An Interview with Goodspace - INTERVIEW

Alex de Vries sat down with Goodspace to discuss their new interactive album release, Vendor, coming to Lim Chhour Food Court 28 September.

It’s daytime at Basement Theatre when Jefferson Chen, aka Goodspace, comes through to sit down for a chat. A show is packing in, and production crews are busying about. Nonetheless, we share some quality yaps for their upcoming project, Vendor which serves as the release of their debut album, Let’s Talk About Death.

A. Can you introduce yourself and the name of your project?

J. This musical project goes under the name of Goodspace. My name's Jefferson, and the project that brought us together is a tandem, anchored project, which is two things that have equal importance, but are in the same space. And that is my album - Let's Talk About Death - and the album release/installation, which is called Vendor. Vendor is an unconventional album release where I have a stall in Lim Chhour Food Court on Karangahape Road. My album is the menu, my songs are the food items, and I pose as a vendor selling free listens of my album as if they're hot meals. And that's just how I want to release the album — I really want to serve it up and, you know, show people what I've been cooking, I guess. And there's a whole bunch of wild intersections there between the actual space of Lim Chhour. It's like a heritage and cultural site around the migrant narrative and hustle culture — hustle culture within just surviving, and then hustle culture within being an artist, where, you have the luxury of making art, but you’ve still got to push in other ways.

Let's Talk About Death is about survival versus living. I think there's a lot of great interceptions there. The main underlying concept, or philosophical approach of Goodspace is that it's music from a good space, and that shouldn't be confused with, music from a nice space. If you've heard any of it, it’s the gritty, tough shit, like, it's pretty hectic and pretty full on music. I guess Let's Talk About Death doesn't necessarily conform to a nice space or warm feelings. So music from a good space means music from a place of acceptance, a place where I kind of get what's going on, but I still want to talk about everything.

A. Let's Talk About Death sounds very ominous. Is this a dark album inspired by any particular memories?

J. Well, I think the first thing that pops into my mind is there's already something to analyse within the cultural and social construct of talking about death, right? The album is called, Let's Talk About Death, but for most people, the word death just overshadows everything else, and that's kind of why I said earlier that every single word is important. Now it's not just death. It's, Let's Talk About Death, which is quite a different action to someone dying, which is closed. So it talks about death in quite a real, objective, impartial way. It's talking about the phenomenon of it. And of course, that draws from my own personal experiences of losing people over the past two years within the family, very closely. There are personal reckonings there. But it's not deeply emotionally angled. Of course, there are emotions within it, but it's not leaning into the kind of moistness of just like being super emotional. It's just about, like this happened, and these textures and colours and feelings sort of informed my writing process, and this is what came out. And it's not a morbid album. Like, we are talking about death, and I am only talking about it because I think it's important to talk about.

A. There's definitely an element of liveness that comes through the experience of going to a food court and experiencing an album. Do you want to speak to that and how this changes the way that we receive the album?

J. I often think about the context of listening to music and how much that really flavours and colours our experience. And so I think the first thing for me is that art is ordinary. Like, I can't stress that enough, and I always just come back to the fact that all this art stuff, it's just ordinary, normal things that we need in our lives. And a food court is just a very ordinary place. And then I think on another level that that hectic, busy, messiness of the food court is reflected quite a lot in the sonic layers of the album. Like, it's a pretty hectic, eclectic album. It's got a cohesiveness, but in the same way that a food court's made up of a few different stalls selling different foods that might have nothing to do with each other at all does — they're in the same space, and they're coexisting, and they're telling the same story, really.

I guess the reason I chose Lim Chhour is that there's definitely some kind of personal sentimental connection to the Asian migrant diasporic narrative there, as well as just being a space that I walk into, and I'm like, so much has changed on Karangahape. So much! But Lim Chhour has been there for like over 25 years, maybe more, and it's just retained this solid character throughout. There's something that I respect and admire about that so much. And then to activate that space and pay tribute to that space through what I do - that's kind of at the heart of this.

A. Every time I go to a gig on K Road, I always find myself going to Lim Chhour. If these venues are the heart of K Road, then I definitely feel like Lim Chhour is definitely the kitchen.

