When I first listened to Submarine Bells in response to a reader’s suggestion earlier this year, I was suitably impressed by the melodies, lyrics, and arrangements, and immediately added the album to my future reviews list. Before that, I had no idea The Chills even existed, which made sense because I was nine years old when they made their presence known in the USA.

One of the first things I do when reviewing an artist I’m not familiar with is to check their Wikipedia page to get a general idea of their trajectory and any hints of controversy that might eliminate them from consideration (racism, sexism, Trumpism, etc.). When I reached the bottom of The Chills’ page, I took one look at the band membership timeline and  . . . holy fuck, Batman!

Songwriter, guitarist, and lead singer Martin Phillipps was the only constant, but there are empty spaces in the timeline indicating that The Chills went on hiatus more than once. I was particularly surprised that two band members (Andy Todd and Justin Harwood) left shortly after Submarine Bells drew plenty of attention worldwide. I mean, who the hell leaves a band immediately after the breakthrough album? Knowing I had a shitload of work waiting for me at the EU, I immediately slammed on the brakes on The Chills until I could find time to unravel the mystery behind all those comings and goings.

A few days after leaving my job last month and returning to self-employment, I began my research and discovered two competing theories as to why The Chills sifted through thirty-three band members over the years.

Theory #1: The Curse

The band seemed perpetually poised on the edge of international acclaim, but obstacles always seemed to arise. Fittingly, the title of a new documentary on the band, directed by Rob Curry, is taken from an oft-repeated headline from a New Zealand tabloid: The Curse of the Chills.

Sitting in their parents’ living room, the site of much of the documentary, Phillipps and his sister Rachel (who started playing keyboards in the band at age 14, even though their parents worried the band distracted from her schoolwork) debate the origin of the “curse”: Martin says it first came about after a “weird debacle” when the band missed an awards ceremony in Wellington, New Zealand, allegedly due to a nautical mishap involving a yacht (not theirs) and a whale. But that was just one incident among many. Though plenty of talented musicians other than Phillipps have contributed to their sound, the band has had serious personnel retention issues. When they swept New Zealand awards ceremonies for their 1990 record Submarine Bells, Phillipps said, “I’d like to thank the Chills—all 17 of them.” (Amy Benfer, “A Cure for the Curse of the Chills,” Bandcamp Daily).

Here are a few more incidents cited as evidence of the curse.

• Martyn Bull, their second drummer, was diagnosed with leukemia and died shortly after joining the band in 1983.
• Sometime during their formative years in the early 80s, the band was involved in a serious car crash that nearly killed tour manager and sound engineer Doug Hood.
• From Wikipedia: “The curse struck again with the recording of their fourth studio album Sunburnt in England, during August to September 1995. Two band members were refused entry into the UK, so Phillips recruited session musicians, Dave Mattacks (of Fairport Convention) and Dave Gregory (of XTC), who provided drums and bass guitar respectively.” That Martin Phillipps could attract two top-tier musicians on short notice is testimony to the respect he had earned in professional music circles for his songwriting, and made the endless departures all the more puzzling.
• After the failure of Sunburnt, Martin Phillipps disbanded the group and entered a period of depression where he combined alcohol abuse with  an addiction to a “heroin-like substance,” contracting Hepatitis C from a dirty needle in the process.

Theory #2: The Challenge of Working with a Stubborn Artist

The Curse of the Chills is only available for viewing in New Zealand and Australia, but luckily for me, a second documentary, The Chills: The Triumph and Tragedy of Martin Phillipps, is available on Apple TV in several countries. The documentary makes it clear that the revolving door had nothing to do with a jinx and everything to do with a leader who refused to compromise his creative vision in any way, leaving his bandmates feeling disposable and replaceable. Martin Phillipps was a great songwriter, but in his role as band leader, he left much to be desired. The Guardian’s obituary on Martin identified the lack of group cohesion, its cause and its consequences.

The arrival of punk rock spurred Phillipps to form his first band, the Same, in 1978. They disbanded two years later and he determined that his new band, the Chills, would essentially be his solo project . . .

Phillipps’ insistence that the Chills would perform only his songs, his way, caused friction and the band continued to experience a high turnover of musicians. Signing to the US label Slash Records ensured that the financial and promotional muscle needed to break through to a wide audience was finally behind the Chills and in 1990 their Submarine Bells was one of the most enthusiastically reviewed albums of the year. It topped the New Zealand charts and the band won both best local album and best single (for “Heavenly Pop Hit”) at that year’s New Zealand music awards – yet, sales-wise, Submarine Bells underperformed internationally.

