A 2024 Bin Juice Retrospective
We launched Bin Juice in May of this year, and since then it's been a stacked year for music! We look back on our journey so far and what's coming in 2025.
When I started Bin Juice, it was born from a place of wanting to champion the young, new and emerging artists who often get overlooked by local media. It’s so hard to get any sort of media traction in New Zealand, and music and arts journalism has all but withered away. The arts and media landscapes are intertwined, often sharing practitioners across both disciplines, and both industries have faced a serious decades-long gap in funding. I’ve run Bin Juice completely for free, and made my work available completely for free, in order to benefit the artists who come calling. It’s not easy, and my posting schedule has been fairly inconsistent over the year, but here we are, with 22 published articles since May 2024, representing a burgeoning network of artists who have been able to capture and archive their live performances, share their stories with the world in their own words, and grow their audience bases.
Looking back on 2024, I wanted to start with my journey as an artist and a writer. Some of you may know that I am the artist currently known as ADV. This year I released my debut album, Trust Issues. It was a huge undertaking to produce the first ever Afro-Kiwi visual album. It’s scary being the first person to do something, but I was comforted by the overwhelmingly positive response from the arts community who saw the value of what I do, the stories I tell, and the work that I have put in. When Trust Issues came out, I received rather minimal media traction. It really felt like a blow that after all of this hard work and careful planning, I just hadn’t been in the game long enough or made the right connections to give Trust Issues the flowers it deserved. And that’s why I started Bin Juice.
Bin Juice was a response to the frustration I felt at the time — that if I could help make other artists’ lives easier, so that they never feel the way I felt, then that would be enough. After we published our first review of Sam Cullen’s stunning Whammy Backroom show, we were immediately inundated with review requests. I tried to go to everything that I could until I had no capacity to attend live shows, and pivoted to interviews in order to still give artists a chance to be heard. And throughout all of this, our subscriber base and social media following grew and grew.
The reviews
This year, we published 13 reviews, including 9 gig reviews and 4 album reviews. Going to gigs and seeing the breadth of performers in Auckland has been such a joy. I have attended more gigs than I have written reviews for, and there are still two gig reviews sitting in my drafts waiting for some love. I wanted to give a special shout out to those artists who invited me along, but I never had capacity to fully capture their performances, namely Serebii and The Early 20’s. Serebii’s gig at Neck of the Woods was absolutely sublime. His folk-R&B blend is so beautifully nuanced, his on-stage persona is mystifying, and his capacity to interweave the strengths of his fellow band mates is remarkable. An extra special mention for JY Lee on the saxophone, who elevated the gig to another level of artistry. The other performance worth noting is The Early 20’s at the MAINZ Archives, Big Fan. I think they put on one of my favourite performances this year, fuelled by too many beers, and a genuine love for what they do. Their song Vultures has made its way into my Spotify Wrapped, and their cover of Voom’s I Want My Baby was probably the best cover I have seen all year.
I always think of the stellar lines that pepper my reviews. I feel so cunty in the moment when I find the best way to articulate something that carries a particular energy. Of Sam Cullen’s audience, I opined: This is a trendy lot, of Gabe Pietrafesa’s kin, verging on collectively becoming Tiktok’s next white boy of the month. Thabani Gapara’s music filled the air with love: A couple in front of us start making out, and I’m reminded that to others, jazz is romantic, seductive, flirtatious. When Jed Parsons’ show fell apart, I lamented: If you came along to celebrate New Zealand Music Month, you’re met with music production quality akin to the tinny melodic samples native to a Casio keyboard. Gibson XCVIII received: I find myself praying for Dean to put down the disposable camera that makes at least five appearances throughout the short set. The first time was cute, charming even. The fifth time, the gag was tired. Ponsonby Social Club caught strays at the Jason Parker and Isla Noon gig: This is the first time I have felt the venue live up to its name — it actually feels like a social club. Even Adrian Brown’s audience couldn’t catch a break: In a certain way, this audience is here to witness a clinical performance, probably all jazz graduates themselves, with such an academic approach to music that they have lost the capacity to liberate their bodies from the shackles of capitalistic rigidity. I even threw punches at my favourite record store: Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of Flying Out, but their basement really is just that — a basement. With no ventilation, the smell mixes with Lynx Africa, teenage angst, and body heat, which makes the mugginess outside feel like a reprieve.