J. And it's like cheap and cheerful. We all enjoy being well fed and not paying a lot of money. There's a pragmatic side to it.

A. You describe yourself as a garage pop artist. Where do you feel like that fits in the context of the New Zealand music landscape?

J. I've only really considered that term just for myself, and I think it's because most of my music has been recorded, mixed and produced in my converted garage. My partner and I have this double garage where half is her workshop and design space, and half is my music recording space, and there's nice rugs and fairy lights and coffee sacks on the ceiling, and it's real cozy and correct for us. So that's the garage side of things. Pop? I think I do love experimental music and alternative music, and I think I do exist within that sphere quite naturally, but there's always a pop sensibility to how I write. Like, there'll be moments where I want to alienate and polarise and really have a conversation, move people in that way. But I think at heart, there's a lot of pop sensibility there, maybe in the same way that Radiohead for me is just great pop songs underneath all the textures and stuff — this still wants to be heard. It just wants to reframe a lot of the stuff around what's considered pop. So garage pop, it's like, I think the two together — they sort of enhance each other. Together, it's kind of gritty and ambiguous. It's spatial. It's also probably accessible in a way that isn't compromising.

A. Are there any other collaborators on the album?

J. A tonne bro! It's like a full team.

Goodspace sort of existed as a four-piece and a three-piece band in the years gone by — Lloyd Thomason, Jamie Martel, Callum Lee and Nick Annear. There are a few names that played on the record, and a few of the songs are funded by New Zealand on Air. So we were at Roundhead for a few, Lab Studios and Mother's Room, which is Callum’s studio. When I listen to the album, sometimes all I hear is friends just hanging out with me and doing stuff. So definitely a very collaborative approach.

A. What does collaboration bring out in you as a musician?

J. Well you make all this art, and you go through this pretty convoluted trajectory of self discovery and discovering all sorts of different mediums and artworks… But for me, it all just comes back to friendship. And so collaborating with people is just the natural expression of how I understand the importance of making art. I want to collaborate with other people because it brings out new things that I could never do by myself. But it also fully acknowledges how friendship is just making art. Where do you sit within that?

A. A lot of my art is collaborative as well, and I'm always trying to find new ways of collaborating. More recently, some of my songwriting has been a lot more collaborative, whereas before, I usually came to my producer with a song that was fully formed. But now we’re sitting down with other writers and feeding into an idea and seeing where that takes us. There’s something exciting about it.

J. Yeah, it's totally exciting. And just to add - I think that it's also very like, solo, personal — this process needs isolation as well. I just think that there's two truths there that coexist for me — that yes, it's a solo journey of self discovery, and it's all about friendship at the same time. And I don't think those two preclude each other in any way. You hold both of those truths at the same time in the same space, and they give voice when and where they need to.

A. How is this project different to your previous releases?

J. It's the first full length album. It's 10 tracks. So I think that is like a full body of work.

I think this is probably the Goodspace vision and sound that I've had for many years now, in terms of actually realising it and bringing it to life. There's an extra level of significance to it. The past two EPs, I'm still very proud of, but they're more significant to me as memoirs of the time and space we were in as a collective, as Goodspace. But this really feels like a landmark to me. I feel like I've finally caught up to what I've always dreamt of artistically and conceptually. But I'm also very eager to get it out and move on to new stuff.

A. How long have you been working on this project now?

J. This album in particular? Two to three years, I'd say! The first songs would have been written two or three years ago — there were lots of peaks and valleys, I guess. I really let things sit, almost forgot about things, and then realised that if I don't release the album this year, it's going to be tired. We'll be dead, and it'll all be a waste!

A. Who is your biggest inspiration right now?

J. I'm gonna start with the people that I work closely with, and I'd say that my homie, Quentin Lind, is one of my biggest inspirations, and the person I've worked most closely with for the past couple of years. He can just do everything. I recently put out a music video for You Only Give What You Leave, and he filmed, edited and directed all of that. He's constantly just willingly making artwork for me and printing stickers and coming up with ideas and telling me to do more research and shit where I really should just do my homework and stuff. And he's just the most fantastic friend and collaborator.