The Chills’ 1992 album Soft Bomb was essentially Phillipps solo, recorded in California with contributions from US musicians – including the songwriter and arranger Van Dyke Parks. But as the Chills began a US promotional tour, Slash Records cancelled the band’s contract and tour support due to poor sales.

Martin explained his approach to leadership in the documentary. “I have my own sort of language, I have quite clear visions in terms of what I want, but I don’t have the musical repertoire or language to convey a lot of that. I mean, it’s much more fun working as a team on anything. But you know, I’m not gonna sacrifice the quality for just a bit of team spirit.” Ouch! The reasons Harwood and Todd left after the breakthrough can be traced back to Martin’s inability to grasp the importance of validating individual contributions to the music. Justin Harwood split because he didn’t want to play in a backup band. Andy Todd’s departure made no sense given his ability to convey exactly what Martin wanted. Harwood remembered, “Recording Submarine Bells, Marty always wanted to go into these beautifully constructed pop arrangements. So I think Andy might have been the key to where Marty wanted to go. Andy was very good at articulating Martin’s idea on the keyboard. Martin wrote ‘Submarine Bells,’ but Andy sort of turned it into this symphony.” Toward the end of that passage in the documentary,  Harwood explained that Andy left “because he wasn’t getting anything emotionally back.” As Graham Reid commented in an interview with Martin on Elsewhere, “Phillipps has a blind spot he finds hard to acknowledge. He concedes his own performances ‘go up and down – but I’m always trying my best’ without accepting readily that others may also be trying equally hard. ‘It was their job; they should try,’ he says.” In the same piece, bassist Terry Moore nailed the fundamental problem: “‘Martin doesn’t have enough empathy for the people he works with,’ says bassist Moore, who has worked closely with Phillips through the band’s 12-year career.”

Conclusion

Stubborn artists can indeed be difficult to work with, but without them we would be bereft of masterpieces in every form of art. When a true artist locks into a vision of what they want to create, compromising that vision is out of the question. Unlike Michelangelo, who got so pissed off with his assistants that he fired them all and locked himself in the Sistine Chapel to finish the work alone, Martin admitted that he lacked “the musical repertoire or language” to convey his vision and needed others to complete the work. What’s missing in Martin’s story is a mentor he fully respected who could have told him, “If you want the best out of the band, you must stop treating your mates as wage slaves and think of them as partners doing their best to help you realize your dream. A little kindness and encouragement goes a long, long way.” Martin is said to have been more empathetic with the final Chills lineup that lasted much longer than any of the earlier versions, releasing three critically acclaimed studio albums in the period covering 2015-2021 that did quite well on the New Zealand charts . . . and nowhere else. The nineteen-year gap between studio albums pretty much ended any chance of renewed international success.

Though he managed to kick the drug habit and stay away from the booze, the damage to his veins and liver finally caught up with Martin, and he died in July 2024. Yes, there were many tragedies and mishaps in The Chills’ history, but the documentary also reminds us of the triumphs. Martin and The Chills were key contributors to the Dunedin sound, a fresh perspective on rock music centered around the South Island city of Dunedin with its thriving college student population and art scene. Most importantly, Martin will be remembered as a great songwriter, and he felt that Submarine Bells represented a major step forward in his songwriting abilities. “I wanted to have some of the dark side of some of the art I do, and I do admit that these are a wee bit, kind of, sacrilegious or something. Submarine Bells was the first album where everything I had been writing was aimed at that, and I was starting to venture into much bigger material.” When asked his opinion of Submarine Bells, Neil Finn of Split Enz responded, “That album was sensational, very evocative, a writer at the height of his powers.” Submarine Bells is a surprisingly diverse album with songs that fall into a variety of genres: pop, punk, melodic rock and progressive rock. The topics Martin chose to write about are equally varied, and his poetry is full of vivid imagery and creative metaphors.