Reviews are more than just snappy lines, they’re a record, an archive, of moments that would otherwise disappear into the ether. Whether it’s a small gig from first timers, or a music festival that spans the entirety of the central city, everything is worth documenting, everything is worth noting, everything is worth making a fuss over. Art is just as valid for someone firing up a setlist for the first time, as it is for someone who has done innumerable world tours. Often the only thing that separates these artists is time and money. I’m stoked that I have been able to be a small part of these artists’ journeys, capturing in words how it feels to be in the audience, in a way that is neither overly generous nor devoid of authenticity.
The interviews
Over the course of the year, I have been lucky enough to meet many artists who have wanted to share their stories with the world. These conversations have been incredibly enlightening for me, being able to peek behind the curtain to see the gruelling process of making art, and learning about the ups and downs that colour each of these expressions. Everyone has a story to tell, and often they find that beyond the music itself, there are not many opportunities to share that story. I found that even established artists and re-emerging artists are looking for an outlet to speak to their ideas and their experiences. This year, we published 9 interviews, with a few more scheduled to be released in the new year. These interviews have given our audience an insight into many facets of the industry, including what it’s like to be a new artist in 2024, where opportunities for growth and professional development are available, and how artists are innovating new ways to experience their music.
Some highlights include the series promoting Forage Fest, in which I learned new things about my friends Thinking Foxes, who I spend a lot of time with, Club Ruby’s video game, and Goodspace’s Vendor installation. Reiki Ruawai really sold me the Raglan dream, and Jason Parker proved to be the world’s biggest advocate for fairy bread. There’s still more to come in this space, with Jujulipps, Sam Fowles, dan dan, FEI LIN and Scions dropping in 2025.
The local
Bin Juice has always prioritised local artists. Being based in Auckland, this meant leaning heavily into the music scene of Tāmaki Makaurau, spending a lot of time at the various venues and studios that make up the local music ecosystem. Of course, there were artists this year who made their way onto Bin Juice’s pages despite being out-of-towners, but Bin Juice in 2024 has really relied on this sense of place that comes through quite strongly in the writing.
2025, however, will be different. In January I will moving to Naarm/Melbourne, and as such Bin Juice will be coming with me as I redefine what is local to me. In a certain way, the global is local, which we really got a sense of when Scions reached out to me for an album review all the way from Canada. I have never been to Canada, and I have no idea how they found my little publication, which has a geographic centre that doesn’t stray too far from K Road. As such, our books are opening more and more to young, new and emerging artists worldwide, while keeping a keen focus on Auckland and Melbourne as the epicentre. While I am over in Naarm, I hope to find a writer in Auckland who is equally as passionate about music as I am, and who enjoys giving their most honest takes in a public forum, to keep doing gig reviews in Auckland. At the same time, if you know any artists in Melbourne who would benefit from having their gigs and music reviewed, please feel free to introduce them to Bin Juice.
The future
I am really excited for the future of Bin Juice. In 2025, with the move to Naarm, we will also be launching Bin Juice Radio. This is a huge undertaking, but it will provide an incredible opportunity for artists to share their music and their stories to an audience in realtime, while also providing them with shareable content. With new interviews coming out to kick off the year, and a new music scene to explore, it’s going to be a big year for us!
Thanks heaps to all of the readers who make up the Bin Juice community. In 2024 I was completely slammed with releasing Trust Issues, producing Forage Fest, working full time at Basement Theatre, and running Bin Juice, on top of the various other projects and publications I write for, but my energy for this project and for these artists has never waned. I hope you’ll join us again in 2025 as we continue to build this publication.
Bin Juice x
Photographs by Jennifer de Koning, Alex Twidle, Tinted Productions, Noah Matariki Page, and Azrie Azizi