On Dziré
Or, How To Make Naive Investments And Build Cultural Capital.
I have made some mistakes in the past, quite sure I’ll make some more, as well. There have been times in past relationships where I’ve royally fucked up and subsequently been dressed down for being the inconsiderate, naive and emotionally sterile young adult I was. Every now and again this would send me into a spiral of self-pity - the kind where you’re howling through an ugly cry - it’s gross, unhelpful and ultimately worth growing out of. The best way to deal with these kinds of emotional wounds is with fire; cauterise that nonsense and don the badge of the bold and emotionally intelligent. Like the primary schooler with a gold star, except you’re 27 and taking responsibility for your bullshit.
Belong by Dziré is this kind of fire. I found this song in the Australian Music Scene’s Spotify playlist, amongst the heaving waves of singles that are submitted each week. This song rocked over me like a bushfire: wafts of a darker mood are sensed lightly at first (who’s smells smoke?) before you’re wet, fully clothed and dancing across the tin roof in a mad delusion you can hold back the fiery tornado - Here comes Dziré!
Man, Dziré has this huge voice and howls “BELONG” over big splashy drums, it’s haunting and painful and liberating and sets you up to analyse all those choices you made that found you in bad relationships. Think Marianne Faithful fronting The National, think The National circa The Boxer - that doom and foreshadowing of Fake Empire with Marianne’s post-heroine and post-jagger resonances emanating from this Australian woman. Bam, that’s Belong.
I dug in and asked the internet for help, turns out she’s a bedroom floor artist - fuckin’ what? But of course - Your Bedroom - the safest, the most-hallowed ground for the ugliest crying you can afford yourself. No wonder she can produce such power, it’s the space where you can let it all hang out, draw on the pain of your ancestors while wearing the most frayed pair of nickers you fail to throw out. All the genetic memories and sartorial neglect - “I THOUGHT WE BELONGED TOGETHER!”
So then I ask the internet for more, I find that this Belong single is running out front of an EP: Rectify - It’s little weird at first, Australian underground music always is. Synth horns, squeals, sub-bass, programmed drums, pizzicato strings, screams and Dziré hollering “GOTTA RECTIFY!”. She’s downright furious and it fuckin’ rocks - if you don’t cauterise she’s gonna castrate. As the title track for the EP, that crown she’s wearing on the EP cover was obviously won via the bloodiest of wars (Maybe that’s why she’s not wearing a shirt? Maybe that’s soaking in the laundry? Maybe the sartorial neglect was premature?)
Now, it doesn’t get any easier. This EP descends into indie-rave as you get to the end of Moment Of Silence before Dziré then expounds over the top of the plaintive piano of Tropical Sin - which also bumps up into some indie-rock jaunt. It’s slightly jarring but it’s no less compelling, Dziré. Have you listened to Marianne Faithful’s 1979 record Broken English? Rectify is kind of like that, New Wave with weird angles and dark hues, you get me? Broken English kicks out with some tight New Wave rock, which was fresh and exciting for 1979 but when you get to The Ballad of Lucy Jordan, you get jerked out, your face scrunches and you find yourself asking “Fuck me, Maz, is this a sea shanty?!” - Island Records chose this sea shanty to be a single - weird, right? But if the almighty NME would go on to have this album included in their highly contentious 500 Greatest Albums of All Time, then weird pays dividends in the long term.
Don’t turn to Dziré for consistency in sound or style, turn to Dziré for catharsis, for a voice that won’t quit. Return to Dziré for cred when you know someone that needs the strength of their ancestors - spill your blood, invest in heartache get the dividend of an NME accolade.
On Dziré’s Rectify, or How To Make Naive Investments And Build Cultural Capital.