One more thing I need to mention before we delve into the album involves something I noticed in reading several interviews Martin gave over the years. While Martin could get cold and distant when he felt his mates weren’t giving it their all, he could be just as hard on himself. “Yet for all the allusion and illusion at the heart of Phillipps’ words and sound, he has always been a brutally honest, insightful and articulate appraiser of his own music and the world around it, often puncturing the myth that music writers and fans tried to build around him with soul-bearing truth.” (Andrew Smith on Audioculture). Most songwriters play coy with music journalists when asked about the source or meaning of a song, but Martin played it straight (and made my job a whole lot easier). If available, I’ll open the presentation of each song with Martin’s commentary. Kudos to Dean Goodman, who archived a Twitter chat where Martin shared his thoughts on the songs “for the benefit of future generations.”

All songs written by Martin Phillipps.

“Heavenly Pop Hit”: From Double J: “Some people thought it was a tongue-in-cheek song, but it really was a song about exuberance and feeling great and the power of melodic rock to lift you up and take you places and transform your life. It is filled with all sorts of fanciful imagery.”

With our world on the brink of disaster, I changed my wake-up music to “Heavenly Pop Hit” a couple of weeks ago, and instead of the grumpy bitch who usually awakens in a state of anxiety, I feel positively exuberant!

The song opens with a 3-bar intro beginning with a bright organ riff from Andy Todd, immediately enhanced with a quick build from the rhythm section of Justin Harwood on bass and James Stephenson on drums. The additional reverb on the organ reminded me of ecclesiastical music, but just to make sure that my ears were functioning, I searched the web for validation and found it in Tom Muscarella’s take on Rock ‘n’ Roll Remnants. “The song opens with a splashy organ riff that sounds like it was recorded in an underwater church.”

Welcome to the Holy Church of Melodic Rock!

The Chills wasted no time getting to the heart of things, as Martin begins his vocal at the start of the fourth bar. The desire to get on with it turns out to be a brilliant compositional decision, as there are no breaks between the verses and the bridge. The continuity keeps the beautiful melody flowing and imbues the song with undeniable happiness, while Martin’s excellent phrasing and breath control ensure that the lyrics remain completely understandable.

The song is certainly joyful, but also carries a serious message that applies to our current reality. Basically, the song is about navigating through dark times and awakening to a brighter future. The dark time Martin might have been referring to was the nuclear brinkmanship of the Reagan era, which rattled nerves all over the planet.

Each evening the sun sets in five billion places
Seen by ten billion eyes set in five billion faces
Then they close in a daze and wait for the dawning
But the daylight and sunrise are brighter in our eyes
Where night cannot devour golden solar power

Once we were damned, now I guess we are angels
For we passed through the dark and eluded the dangers
Then awoke with a start to startling changes
All the tension is ended, the sentence suspended
And darkness now sparkles and gleams

(Bridge) And it all seems larger than life to me
I find it rather hard to believe

And so I stand and the sound goes straight through my body
I’m so bloated up, happy, I can throw things around me
And I’m growing in stages and have been for ages
Just singing and floating and free

Reagan finally got off his high horse and started negotiations with Gorbachev, but after his despicable rant at the U.N., I doubt that the current occupant of the White House will follow his lead. We still have a long way to go before “All the tension is ended, the sentence suspended/And darkness now sparkles and gleams.”

The verses follow a pleasant chord progression of C-Am-F-G in the first three lines, then Martin makes things more interesting in the last three lines by shifting to Am-D-G-E-F-G, which combines tension with resolution. The bridge employs a complementary pattern of Am-C-F-G that resolves back to the root C chord in the verses. So far, so good, but it’s in the chorus where Martin achieved his goal: “I truly wanted to create something beautiful and too powerful to be written off as lightweight pop.” (Goodman) The line “Just singing and floating and free” turns out to be an introduction to the chorus, where Dons Savage of Dead Famous People employs her beautiful voice to team up with Martin’s, creating a gorgeous vocal collage celebrating melody and the sheer joy of engaging in song. The transition involves a key change and a chord pattern of D-Am-F-G with a shift to C-D-G for the spoken lines, eventually resolving back to the no-pauses-necessary verse pattern. Compositional excellence!

Oh (Dum dum, da de da da)
Dum de dum dum, dum de dum dum
It’s a heavenly pop hit if anyone wants it
Oh (Dum dum, da de da da)
Dum de dum dum, dum de dum dum
It’s a heavenly pop hit
It’s something that we’re humming as we . . .

As I could listen to Dons’ voice forever, I was delighted that she continues to provide wordless background vocals in the truncated verse, strategically dropping out of the soundscape when Martin sings “hover silent.” I had to laugh at his recommendation concerning the sun, and I was inspired by his insistence that we should all try to expand our horizons. And yes! Another round of the chorus!

