It’s a sunny, chilly day in Palmerston North, and four people are sitting in their backyard talking rubbish. Wait, there should be five of them. Where’s the fifth? Theories are put forth; he either has a cold, or is playing bass for Coldplay that night. Nothing is certain with Khaki Department as Bing Turkby’s research reveals.
Khaki Department is packed with people who are well-known in the Manawatū music scene. Throw a dart at any Palmy band and there’s a good chance it’ll stick in the leg of Jordan Kupe and/or Daniel Brown. That’s how close they’re sitting, and also how prominent they are. (NB: Please don’t throw darts at bands, that was just a metaphor.)
In Khaki, Kupe stands up front punishing a guitar, while Brown is in back, battering the drums. They’re joined by Ce Goacher on synths, Shannen Petersen on guitar and Ben Foster on bass. Brodie Jenkins played guitar on some of the tracks of their just-released debut album ‘Local Honey’, but has since moved overseas.
Any one of them might contribute vocals at any given time, but according to Brown it’s Kupe’s band, and it’s Kupe you’ll see most often accosting a microphone at a Khaki gig – reflecting on low-budget life in Te Papaioea with hyper-realism – or else digging into big issues. Their song Burning Bush initially didn’t have many lyrics until Kupe started yelling “Free Palestine” when they played it one time. Now, that cathartic song is one of the crowd favourites. The band use the self-coined ‘rungle’ to describe their sound and their kaupapa.
“We’re quite fortunate, because we have a community that both accepts the weird, and loves the weird – and expects the weird, to be honest – but we also have venues that are not bound by any commerciality,” Goacher explains. “You can play a show and five people come and it’s a success. And that is why things like this can happen.”
She’s talking about how it is for Palmerston North bands.
“The sound comes from that environment of freedom from expectations and norms.”
These community-focused venues also provide a literal safe haven when some other venues are not safe for our community, as Kupe expresses it., the Drummer Dan Brown has been doing his best to spend the interview lurking quietly at the back, nursing a cheeky grin, but can’t help from contributing on this topic.
“The idea that one’s success is actually dictated by whether or not the homies fucken dig it.”
This band works together for the song and for the scene, the love of music oozing out of their proletariat pores. The aroha for Radio Control is palpable, and I’m assured it’s not just because half the band work there. The station gives local bands an entry point into nationwide airplay. Khaki Department’s track Harmonicus rocketed into the radiosphere a while back, and has gone on to be played tens, if not dozens of times across the motu. Radio NZ even called it their ‘audacious riff of the week’.
They band are soon going on tour to increase their profile outside the Manawatū. Petersen describes touring as “…like the most punishing holiday,” that involves doing the hard mahi of “…spending 10 hours in a van with eight other people.”
But that’s just what you have to do if you want to take your music to more people.
“We’re definitely losing money,” Goacher asserts.
“It’s like a backwards scheme,” helps Petersen. “No-one’s asking for Khaki Department…”
The benefit of this lack of focus on money means they feel comfortable doing things their own way.
“We’re not necessarily a genre-specific band,” says Brown, which is picked up on by Goacher.
“We’re kaupapa-specific. Like our song Slow Mosh, that is the kaupapa song. Recognising people in the community and what they do. Being with your friends, bumping into each other in a gentle and loving way. That’s the consistent thing of the band, not the sound.”
One time when their bass player was sick Petersen learned all the bass parts on the night of the show, and from then on was in the band. Now they have has become a tight unit, almost as if they actually spend time practising.
Their album ‘Local Honey’ was released on Halloween.‘This is shoegaze for shumbling punks’ says the press kit. Half of the album was recorded live at The Stomach during a Radio Control live-to-air session, while the other half captures the raw energy of the band in various bedrooms and sheds across the Manawatū region – at least according to the release details on bandcamp. During the live-to-air, the bass was cutting out, and it was only Goacher’s second time playing the songs.
“That’s the Khaki way, being real results-focused,” they assert.
Focus track Active Relaxer is lurking out there in the community right now, so keep your eyes peeled. A video was recorded at the flat on Morris Street which consumed the entire budget for recording the album, $160 worth of fish ‘n chips provided by the band to get their friends to embrace the spooky Halloween theme, and take part in one of the more joyous clips to come out of Palmy.
They’re keen to encourage more people to have a go at starting a band.
“It’s what Palmy’s music has always been doing. Rejecting convention, and getting people who barely know how to play instruments to do music and have fun with their friends.”