Hometown: Melbourne.
The lineup: Mike Katz (synths), Graeme Pogson (drums), Tamil Rogeon (electric strings).
The background: Just imagine, right, that in a couple of days’ time someone with risible hair was the de facto leader of the free world, in charge of the nuclear codes, and, according to most objective assessments, a dangerous sociopath. (“But enough about Hillary Clinton.” Arf.) You might want to obliterate your senses with some good old-fashioned Swedish death metal. Alternatively, you might opt for something more lightly escapist: some heady, twinkling jazz-inflected disco-funk, perhaps, redolent of happier times – the early 80s, say, when the cold war was on. Anyway, if you are in a pre-apocalyptic mood, gripped by panic and dread, you need to hear what Melbourne DJ/producer Mike Katz does as Harvey Sutherland & Bermuda. It’s the sound of Rhodes piano, “electric” (ie, synth) strings, real drums, and party-till-the-bomb-drops handclaps, all deployed in the service of some of the most mesmerising instrumental passages and sublime melodies you’ve heard since Arthur Russell teamed up with Kool and the Gang, which he didn’t but he didn’t need to because now we’ve got Sutherland and his two associates (that’ll be Bermuda) doing it for us.
Sutherland calls this live-band offshoot of his studio-based electronic work “lounge-room disco burners”. There are echoes here of Hercules and Love Affair. That is, real musicians locking together – getting “in the pocket”, to use the parlance of the day. In fact, Sutherland’s homage-paying to his beloved golden age of club music extends to his own use of funk vernacular. “Pocket is essential,” he says when asked whether he is trained in muso proficiency or if you have to have a degree to play with Harvey Sutherland and chums. “I have no formal training, just a bit of time spent learning my minor 9ths,” he , explaining his forays as a solo artist versus his setup with Bermuda. “Playing solo, it’s more programmed drums and 808 club tracks, with improvised synthesiser loops and solos. But the band is a heavy disco excursion with a one-man electric string section and deep-pocket live drums. I just hold on for dear life behind a couple of keyboards.”
Whatever, it works. The song Bermuda – like all of Sutherland and his eponymous outfit’s output, an instrumental and one of Spotify’s Top 10 viral tracks last year – is a shimmering gem. It’s a lattice of lush, jazzy keyboards, burbling bass and funk-tional groove, with an upwards-spiralling synth motif reminiscent of rappers’ delight Summer Madness by the aforementioned Kool. Things take a turn for the cosmic on Bamboo. If you didn’t know, you might assume this stuff was recorded back in the day. Priestess has a bleep and polish that makes it sound more recent - more late- than early-80s, with a Detroit techno sheen and some Chicago house piano. Nine minutes long and languorous, it evolves slowly, with a hypnotic quality that is positively psychedelic. Melody is key: Katz is more into George Duke than he is George Clinton. Meanwhile, his keyboard lines dovetail magnificently with drummer Graeme Pogson’s relentless four-on-the-floor rhythms and Tamil Rogen’s sky-caressing strings. Bravado could be a lost Isley Brothers B-side from the 70s, while Nexus sounds like the backing track to Patrice Rushen’s 1982 postdisco classic Forget Me Nots. Like a lot of disco music designed ostensibly for the dancefloor, Sutherland’s compositions strike an unexpected wistful note, capturing – as New Order and Pet Shop Boys did with their best music – the ineffable sadness of this social ritual. New Paradise is full of moments – a dancing, playful synth pattern here, a wash of keyboards there – that seem to acknowledge the irony (or is that poignancy?) of such goodtime music being tinged with melancholy.
Still, there’s nothing sad about Australia’s neo-disco-funk scene. We mention Harts and Flight Facilities to Katz, and he gets competitive: “Raise you Krakatau, Sui Zhen and Sampa the Great,” he says. “There’s a lot happening out here.” And now here’s Katz as alter ego Harvey Sutherland, whose superhero power is generating heat on the dancefloor.
“When I play solo, it’s a gamble,” he says, assessing the effects of his lovely music on audiences. “Crowd engagement is the difference between a good and a great show, so when they’re connected with what you’re doing, you can take improvisational risks and enjoy the experience a lot more. I can’t usually see the couples from the front, but there were some beautifully sweaty, shirts-off dancefloor moments in Tokyo.” When asked who his most famous fan/Twitter follower/celebrity stalker is, he replies, “Dam Funk,” adding: “Like him, I’m not interested in fame. Just beautiful chords.”
The buzz: “A pitch-perfect homage to jazzy disco-funk.”
The truth: He’s the new wizard of Oz.
Most likely to: Party like it’s 1979 or thereabouts.
Least likely to: Damn the funk.
What to buy: The Priestess/Bravado 12-inch double A-side is out now on Clarity Recordings and Above Board Distribution.
File next to: Hercules and Love Affair, Metro Area, Harts, Flight Facilities.
Links: Listen on their Soundcloud
Ones to watch: Sirma, Known to Collapse, Freak, World Radio, The Altar of Black Ash.