. . . Swoop low on trees or we sweep under carpets
We can dive into suns, though it’s not recommended
We can hover silent and listen closely

It all seems larger than life to me
I find it hard to believe

So where was our home, well, our home was in tears
For its fruit had gone bad, they’d been that way for years
Yet their lives are elastic, they should be fantastic
They should be expanding

Oh (Dum dum, da de da da)
Dum de dum dum, dum de dum dum
It’s a heavenly pop hit if anyone wants it
Oh (Dum dum, da de da da)
Dum de dum dum, dum de dum dum
It’s a heavenly pop hit for anybody
Oh, for those that still want it

The song ends with a slowing of the tempo as Martin sings the closing line, indicating it’s time for beddy-bye and renewal.

The video for the song is suitably playful and energetic. I assumed that it was shot somewhere around Dunedin, but after taking in the scenery for a minute, I thought, “Hold on—I know this place! I’ve been there!” It turns out I have a keen eye for landscapes. From Brian Kelly’s interview with Martin on The Thin Air:

• Kelly: The video for Heavenly Pop Hit was made in Ireland (which I hadn’t known, and as soon as someone told me it suddenly couldn’t have looked MORE like Ireland). What led to that coming about?
• Martin: The band were rehearsing for the 1990 Submarine Bells world tour at Kelly’s in Portrush, Ireland, and we had to make a video for Heavenly Pop Hit. We had hoped to make the video in NZ but instead opted for the most NZ-like landscapes the location scouts could find.

The video was shot in County Donegal, a site I wrote about extensively in my review of Enya’s Watermark. Rumor has it that while filming, Martin almost got swept away by a wave. Yep, that’s the place!

“Tied Up In Chain”: “About the rise of nationalism and fascism and the band’s visit to Dachau in 1987. One of my songs that went through many changes of lyrical direction before settling on a final theme.” (Goodman)  “That’s basically about skinheads, specifically, people who were living out a fashion, a very dark one, where they are generally not aware of why they’re doing it, what the roots of it are. Going to Dachau was such a moving, powerful experience you wish you could take every skinhead in the world to Dachau.” (Jason Cohen Alive in the Nineties)

Sigh . . . another song relevant to our realities today . . . more about that later.

The song opens in the key of D with Andy playing piano arpeggios to a pattern of D-G-D-A, but after two bars The Chills do a quick switcheroo to a driving beat, following a chord pattern of B-E that is repeated in the opening verse lines before closing on an A-E sequence; the chorus uses the same pattern but closes with A-F#. Martin modulates his vocals with aplomb, singing in his regular voice in the verse as he bashes the skinheads, then muffles his voice in the chorus to convey his disgust with “chains that appear to change” but are actually examples of history repeating itself: the fear and hate that spark the failed philosophy of authoritarianism.

Verse: I’m sick of the sight of those children of gloom
And those there spouting speeches
All their talk in speech balloons
You know, I’d like to educate them
Though I don’t suppose they’d care
To dig around the roots that grew from their boots, salutes and hair

Chorus: They’re here to stay in this crooked game
And they’re expecting to play for no return
So soon they learn for all their pain
They’re tied up in chains that appear to change

The next verse tackles a trend that has repeated itself through history and always ends badly: the rise of the charismatic narcissist who suckers people into believing he has all the answers to all our problems.

We feel we must be others and that this is more than that
If egos are inflated, they can crush a people flat
Once we took a break and stopped and smelt and felt the Dachau air
If I’d thought I had a point I had it strengthened over there

Martin increases the drama in the two-line bridge delivered in a tone of palpable frustration with human stupidity: “So Operation Degradation springs again to action/For that fairy-tale faction and their custom-built crusade.” You can apply those lines to MAGA, the German AfD, U.K. Reform, and the National Rally of France. Fucking idiots, the lot of them.

In the end, Martin identifies parental incompetence as the primary cause of twisted, fucked-up children, much like Andy Partridge did in the song “No Thugs in Our House,” where the clueless parents have no idea the kid is a skinhead.

