FEATURE:
Spotlight
Hamish Hawk
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FOR this Spotlight…
I am focusing on a solo artist who has released one of the most accomplished albums of the year. Heavy Elevator is the new one from Hamish Hawk. The Edinburgh-based songwriter is an artist that you need to know about. With a lyrical style that is very much his own, Hawk has attracted the attention of radio stations like BBC Radio 6 Music. I am going to bring in a review for Heavy Elevator in a minute. Before that, there are a couple of interviews that are worth exploring. The Skinny spoke with Hawk about the abstract imagery that runs through Heavy Elevator:
“A storyteller, subverting common misconceptions of pop; an architect, constantly polishing and redeveloping; music as an act of creation that can have no end. Hamish Hawk’s Heavy Elevator is comprised of a series of wittily dark character portraits that find themselves fleshed out in dramatic chamber pop fashion, elucidated by seemingly incoherent imagery and lyrical phrasing. Accompanying them, so far, are three equally dark and wittily performed videos, existing, if anything, to amplify this universe that is Hawk’s Heavy Elevator. In one, Hawk appears as a jester, channelling the fool from King Lear, in another he's playing badminton in Leith Theatre. What both set up, though, is that with this record, things are getting serious.
For Hawk, though, this outward performativity lends itself to a better sense of authenticity when it comes to translating this record, which stands as something much darker, more mature, than any previous projects. “It feels more real to me,” he says. “But in order to communicate that, you need to push yourself away a bit, and almost say to an audience ‘I’m not going to do much talking to you, and it might look like I’m in my own world, but it’s because I’m concentrating on communicating it to you in the appropriate way.’ So out of a desire to be authentic, it almost looks like more of a performance, where what I was doing before, to me, was way more of a performance.” Retaining this authenticity to his music, and by virtue of that, himself, Hawk’s communication and performance of Heavy Elevator stands to depart from anything he has done before.
This sense of change seeps further through the record, using pop music as a skeleton from which to structure a body of work that is darker and more aggressive, yet more fully-formed, and ultimately, enjoyable to hear. Take Caterpillar and its new-wave danceability, and consider the troubled voice that runs through it: ‘Kill me, kill me, kill me / Killer offer me relief’. “Caterpillar was the kind of song that I thought: my mum isn’t going to like this,” he says. Which does present a struggle, or conflict with this way of performing. If pop structures act as a vehicle through which you can bear yourself, you can emit darkness and dance away with it, how do you avoid taking things too far?
The answer would be Hawk’s esoteric lyrical vignettes. “I think really, if people are anything like me, they’re crying out for stuff that is something they don’t quite get. Something you don’t understand can be really exciting; it's the way to move forward,” he explains. “I love the idea of lyrics that are original thoughts. And what I’m trying to do with my music is have as many of those original thoughts as possible.” The result of this is a record with a plenitude to unpack. An example being The Mauritian Badminton Doubles Champion, 1973, which opens with lines that are easy to find yourself hung-up on, in their simultaneous complex simplicity: ‘To write a cathedral, I’ll need a ball-point pen / It’ll sound like Common People sung by Christopher Wren”.
His 2019 E.P., Laziest River, is a rewarding and rich listen. I think there is something even more astonishing and compelling in Heavy Elevator. It is clear how much time Hamish Hawk has spent on the record. It must have been tough putting it together through lockdown. The Strange Brew interviewed Hawk and asked that very question:
“How did you record Heavy Elevator? Was it a quick process?
The band and I set up camp in Post Electric Studio, Edinburgh, for two weeks, which is by no means an exhaustive length of time in which to record an album, but it was the longest we had ever spent recording so it felt like a definite step-up. We were all so fiercely committed to the project; the recording time went by in a flash.
What led you to meeting and collaborating with Rod Jones of Idlewild?
Rod introduced himself when the band and I performed at the Iona Village Hall Music Festival on the Isle of Iona back in 2016. He said he was interested in recording some sessions with us, and we were all really keen. The rest is history really; chats about ‘the music’ became more and more in-depth, a few meetings were held, a few support slots with Idlewild were promptly snapped up, and here we are. His guidance and experience has been a huge benefit to us; I’m looking forward to continuing to collaborate in the future.
Your music videos are very distinctive, typified by ‘Calls to Tiree’. Who have you worked with on your latest videos?
The video for Calls to Tiree, in which a jester prances around on a desolate beach, was dreamed up by my friend and bandmate Andrew Pearson, and I owe him a real debt of gratitude for it. I couldn’t have imagined a more fitting visual accompaniment to the song. Quite often I struggle to achieve a certain distance from my songs, and from what I see as their defining features. Incorporating Andy’s take on the songs allows for an entirely new, and often leftfield visual language to establish itself, and it makes it really exciting for me. Ellen De Faux, who directed the Caterpillar video, achieved precisely the same thing. Both Andy and Ellen had an innate sense for would work; I was more than happy to sit back and watch it unfold.
How does Heavy Elevator compare with your previous material?
Heavy Elevator is the most fully formed album I’ve ever recorded. I think the songs are bigger, more daring, and probably more vulnerable too. There’s a maturity and a confidence in there that simply comes with the passage of time. But I think it’s clear we took the time to consider and reconsider what we were doing more so than we did on previous records. We worked really hard on it, and I think it shows.
Where are you from and where are you based now? What is the music scene like?
I’m from Edinburgh and have lived here most of my life. Writing and performing here for as long as I have, I’ve found I often have to offer some justification for why I haven’t relocated to Glasgow, or London, or any other city popularly considered to be more ‘hospitable’ to local music. Honestly I’ve found Edinburgh’s music scene suits me to a tee. There is no shortage of hugely dedicated musicians and venue owners here, and personally I’ve found the scene really nurturing. I think it’s only improving with time as well.
