Great North - The Whole of Love
19 June 2012
Author: Adam Burns
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Planning a wedding isn’t easy at the best of times. Certainly it makes things a bit complicated when you’re trying to record your band’s second album simultaneously. Even more so when the contingent’s solidity keeps seesawing back and forth, though that was possibly the least of the major issues. As Adam Burns discovers, it seemed the biggest challenge for Great North’s Hayden Donnell, and his now wife Rachel, when it came to new album ‘Halves’ was finding the time to get to the studio and record the thing.
Noted as local alt. country/Americana/indie folk custodians, in the vein of Okkervill River or Bitzen Trapper, the Auckland band Great North sprung their first EP in 2009, with their debut album emerging at the tail end of 2010. Recorded as a five-piece at Dave Parker’s Oratia studio, ‘Newfoundland’ painted a dense, abstract portrait of far-flung musical heartland.
Circumstances following the delivery of ‘Newfoundland’ however indicated that Great North wasn’t the steadiest carriage in town. Drummer and conveyor belt extraordinaire Olly Scott-Dye cut his head open on a piece of coral in Hawaii during one business trip there in 2011. Having completed his drum parts for the follow up album, Scott-Dye ultimately moved to Hawaii permanently, for work and love. Ryan Atwood replaced him behind the kit. Meanwhile, guitarist Strahan Cole had to split his time between Great North and full-time duties with Avalanche City, who also cut up big in 2011. And there was the small matter of a wedding to sort out for the front man and his bass playing fiancé Rachel Harrison.
“It made us not really a band for a while. I guess we could have easily petered out then,” admits Donnell.
“It made us not really a band for a while. I guess we could have easily petered out then,” admits Donnell.
Thankfully they didn’t. Finding enough days and weekends to knock off the necessary studio time with producer Dave Parker, and despite a few occupational hazards, Great North have come out the other end with ‘Halves’, a poetic and beautifully crafted set of songs, rooted in the more angelic affections of folk and country.
“As a recording process, it was pretty fraught with obstacles,” Donnell remembers. Although the factors mentioned threatened to slow proceedings down, Donnell described the ‘Halves’ experience as much more pleasant than its predecessor.
“I used to be a ball of self-destructive stress,” he laughs. “I didn’t really know how to do it. I remember turning up to the studio and I was a bit hung over one day and I wanted to record the song All Eyes live and I just couldn’t do it. It was just miserable, a real miserable day. This album was a breeze by comparison, just a lot happier.”
“As a recording process, it was pretty fraught with obstacles,” Donnell remembers. Although the factors mentioned threatened to slow proceedings down, Donnell described the ‘Halves’ experience as much more pleasant than its predecessor.
“I used to be a ball of self-destructive stress,” he laughs. “I didn’t really know how to do it. I remember turning up to the studio and I was a bit hung over one day and I wanted to record the song All Eyes live and I just couldn’t do it. It was just miserable, a real miserable day. This album was a breeze by comparison, just a lot happier.”
Testament to the more excitable atmosphere (plus “just really digging” his wife’s pipes), a prominent motif with this sophomore outing is a feathery display of harmonies. Donnell explains it as one of those magical things that came out of the band being stripped down to its bare essentials.
“The surviving members, me, Rachel and pianist Dale (Campbell) tried to form our own line up and do the songs in that way. We ended up doing a whole bunch of gigs all around the place as a three-piece, and it was just harmonies. We got forced into these simple, harmony-based ways of performing so we could survive and keep playing.”
“The surviving members, me, Rachel and pianist Dale (Campbell) tried to form our own line up and do the songs in that way. We ended up doing a whole bunch of gigs all around the place as a three-piece, and it was just harmonies. We got forced into these simple, harmony-based ways of performing so we could survive and keep playing.”
One of the most graceful examples on is the closing When You’re Letting Go, as Donnell’s harmonic drift tip-toes over a beautifully understated piano ballad. When it comes to songwriting, capturing songs in their essence is of great value to Great North.
“While we want to introduce a new sound, my instincts are probably more derived from a traditional form. The word ‘song’ seems to embody it, something everyone can share and enjoy; a simplicity, like sitting around a piano singing together.
“I’ve actually found the times when I’ve been able to capture something that is almost specific and remote, have been my best songs. I feel like that with a song like To Leave Someone, where I can capture a certain situation or emotion that two people are feeling.”
“I’ve actually found the times when I’ve been able to capture something that is almost specific and remote, have been my best songs. I feel like that with a song like To Leave Someone, where I can capture a certain situation or emotion that two people are feeling.”
From the vast Americana canvas of ‘Newfoundland’, Donnell found himself tackling a more basic song structure as the band looked to refine their overall sound to a more fundamental place. This was subsequently paired with open-ended lyrical depictions that brought an emotional consciousness. With a marriage proposal pending, Donnell was inspired by his own observations and outlook about love and relationships, plus conversations he had with his grand father who recounted days caring for his wife up until her death.
“I was pre-occupied with this idea of trying to establish a life together. A lot of the songs reflect me thinking ahead 20 years, or 40 or 50 years, just long term love and worrying about me screwing it up or wondering how to do it right. I looked at my Poppa who despite it being really hard, considered it an honour to care for her right to the end. I was thinking how he achieved that kind of love. And then there’s some people at the opposite end of the spectrum who wake up and are totally sick of each other.”
“I was pre-occupied with this idea of trying to establish a life together. A lot of the songs reflect me thinking ahead 20 years, or 40 or 50 years, just long term love and worrying about me screwing it up or wondering how to do it right. I looked at my Poppa who despite it being really hard, considered it an honour to care for her right to the end. I was thinking how he achieved that kind of love. And then there’s some people at the opposite end of the spectrum who wake up and are totally sick of each other.”
Such musings are on show in the achingly beautiful slow burner To Leave Someone as Donnell sings, ‘So now you wake at night / Look into that familiar face / Those breaths you used to count / Those hands you used to trace.’
Without any sort of sense of pre-meditation, the songwriter seems to disclose a sensitivity and sincerity that adheres to traditional, time-honoured values of life and love. An apt parallel to the music found on ‘Halves’, life and music in its essence, minus the BS.
This songwriter, who works as a digital reporter by day, seems unfazed by the inevitable challenges of paving the artistic highway in NZ.
“There is still a lot of joy to be had with setting up your instruments and playing with your friends in a room, and that must, on its own, be good.
“There is still a lot of joy to be had with setting up your instruments and playing with your friends in a room, and that must, on its own, be good.
And even if you don’t make any money from it, you still achieve something by doing that. I can say when I’m 65, I put out a couple of albums. Maybe I still might be proud of one of them.”