We’re here to stay in this crooked game
That we’re expected to play for no return
And soon you learn for all your pain
You’re tied up in chains your parents made

As for taking the skinheads to Dachau . . . it may have worked in the 90s, but not in today’s fake-news world. Eisenhower chose to force the German people to walk through the concentration camps and see the unburied bodies, crematoria, and starving survivors because he was concerned that future generations would try to dismiss the atrocities as wartime propaganda. Sure as shit, we are now surrounded by holocaust deniers and their sick agenda.

One last thing before I leave this song . . . as a pianist, I listen very closely to other pianists, and I was completely knocked out by Andy Todd’s ability to provide hot counterpoints while playing a key role in driving the rhythm. Many pianists excel in one or the other, but Andy had the capacity to do it all. Bravo!

“The Oncoming Day”: “If the lyrics are personal then I don’t want them to be out in the open too much. The people who know what they are from the record can appreciate them. It’s the melody and the rhythm that tends to come across live anyway. ‘Oncoming Day’ is a good example because even though the images are quite beautiful, it’s kind of a teenage, angst-ridden song, from 1982 I think, about an inability to express myself properly. Now I’ve heard so many other songs saying the same thing I’ll never write one like that again! It’s also a very difficult song to play–it has a triple kick-drum beat; only two or three of the Chills’ drummers have ever been able to play it. It’s a machine-song, a real motorised sound that also needs the delicacy to build slowly, notching up a bit at a time.” (Hearsay Magazine U.K)

I will make one small correction to Martin’s explanation and describe “The Oncoming Day” as a “submachine-gun” song because Stephenson’s rolls sound like bullets blasting out from a Uzi. The speed, rough guitars and Martin’s sneering vocals are pure punk, which should come as no surprise given Martin’s punk experience with The Same. The arrangement shows no sign of a delicate build, and except for a slight lowering of intensity in the chorus, the band remains in overdrive, bringing back memories of all the bruises I sustained in the mosh pit. From a compositional standpoint, I could make the argument that opening a song with five consecutive verses can get tiresome, but on the flip side, moving up the chorus to break the pattern would have lowered the excitement level too soon.

One thing is for sure: you rarely encounter poetry in punk music with such rich imagery as this:

Over there the row of trees
Is merging in with the evening
And then blackness consumes the forest
Within there lies a glade
And a blackened impression of the love that we made

In the remaining lyrics, Martin depicts himself as a frustrated nihilist with little hope of finding a way to express what is in his heart, so he spends most of the time watching TV and returning to the glade where the couple consummated their relationship. Martin didn’t need to write another song about teenage angst—he nailed it on this one.

“Part Past Part Fiction”: “Once again singing about music being a stronger force than lyrics for conveying emotions. And for yet another lost girlfriend.” (Goodman)

The jangly guitar riff that opens the song establishes the central Dm-F-C-G progression that dominates the song, and the minor key helps convey the mood that one experiences in a faltering relationship. It certainly isn’t unusual for a traveling musician to write sad songs about missing the lover back home, but Martin expands the experience depicted in The Stones’ “Goin Home” to include resentment and loathing of his surroundings.

Sitting in a foreign setting
Bands in backgrounds always play
Their phony lonely cacophony
It didn’t have to be this way

Even if the band was the Beatles giving their final concert on the rooftop, I get the sense that Martin would still resent the “cacophony.”

I really didn’t choose to leave you
To tear myself away so long
To travel and unravel all the fabric we’d sewn
So now something’s wrong
And the world we used to know has gone

The song possesses a melancholic beauty strengthened by background and unison vocals from Andy and Justin. In response to Martin’s palpable tone of frustration, the duo responds with “yeah-yeahs” indicating “you’ve been here before and you’re getting sick and tired of it,” and gentle “oohs” to calm the beast inside. I also love the tonal variety displayed in the guitar parts, varying from jangle to slick picking high on the fretboard. If they had changed the title to the repeated phrase “Some Place Alone” in the chorus, it could have been a hit single. Love it!

“Singing In My Sleep”: “I’ve heard symphonies in my dreams but have always lacked the musical knowledge to drag them into the waking world. I’ve grabbed a few rock riffs though! Just three chords, a beautiful melody and dynamics.” (Goodman)

Martin was spot on about the “beautiful melody and dynamics,” and most of the credit for the dynamic arrangement belongs to Andy Todd’s rhythmic contributions on the synth and his lovely synth arpeggios. The introspective lyrics are equally interesting, describing Martin’s struggle between the ideal world of artistic expression experienced in dreamland and the real world where he had to deal with human beings who just don’t seem to get it. It turns out he was quite aware of his deficiencies as a band leader but uncertain about how to rectify the situation.