You play a brilliant version of Suzanne .What artists, including Leonard Cohen, have influenced you and why?
It goes without saying that Leonard Cohen has influenced my songwriting hugely; I think you’d struggle to find a lyricist who says otherwise. He’s one amongst many lyrical heroes of mine, though. Others include Stephin Merritt (of The Magnetic Fields), Randy Newman, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, Nick Cave, Dory Previn, Vic Chesnutt. They tell their own stories their own way and spare little thought for how anyone might feel about that. I admire them all tremendously”.
There is one more interview I want to spotlight before getting to a review. You Wanted a List quizzed Hawk about (among other things) the artists that he admires and respects the most:
“What albums would you recommend others listen to?
I have countless favourites, but there are definitely a handful of records that I think don’t get talked about enough. Mythical Kings & Iguanas by Dory Previn is one of them. Dory Previn is such a singular voice, and more often than not you end up discussing her and her work at length with whoever is there when you put on her records. She seemed to move very much in her own direction, which is no small feat considering the album was released in 1971. I’ll admit, there are moments in her canon where the music veers a little too far towards the soft and loungey for my tastes, but her lyrics are always superb. She is so honest, and there’s a wry humour in her work that inspires me a great deal.
The other side of the coin would be The White Stripes by The White Stripes. Their third, fourth and sixth albums tend to come up in conversation more often than their debut, but for me The White Stripes has always been the one. I could wax lyrical about it till the cows come home, and often do, but suffice to say you’d be hard pressed to find a band with a better sense of who they are, what they’re doing and where they’re hoping to go than The White Stripes on their debut. It is the most undeniable statement of intent from an impossibly influential band. When music critics use the word ‘raw’ in reviews, I often ask myself whether or not they’ve heard this record. Is it my favourite debut album ever? Absolutely. Is it my favourite album ever? Yeah, probably.
Which artists working today do you admire most?
The artists I admire the most tend to display qualities I doubt in myself. As far as songwriters go, I’m hugely inspired by Jack White, Nick Cave and Stephin Merritt, not only thanks to their songwriting talent, but because of their seemingly unshakeable work ethic. Each is very disciplined and dutiful when it comes to setting aside time to write. It doesn’t so much fly in the face of the ‘don’t force it’ attitude towards the artistic process as it does cast doubt on the ‘it’ll come eventually’ attitude.
I’m guilty of having treated songwriting like a magical process in the past, and as much as it can often feel like that, particularly when a complete song seems to spring out of nothing, it’s more often than not a matter of taking the time out to write, of getting into position to tease out new ideas. I’m a perfectionist to a fault, so I always try to remind myself of those who recognise failure as a crucial part of the process.
Outside of the world of music, I’m certainly inspired by David Hockney; he has a wonderful, almost child-like approach to his art, inasmuch as he sees himself as a perennial student. Now in his eighties, I’m inspired by how much his work continues to exhibit a sense of fun, and a willingness to experiment and be curious”.
There have been a lot of positive reviews for Heavy Elevator. The album marks Hawk as an artist with a bright and interesting future ahead. Secret Meeting were keen to have their say about an album that they were blown away by:
“On an immaculate collection of songs that tether themselves to your memory, Hamish Hawk establishes himself as a songwriting heavyweight
Ah sweet romance. The crimsons and reds of racing blood, the salty lick of tears at the corner of lips, and the dazzling lights and siren of alarms. Heavy Elevator, the latest album from Edinburgh based, Hamish Hawk, is abound with it. It is there from the throbbing pulse of synth that traces through opener, Vivan Comma, and it is still present in the fading twinkle of optimistic notes that round out New Rhododendrons. But, residing a world away from the typical fare of romantic love, the romance found here is in the trembling lows and giddy elevations of a life thoroughly lived.
Continuing a long held relationship with Rod Jones of Idlewild and The Birthday Suit, who acts as Hawk’s manager and now producer, Heavy Elevator is a richly textured enclave of senses and sounds ranging from baroque pop to strutting pomp rock to grieving balladry. An erudite and highly literate individual, Hawk wields his words with an intriguing mix of heartfelt confession and scathingl sarcastic wit.
Flowing from the mundane to the absurd, his own memories are peppered throughout, and while the rose tinted glasses are occasionally crushed under the foot of heavy experience, there is a palatable ache of gratitude to his stories. His are words that ring out from the rafters – from the mouth of a songwriter happy to have these tales to share.
It is no stretch to say there is a bardic quality to his writing. Utilising a skilful matrimony of prose and lyricism, his lyrics hint at a bookshelf creaking with Gordon Mackay Brown and Norman MacCaig, and leads to enviable verses – (‘Time lifts an eyelid / Lilac kisses an iris / and I rise blinded / You take no notice’ – Your Ceremony).
There are no rough edges on Heavy Elevator. Hawk’s compositions and Jones’ production are immaculate. This does not, however, rob the record of a human connection. The care and attention to detail in its creation are what tether it to your memory. And the romance in which he wraps his own past is a lesson to all of us: to embrace life and love hard, regardless of the outcome, for it will all be over far too soon – ‘If you lose track of what you’ve loved in the past / There’s no going back’ – New Rhododendrons)”.
If you have not yet followed Hamish Hawk, go and do so. I have only recently found his work, but it is clear that there is plenty more music to come from the Scottish songwriter. Heavy Elevator is a fantastic album that everyone should seek out. Hamish Hawk is most certainly…
A terrific talent.
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