimal space as the Powerstation, that really demonstrates the power of live music. It is one thing when experiencing music as sound only: it transports, and the listener can create their own visual worlds, thoughts and interpretations through this – without necessarily knowing much about the act or artist they’re listening to at all. But when this is translated across to a live experience, the music is brought into being in a completely different way: it’s the breath of life, the body in the clothing, the involvement of all of the senses, the connection of the artist with the essence of their music.

We don’t take lightly how incredibly lucky we are to be getting out to live shows in New Zealand in the current climate, so it was a complete treat to experience a high calibre act like The Veils in such a way and at such a venue at this point in time.

Review below.

Part Two: Concert Review - The Veils Play ‘Nux Vomica’ at Auckland’s Powerstation

Nux Vomica: the strychnine tree.

Throughout the ages the poisonous seed of the tree has been used to make a medicinal natural remedy for many symptoms and disorders - in the right amounts. Too much and it can be fatal, or at the least, have serious side effects: it’s also an effective rat poison. One coin, two sides.

The vital necessity of ensuring the correct dosage of something dangerous is an apt way of considering the music of The Veils, an act with a flair for the darkly dramatic held in just the right weighting. Playing Auckland’s Powerstation last Sunday night as the last stop on their ‘Nux Vomica’ tour, they treated Auckland to a healthy dose of it as they played through their 2006-released Nux Vomica album, demonstrating at the same time that it is just as captivating now as it was back then.

Discussing the performance on the way home, we marvelled at how the songs, mostly written in minor keys and with melancholic undertones, are still surprisingly uplifting. It’s a clever balance. Like the gothic fiction of the 1800s, popular because of its sensationalism juxtaposed with depictions of vulnerability and conflict, the pop-noir take of The Veils is deliciously enthralling: their music is often mournful with heavy and relevant underlying motifs, but the darkness is never too much to ‘capsize the boat’. They create a place to enter into an intense whirl of emotion, surrounded by catchy, driving rhythms and the onward-carrying tides of jangly and gritty guitars and rattling keys. This can lend it to becoming a space for reassurance and healing – but one which also contains the death stare of the cobra. One coin, two sides.

Almost preternaturally, all of these elements came out to play in full force last Sunday night: the Powerstation was transformed by the magnetic power of both the music and musicians into a scene you could almost see Edgar Allan Poe stepping into, curling his lips into an understated, wry and appreciative smile of the dramatic fire-and-brimstone atmosphere brushing against the macabre.

Alongside frontman Finn Andrews, we were treated to a crème-de-la-crème band of Veils old and new, consisting of the inimitable Dave Khan (who adds a joyful and fiery energy to every show I’ve ever seen him perform as part of) on violin, Dan Raishbrook on guitar, Cass Basil on bass, Joe McCallum on drums and Liam Gerrard on keys (who was fittingly proffered a cake and a rendition of “Happy Birthday” during the show). The set was impeccably tight and rife with vigour.

Setting the stage for the concert was Kody Nielson’s futuristic cyber-funk project Silicon. Occupying a completely different sonic sphere to The Veils, Silicon acted as a sort of digital palate cleanser for what was to follow: twisting and manipulating samples and synthetic sounds and topping them with robotic vocoder vocals, the act’s setup, sound and visual identity were reminiscent of the likes of Daft Punk and Air. Achingly cool, they were detached and robotic themselves (which had the unfortunate side effect of a somewhat less engaged audience), demonstrating the cyber-future of their imagining: a mind-altering space of insomnia colliding with an electronic dance party - one part get-up-and-dance, one part fall-down-and-sleep (as demonstrated by Kody, who with beautiful nonchalance lay down onstage midway through the set). With their continuous flow of cleverly manipulated ‘cyber’ sound, Silicon’s minimal visual aesthetic was complemented by the dark sparseness of the Powerstation and they filled the void well and truly, leaving the audience suspended in a kind of soporific trance until The Veils began to play.

The moment The Veils arrived on stage, ushered in on the coattails of a slow and simmering version of “Sinnerman” by Nina Simone, the energy of the venue changed completely, becoming electric and charged with the intensity of both the songs and Finn’s charisma. A swelling “Not Yet”, the first track from the Nux Vomica album, set the scene for the entrancing night that was to follow.

Traversing the Nux Vomica album in a slightly shuffled order, it was immediately clear from the delighted and spellbound audience that the material has withstood the test of time. “Calliope!” with its closing line “What’s there left to believe in?” was an emphatic statement. The ominous “Pan”, bound in religious undertones, was stunning and hypnotic, Finn’s crooning voice wrapping his lyrics in additional layers and extra bite as the song progressed through its angel-versus-demon battle of softer reflection and hell-raising fury. Unsurprisingly, “Jesus for the Jugular” was intense and mesmerising, Finn’s voice bleeding into it with woeful intensity as he howled “Ain’t nobody ever gonna ever have to die”.

Following on from the Nux Vomica offerings were a handful of other releases, including “Axolotl”, “Birds” and “Swimming With the Crocodiles”, along with two new songs we’ll hopefully see released in the not-too-distant future. “Sun Gangs” and the doom-laced “One By The Venom” from Finn’s 2019 solo album One Piece at a Time closed out the night as a glorious encore.

As centrepiece to the ebb and flow of the music’s angry tidal waves contrasting with quieter, melancholic undertones, Finn held the audience captive. It wasn’t through his gentle, softly-spoken stage banter, although this held its own charm, but through the way he was able to embody the songs, using his guitar almost as an extension of himself to morph into them. In doing so, he filled the space with their essence rather than with a dutiful, emotionless replication of them - an easy trap for a less experienced artist to fall into, especially when playing the same material for the umpteenth time.

The effect was transporting: it was honest, refreshing and entirely compelling. The commanding presence of a stage predominantly lit in red, a Dante-esque Finn gave everything he had to the music, and the music was what it needed to be: an inferno, purgatory and paradise all at the same time. He saw us, and he raised us.

Nux Vomica: to be taken with caution. Negative side effects from Sunday night’s dosage? None whatsoever - apart from a thirst for more of The Veils’ knack for the transcendent.