Singing in my sleep
A word from the wise for the mindless
Hoping to keep all the silences out of my life

Singing in my sleep
A stinging reproach against violence
Hoping to cope with the pressures of musical life

Changing my values
A leader of people who’re guideless
So doing add to collection
The title of blind leading blind leading blind leading
Blind leading blind leading blind

Dangerous rages and amplified airing of anger
Repression of feelings
Preserved for a later date

One of the aspects I admire most about the way Martin’s mind worked was his expansive worldview, connecting the day-to-day to the larger drama of the human race. While the globalist perspective earned a bad reputation due to the dominance of the billionaires, I get the sense that Martin’s globalist worldview was more aligned with Gene Roddenberry’s humanistic vision of a world that instead of focusing on material wealth, prioritizes bettering oneself and helping others. It’s a dream worth holding onto, but a dream that remains light-years away.

The search for compassion
And attributes found in those younger
Finding, however, unaccountable harrowing hate

Craving reaction
A hideous terminal hunger
Starving for life in a world with so much on its plate

Singing in my sleep
Songs of such beauty and sadness
Earth’s emotions enraptured
But the songs fade away when I wake

Those closing lines have more to do with the quest to create meaningful art than Martin’s lack of musical knowledge. He may not have had the skills to write symphonies, but his musical instincts were top-notch.

“I Soar”: “An attempt at a Ray Bradbury-like story with a ghost’s perspective floating above an abandoned human settlement on another world. The backwards heartbeat percussion was inspired by some Bolivian folk music I heard in the ’80s.” (Goodman)

Yes, Martin was a sci-fi geek, bless his heart. Andy’s superb contributions on the synth, the studio trickery Martin mentioned, and the soft echo attached to Martin’s vocals creates an ethereal weightlessness that syncs beautifully with the lyrics. Though the ghost floating in space may seem like a bit of whimsy, the Bradbury influence tells me that the planet in the song is planet Earth. Much like the writers of Star Trek, Bradbury used settings in outer space to critique the human condition in the present or likely future. Given our failure to eliminate nuclear weapons, deal effectively with climate change, and replace the macho urge to go to war with dialogue and collaboration, our future could very well look like this:

Below me on the land
The tide of silver sand
Stretches at the shade of my hand

An eyesore in the dust
The carcasses of rust
Are laughing at the careless parking

Eye to eye aglow with horizon
Time to fly away for a while
Chase my shadow over the valley below

I soar alone

Our crumbling homes are all overgrown
They’ve gone
I saw them go
I watched them leave, my family have flown

I have to talk to someone
Describe it all the someone
Emotions are imploding but there’s nothing to say
There’s nothing to say
They’ve all gone away
All gone away

And if you don’t believe that could happen to us, you’re one of the billions in denial who will bear the responsibility for making it happen.

“Dead Web”: “Perhaps unfair critique of competitive mourning and histrionics amongst the young when we were dealing with our first peer group deaths. Also an experiment in shifting the same riff through various chord changes. Too many words.” (Goodman)

Yes, it is an unfair critique. It takes time to go through the seven stages of grief, and the process is much more difficult for the young, because they believe death is something that only happens in the distant future. And yes, there are too many words and not enough empathy. Pass!

“Familiarity Breeds Contempt”: “Anger at feeling redundant just when things were getting going for the band. Scorn at new musical styles I had yet to understand — but not a bad rap, though!” (Goodman)

I might agree that it’s not a bad rap . . . if I could hear the lyrics. The mix on this song is bloody awful, and though I’m not a fan of rap, I think the point of the genre is to hear what the rapper is going on about. We’ll let Martin have his bitch session and move on.

“Don’t Be – Memory”: “A plea to the woman I wrote ‘Submarine Bells’ for. Her second song. The concept of becoming just ‘a memory’ taken from a short story The Memory in a 1970 Pogles Annual” (British animated kids’ show). (Goodman)

This lovely bit of melancholy is most notable for its departures from the norm. The chord diagrams on the internet only include the basic chord progression of G-Am-Em-D-F-C-Dm-E-D5, but Andy takes advantage of the ease of employing subtle chord changes on the piano, taking one trip into the blues scale, then augmenting a few chords in the transitional passages to add dissonance that suits the mood of a song about a relationship going through a rocky period. On his part, Martin varies the rhyme patterns from ABAB to AAAA to AAAB, and occasionally strays away from rhyme altogether to emphasize the disconnection:

I would tell you love’s eternal
But eternity is such a long time
Which we both know we won’t handle
With solitude so unattractive . . .

