- Sigmund Freud was convinced all of life’s achievements result from frustration. The more crushingly intense the disappointment, the stronger the rebound, sublimating all that dammed up energy into new endeavours. Life finds a way and you can probably think of ten records that have been crooned, bellowed and wailed into existence that way. I can add a new one to the list, with the unexpected reappearance of Hunz, for the first time in a decade. Otherwise known as Hans van Vliet, the former mainstay of the electronic scene in Brisbane has returned in a gale of emotional pain and arctically cold electronic-pop.
A whole new full-length, Echochamber, materialised on Bandcamp with little fanfare. He makes few bones about what he’s up to, stating flatly “It's an album I wrote over the month of February that helped me move on from the failures and loss I've experienced over the last few years.” My therapeutic pain for your listening pleasure, perhaps? The whole record brims with hurt, delivered in Hunz’ high, smooth but plaintive voice. It makes a difference, it’s much easier to spend the better part of an hour listening to the man pour out his heart when it sounds like this. I was trying to think of just who Hunz reminded me of and I kept reaching for other cold, dark producer-vocalists like LUCIANBLOMKAMP or James Blake, but the vocals here are, really, a cut above and maybe comparisons to emotive pop idols like Cub Sport, Hozier or even the falsetto soaring of Bon Iver are what’s in order. Also Hunz likes to hood his vowels in a way that’s deeply reminiscent of Robert Smith, which, finally, may be the neatest comparison. You may -of course- not need to compare them to anyone - the takeaway is that they’re pretty good in their own right.
The synths and beats are just the right fit for the vocals. Sitting somewhere between the sugary sweetness of synthpop and the harsh snap of electro, Echochamber always finds a way to balance the matching harshness of Hunz feelings with very listenable melodicism: a sweet lament.
I find the lyrics a little eliptical, like each song was an early session with a psychotherapist and Hunz wants to unleash but, at some level, isn’t quite prepared to face his trauma in the cold light of day. A song like No Change, for instance, seems to bemoan the interpersonal tug of war that couples go through, but then I look again and it could be talking politics or philosophy; arguing with a crowd or just yelling at the TV news. “I believe that everyday we change / I can't even remember when we agreed. / You believe in the heartache of all for change / I believe that we stand against all greed.” In the end, whatever the details, it spirals back into heartache: “You’ve Hardened Your Heart As Always / You’ve Hardened Your Heart As Always.”
If that song remains the same, it seems to hold over the long haul too. If you go back past a game soundtrack or two that he’s produced, the last properly personal Hunz record, 2009’s Thoughts That Move bears a striking resemblance in both theme and style to Echochamber. Does Hans van Vliet return to Hunz only when his life crashes to its lowest point? I feel a bit like a vulture circling the scene, or a vampire attached to the sweet, cold syrup, pumping through his music. We often bemoan the echochambers in which we live, the inability to break out of the repetitive cycle, haunted by the same old refrains. Listening to Hunz once again, still pushing all his pain into the music, if nothing else, it’s easy to realise how seductive that can be.
- Chris Cobcroft.