Brodie

‘Flutter’ feels both weighty and transportive — can you talk us through the visual world you imagined while crafting it, and how those aesthetics influenced the final sound?

I pictured a grey morning, dew on the grass, still air. The deafening quiet before a traumatic event, how it's tide rolls in and recedes with indifference. The song sounds steely to me, the colour palette cemented with manicured lawn. I loved Fugazi's 'The Argument' growing up, so I think that album cover made it's way in there somewhere. I love mono reverbs on impact points in the stereo field with songs - they always create these pockets of texture to grab onto, like walking round the factory floor hearing metal scrape and crash. I threw a few of those reverbs around for this song. 

You’ve described the outro of ‘Flutter’ as “pure escapism.” How does your personal style — musically or visually — act as a kind of armour or escape in your day-to-day life?

I wore a lot of yellow out the house today, taking some meetings. It's just expression I guess, and expression is an escapism of sorts. Transporting yourself to a different headspace. I've always been pretty reclusive making music so in that way it's been a protective bubble. It's vulnerable sharing music as well so I guess you have to protect yourself that way. I walk, drive and eat faster than most people because i'm always rushing to get back to the studio hah. 

There’s an emotional precision to your production that feels almost architectural. How do you approach building a track like ‘Flutter’ — is it more instinct or structure?

Thank you! Kind words. Definitely architectural, and like construction it's usually behind schedule and over budget. I remember being struck by Jean Luc Godard's 1963 film 'Contempt' and the way he used light and room dimensions in that iconic 15 minute  middle sequence. Music throws so much information at you when listening you want the feeling of the space without noticing it. So in that way making it is both. I will say it went through many stages before getting to what people are hearing. One day I want to write and finish something in a day... but today is not that day. 

Tell us about working with photographer Kelly Nerae — how do her visuals connect with the inner world of this project?

Kelly is an angel! So kind and her work is very mystical to me. I love that she uses as much physical processing as possible, instead of heavily post-producing images. That Christopher Nolan approach. It's ephemeral and nature-driven, like a dark pool in a mountain cave. Gets me to that place, y'kno. I always liked records that have elements of old analog and digital artifice combined, and I feel like she captures that with her images. Everyone follow her!

From Melbourne to Hobart, your creative journey has moved through very different cultural textures. How has place informed your aesthetic — musically or stylistically?

Hilly Hobart felt like coming home, but Melbourne I was enamoured by since a teen. Growing up outside Brisbane it was the polar opposite of what I had experienced, with it's own microcosmic scenes and studied introspection. It's interesting that because I started making music way later than most artists, by the time I'm actually making something I want to show people that I wouldn't be living closer to the 'music industry'. Which is to say, I didn't utilise the scene in Melbourne as much as I should, and I'm not sure I would be out at every show hustling now even if I was. I still live in an alternate reality most of the time. 

There’s a tactile, almost wearable quality to your soundscapes. If ‘Flutter’ were a piece of clothing or a material — what would it be?

I almost threw out one of my old favourite acid-wash trench coats from Shinjuku in the studio and house renovation I just did. It has this dry stiffness to the denim, with a worn padded inner layer and knee-cut trim. A grey hood as well. 'Flutter' feels a bit like saving that coat. Like an opportunity for renewal; to breathe new life into it's busted front zips. You can spot the coat from a mile away, but tracing the crease lines from distressed stone wash up close it becomes more opaque. A bit like politics. That being said I used to wear crazier shit, but these days i'm trying to refine clothes to the essentials. I up-cycled most my wardrobe this month, now it's a blank slate of possibility. I want it that way.