And then maybe, if I'm going to answer that question from a slightly different angle, I really love JPEGMAFIA, as an artist that I haven't met yet. I just love the organic messiness of his work where it sounds like how tree roots grow. Do you know what I mean? They just find a way through whatever conditions they're in. And it's hectic, it's everywhere, but you believe in it, you understand it… that's just what it is. That’s what I want for my music as well. I think my moments of artistic success are where I've been able to capture something like that. So yeah — Quentin Lind, and Peggy! One is not like hyper local. One's my flatmate.

A. What is it that you love about Auckland? What do you love about the Auckland music scene, and what are your hopes and dreams for the local music community?

J. My love for Auckland partly comes from my attitude, where I really love to work with what I have. I love being resourceful. I've always kind of grown up frugal and resourceful and tried to get the most out of the least. Within any city, there's always setbacks, and I think I've just developed a relationship where any kind of hurdle or setback actually just becomes a source of intrigue and excitement for me. So I think that's partly like something that I've created for myself for why I love Auckland.

I guess the other thing is that my closest friends and collaborators have a similar version of that relationship to the city, and when we get together, we get excited about this thing that we can't quite put a finger on yet, but we all want to build towards it. I do it for myself, of course, first and foremost, making art. but I want to do it for this city as well. I think this city is a fertile ground, and it’s unassuming in unexpected ways. That leads on to the dream where anyone's success is everyone's success! Like, if my homie wins, that's a win for me! That extends beyond the arts. Sure it's utopian, but I am an optimistic guy, and there’s a good level of realism there. From the glimpses I see working with my closest friends in art, that kind of community where anyone's success is everyone's success is possible!

A. You're giving me hope!

What is one local artist that keeps you excited about the local art scene? Is there anyone who does something and your response is “fuck, they do cool shit!”?

J. There's a writer, Oscar Mardell. He’s a close friend. I'd say currently, he is inspiring me a lot. He's been working on this incredibly cooked essay, which is more footnotes than body. That's the running joke with it. I don't want to give away too much, in case I sort of spill the beans, but it's a piece about New Lynn out in West Auckland, and it's just the funniest, most cooked, most absurdly well-researched piece about something that some people may never even think to care about. That's something I love — the absurdity, the kind of humour of going all in on something that almost means nothing to a lot of people. So yeah, Oscar Mardell is a local writer that I really love at the moment.

A. That sounds pretty mean! Now I really need to read that essay!

The last question then is what do you want people to get out of this? The food court, the album and Goodspace?

J. That’s a tricky one, because it's so multifaceted. Like this installation contains immersive theatre elements and sculptural elements. There's a video work in there. There's a lot of very detailed set design. And then, of course, it's music as well. And then it's also narratives around food and migrant stories and hustle culture. I haven't thought too much about actually curating what I want people to get out of it. I've sort of just thrown out the line, like a whole bunch of different entry points, and I’m confident that people will find their own way through. It is an album release at the end of the day. I really want people to meet the album halfway, because I think it is an album that requires you to do a bit of work. I think there are a few songs in there that you put on and half listen to and still enjoy and get a sensation or a feeling from. But to have people really listen to the lyrics and then hear the different tensions that I've tried to create between, say, the lyrics and instrumentation, or certain textures and certain ways of emphasising things. I really want someone to come up to me and tell me how they interpreted the music, or the whole experience of the album and the installation. I don't want them to interpret it in a certain way. I just want them to interpret it and froth a little bit to me about what it means to them, because it might mean something that I've never even thought of. I want it to become their album.

A. Is there anything else you want to plug?

J. I mean, it's just a shout out to all the people on the team, right? So yeah, a shout out to them. Give them all the work, everyone. Hire them. Employ them.

Vendor runs from 28 September - 4 October at Lim Chhour Food Court, Karangahape Road.

CREATIVES
Creative Direction: Jefferson Chen
AV Design: Kyung Ho Min
Visual Design: Darryl Chin
Spatial Design & Build: Mathilde Polmard
Set Dressing: Kristin Li
Set Build & Activation Design: Quentin Lind
Creative Writing: Jennifer Cheuk
Videography: Heidi Watson
PR & Marketing: Samantha Cheong
Producer: Pennie Chang

Image credit Quentin Lind