Photo: Ebony Lamb Photography
Reading about the career of Grayson Gilmour, it becomes obvious he was a musical sponge from a young age. He made his first albums while working as a janitor at Palmerston North’s The Stomach recording studio, and went on to study composition at Victoria university, before the advent of So So Modern, his band who attracted plenty of overseas attention and touring opportunities.
Gilmour proceeded to branch out into scoring films, all the while releasing his own solo albums. He’s preternaturally talented at doing everything himself, so maybe it makes sense that his latest, Holding Patterns, sees him embracing collaboration, and improvisation.
‘Oblivion’ starts the album, and immediately features a few touchstones from Gilmour’s past work: those big synth washes, the syncopated drums, and his hushed voice.
The drums come courtesy of Cory Champion, tumbling over themselves and creating that feeling of impetus, like the song is rushing to its conclusion. It contributes to the feeling of adrenalised melancholy that colours Gilmour’s music, a mode I usually associate with dance acts.
There’s also a rush of orchestration near the end. One song in and it’s like the musical equivalent of a heart about to burst. The feeling continues on track two.
‘Here We Are’ touches on Gilmour’s feelings around parenthood. Knowing that it seems obvious why the start of the song sounds a bit like an ultrasound, nevermind the snatches of a child’s voice that follows.
Gilmour said it was written in response to the sleep-deprived lows he encountered after becoming a father. The simple, touching affirmation of the lyric “here we are” is reflected in its straightforward tempo, a steady rhythm resembling a heartbeat.
‘XO Artifacts’ meanwhile is all skittering breakbeats, with Gilmour’s vocal melody and a mirrored bassline providing a steady anchor.
Gilmour tried to steer away from guitar on the album, and rearranged keyboard parts into wind instruments, strings or synths. There are also brass and harp players on the album, backing vocalists, Jacqui Nyman on bass, Olivia Campion playing percussion, and on the title track, the sound of Ruby Solly’s taonga pūoro.
The collaborative nature of the record reaches its apex on this instrumental cut, which was improvised in the studio, then reassembled in post-production. It begins as a dense blur of notes, crescendos as more recognisable instruments enter, then over its last few minutes pulls apart, its delicate parts in conversation with each other.
Over the course of Holding Patterns, Grayson Gilmour adapts lyrics from poetry and a short story, shares lead vocals with Sandy Ndu on one song, and by his own admission opened up to outside influence more than he has in the past. He said working from home during the pandemic made him comfortable contacting people out of the blue.
Despite all this, its creators' artistic signatures burn bright, none more so than his singing voice, which remains distinct; always lingering in that breathy midrange, bursting with empathy.
