Ninevolt Records
Marianne Funke PIECES OF DRIFTWOOD Vinyl LP Record NEW
Marianne Funke PIECES OF DRIFTWOOD Vinyl LP Record NEW
Marianne Funke PIECES OF DRIFTWOOD Vinyl LP Record NEW.
New Zealand outsider Maxine Funke returns with an odds-and-sods anthology that spotlights her versatility with quirky drum machine workouts and DIY tape chop-ups alongside the usual tangled folk.
Described in the past as "Vashti Bunyan grow[ing] up on the Flying Nun catalog", Maxine Funke inhabits a particularly delicate corner of the New Zealand DIY scene. Releasing music since the mid 2000s, with Alastair Galbraith and Mike Dooley in $100 Band, and then solo, she's amassed a vast catalogue of low-key essentials, many of which appeared on a variety of random compilations, 7"s and lathe cuts. "Pieces of Driftwood" pulls a handful of Funke's rarest material together for the first time, bundling it with a couple of unreleased tracks just for good measure, and it shows how casually experimental she's been since the beginning.
'Rearview', a collaboration with Alastair Galbraith, was recorded for a 99-track benefit comp for Charalambides' Tom Carter and sparks the album to life with distorted Arab Strap-like drum machine cycles and moody guitar noodles. But by 'First in Spring' - snipped from Independent Woman Records' "Strange Eden" compilation - Funke is leaning into cheery lo-fi folk again, singing over tape hiss so dominant it practically needs a songwriting credit. 2018's "I Dischi Del Barone" 7" is included in full, and features the genius drum machine improvisation 'Sandhopper', that cuts frenetic hi-BPM rhythm blasts with tape-recorded waves for a short and sharp distraction from Funke's quaint Linda Perhacs-inspired songs.
Funke's unreleased material might be the album's greatest revelation. 'Old Lady Blues' is wonky as fuck, marrying off-kilter cello dissonance with throbbing oscillations and stifled bleeps, while 'South Dunedin' and 'Room in the City' are two of the record's most moving songs, the former sounding like a hushed, dictaphone-dubbed Elliott Smith and the latter dissolving into Broadcast-style prog-folk in its final act.
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