Pumice, the Dead C, as well as the numerous monikers of Campbell Kneale have helped connoisseurs of oddball music salvage extraordinary goings-on from the New Zealand underground; Stefan Neville and his feats as Pumice extend as far back to coincide with Flying Nun's peak in the early-to-mid '90s. Neville hadn't received much significant coverage until the 2007 release of Pebbles not only ascribed to being the most rock-like album out of the catalog but arriving just in time for lo-fi's short-lived praise from bloggers. A sprawling departure was made on the self-titled EP released two years ago, with the saturated dirge "Fool Fool Fool Moon" acknowledging Neville's growing palate for experimentalism.
PUNY furthers his hankering, including 12 minutes of warmhearted, bagpipe-like organ vibrations on "Trophy" and balladry deconstructed to pure garble on "Smell the Towel" that an unacquainted audience could easily dismiss as mere indulgence. The notion that the public may not 'get' Pumice isn't a green-light for PUNY to be held in high regard as misunderstood brilliance, but newcomers should be mindful of the fact that Neville writes music unlike anyone else, unfailingly evading conventionalism and its limitations.
This, still delivering an eclectic set of songs, has potential to be the most thematic oeuvre under the Pumice handle. Envisioning "Stink Moon" and "Hump Piss" is uncomfortably absurd, playing into a leitmotif of filth and disorder. Having been four years since his last full-length, one would suspect that Neville has gone out of his way to mull over the messiness, but it bears as much grit as its precursors do, wrapping each composition in a ramshackle charm.
This isn't to say that PUNY scants outstanding songcraft. "Hey Crap Crab" summarizes the album's ethos: Neville's voice is customarily obscured by dampening overdrive, muttering over an off-kilter assembly of snare hits, modulated keyboards, and muffled strums. Standing tall as one of Pumice's finest is "Coeliacs Bring a Plate", in which an infectiously askew guitar melody plods along a marching band rhythm section. What could have been an unforgettable farewell is the sincere "Covered in Spiders", opening with "Tractor Rape Chain"-esque chords and settling into a refrain of cozy keys. PUNY is subject to and composed of imperfection, a sort that can engross one in its tangibility.
[Pumice Discogs]
[Buy PUNY from Soft Abuse]
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