- More than five years have passed since Helen Franzmann released her last McKisko record Eximo; it’s been the object of cultish adoration all that time, for those who know. Five years lets a lot of water pass under the bridge, which is an apt turn of phrase, given the aquatic themes of McKisko’s latest LP, Southerly, but more than that there’s a slow and subtle yet fundamental change, in the heart of this record.
Opening whisper quiet on sparsely picked acoustic guitar, brushed snare and an almost impossibly gentle roll on the kettle drums, Franzmann sibilantly whispers the song title again and again “Come home to the feeling.” There’s something undeniably optimistic about it: looking forward to something good.
The good mood wavers onwards in Arms Water, a half-dreamed love song over tentative piano that dissolves into tweely tinkling sounds and ever more reverberant, downwardly cascading arpeggios. Liquid limbs can’t quite manage to gain purchase on what’s only half-real but it’s a pleasant dream.
Animal Heart has something more of the tentative urgency that I associate with the McKisko of yore. There are more elemental themes than just water on Southerly. Earth and air press in around this song with phrases like “I want to be a stone in a field / Nothing to see, nothing to feel.” Sometimes it’s playful, especially as Franzmann dips into a couple of bars worth of lullaby: “Sleep darling, when you wake you'll see / Your sweet worries they’ll cease to be.” Finally the primal forces bracket the Animal Heart of the title: stone without and a ‘roaring ocean’ within, propelling the song into a ferocious burst of guitar and, presumably, hurling Helen Franzmann far away from domestic concerns and into some wild spirit journey.
A record this softly spoken could never keep spewing out that level intensity, however. Franzmann politely returns to a gentle three-four lilt for the single Lean Out that’s a duet with Seagull’s Chris Bolton. The pair sound pleasantly medicated, crooning to each other and aren’t very concerned, as the sea decides the fate of their romance: “Waiting in the water / To see if the currents bring me to you.” Interestingly, the only other person I know who’s had a hand in creating Southerly is ‘Nick’, which I assume is Nick Huggins the former impresario of Two Bright Lakes and who now runs its unassuming descendant Little Lakes, which is putting out this new McKisko album. Nick is perhaps best known for his impeccable production work, which through some sorcery manages to make records sound like they were made on your verandah, but when you think about it, the production values are somehow, impossibly perfect. This unlikely blend of hifi DIY is exactly the sound you’ll hear on Southerly.
A lot of Brisbane musicians reference the distant, temperate rainforests on its outskirts. McKisko is departing from there on the previous single’s b-side, driving down Mt. Nebo, accompanied by the songs of lorikeets, tropical parrots and swells of ambient harmony, which will presumably fade as she plans to go “over the Story Bridge and head for the water.” It’s strangely simple, but powerfully effective.
Even the funereal dirge of River Song doesn’t manage to upset Franzmann’s sense of self. The river in question is full of cloying emotion, a woman trying to drag Helen down into the depths, but she’s not having a bit of it. “I kicked and I swam / And I stayed above with all that I am.”
I can’t know exactly what Helen Franzmann found down south, but through it she’s attained emotional wholeness. Everything’s so shyly quiet, even brittle, it’s difficult to perceive until you realise that the howling winds and jagged emotional wastes of Eximo are gone, left somewhere far behind. It’s a fine balance, you can hear Franzmann nearly lose it on the penultimate number, The Reservoir, which is an almost silent panic about personal worth, only for it to be washed away, the boat righted on the final ramble of Wellspring. “Don’t make it sad / You’ll be alright / Let it seep through your skin / Let it spill into the night.” It’s a clear-eyed look at what’s to come, but finally a hopeful one. When you think about it, there aren’t too many alternative music records, or even pop music ones that can boast emotional wholeness, brittle or otherwise. You’ll have to listen quite closely to Southerly to hear it, but I guarantee it’s worth it. What McKisko has found is valuable and something we should all be lucky enough to find.
- Chris Cobcroft.