The Phoenix Foundation
Happy Ending
Flying Nun/ Warner



They say (as always, who exactly they are is somewhat vague, but presumably it refers to forensic linguists, or some such) that the accents of New Zealand are the closest in existence to the English spoken in Victorian-era England. Presumably the migrants of the time perfectly preserved their way of speaking, and much of the music that comes out of New Zealand harks back to an earlier time in a similar manner.

Wellington indie-rock group The Phoenix Foundation have a timeless sound, but one that seems to reach back to various touchstones from the last four decades of British music. The clean, crisp. sweet melodies and well-used harmonies also associate them with the lineage of Flying Nun records, to whom they are signed for this their third full length.

From the opening track, the vocals sound like Samuel Flynn Scott is yearning, reaching out for something and for all the musical changes, this impression is a constant throughout the album That song, Bright Grey , swathes the guitars in layers of vocal callbacks and electronics, while the bright poppy back-up vocals are also a big part of Bleaching Sun, which evokes the more sophisticated end of Britpop.

Slumber Party strips away the guitars to replace them with a solemn piano and mournful vocals saturated in electronics as the sound builds up, building to a rich musical climax while the vocals become increasingly despaired and lyrics ever darker. There's certainly a little of the early Pink Floyd spund in this, and also the instrumental Omerta and the shimmering synths of Gandalf.

40 years is the stand-out pop moment, and one that sounds most like the New Zealander's regular territory (though it's hard to tell what this truly is), with a playfulness that doesn't come through so much on rest of the record ("and I'm feeling the stagnation/ but it's just a fabrication/ born out of complications/ with my primary vocation"). It's followed by Irrelevant Noise and these two songs form a wonderful passage that could not help to win over any listener - the latter is lush, dreamy pop with a sweet slide adding a lilting South Pacific air that certainly resembles their recent work on the 'Eagle vs. Shark' soundtrack, from which they tried to distance themselves on this album which is generally far rockier.

The winsome acoustic A Day In The Sun lays Scott's lyrics bare for once, instead of covering them up with layers of sound as the rest of the album does before the rather louche slinking bass and hi-hat of Pure Joy provides another change of pace, and when Scott. does a Nick Cave turn, railing against the cabaret backdrop by screaming each chorus louder and rawer, the voice sounds like it's finally on the track to finding what it's been searching for the whole album. But it's the artist's journey to keep searching for that elusive 'it', and even if he doesn't quite reach it, he certainly brings the listener close.

Alexis Buxton-Collins