I’ll try to delay this desperate deal
By mailing eight letters that say how I feel
For if you weren’t here
There’d always be clear reminiscence

The most dramatic change involves the dynamic shift to quietude in the choruses, where Martin sings in his most tender voice.

Sensing your presence
Don’t be a stranger
And don’t be – memory

Sensing your essence
So reminiscent
A forgotten flavour
Don’t be – memory

Feeling resented
Unrepresented
Please don’t regret it
And don’t be – memory

Excuse the interruption, but I relate more strongly to the second display. Whenever I have to travel alone, I always bring one of Alicia’s garments because I find her scent endlessly comforting. Unlike Martin’s situation, I know she will be there when I come home, but for him, the memory of his lover’s scent and the taste of her lips may be a bittersweet experience.

“Effloresce and Deliquesce”: “A friend told me his two new favourite words — chemical terms just perfect for a description of a young couple fighting and making up.” (Goodman)

I have no problems with the music, but once again, you have to strain your ears to make out the lyrics. Though some have argued that Gary Davis was a great fit for The Chills, the label wasn’t happy with his work and demanded more focus on the guitars. I suppose they got their wish, but apparently the moguls didn’t give a shit about the low-volume lyrics. When you have a song title consisting of words that only botanists and chemists can make sense of, you really need to clear a space in the soundscape so the average Joe and Jane can appreciate the work Martin put into the lyrics.

Can someone please call Steven Wilson and ask him to devote his magical remastering talents to Submarine Bells? He’d only have to fix two songs, and he could do that in his sleep. This album deserves the best.

The opening passage qualifies as magical, with downward arpeggios on guitar and keyboard that sound like shooting stars if shooting stars could be heard. The segment gives way to the main theme, once again featuring Andy’s marvelous touch on the piano. The shooting stars return between the verses, and as the heat rises in the dialogue, Andy shifts to block chords played with maximum intensity.

The music successfully captures the emotional ups and downs in the story, relegating the narrative to the secondary role of providing the details. Keeping things simple and unscientific, “effloresce” means “to bloom” and “deliquesce” means “to dissolve or melt away.” Martin used those words as metaphors for the ups and downs that occur in most relationships, brilliantly latching on to the tensions and misunderstandings that arise when one party is in bloom and the other is dormant.

Effloresce and deliquesce, carefree sparkling effervesce
Sparks ignite the starry-eyed, soon a supernova

Effloresce and deliquesce
He bursts forth and then regrets
She breaks down and when he goes slowly ices over

When guys are horny, they often assume that the woman is ready to rock. That assumption could lead to date rape, but fortunately the male in this scenario has enough emotional intelligence to back off. After several lines of back and forth, we arrive at a surprisingly happy ending.

Lies are flying
The silence boiled over
Over-reaching

See them trying
Counter-acting changes in each other
Other forces force them higher
Tears are scalding
Anger flows like fire

Effloresce and deliquesce
She burst forth and then regrets
He breaks down and when she goes slowly ices over
Effloresce and deliquesce
He is weary, needing rest
She is too but in an hour they burst into flower

And I hope they have one helluva good time flowering.

“Sweet Times”: “Was originally a Happy Birthday song I wrote for Shayne Carter (Dimmer, Straitjacket Fits, etc.) then I reversed it and approximated the backwards lyrics. Useful on the album as a musical interlude to smooth transition between songs.” (Goodman)

Yep, that’s about it! The break may seem superfluous to some, but in this case it provides a welcome space between two compelling musical compositions.

“Submarine Bells”: “Still my best love song and I have been privileged to sing this with an orchestra. And she still avoids talking with me! Where is the justice . . . ” (Goodman)

The submarine in this song is not a U-boat or even a sandwich. Martin takes us on a trip underwater to make use of metaphors that capture the ever-shifting nature of a relationship. The bells serve as a means of emotional communication between the two lovers.

As noted above, Andy Todd was responsible for the orchestration, and his ability to mimic the cello and complementary strings on synth and keyboard is absolutely stunning. The chord pattern of Eb-Gm-Fm-Bb-Eb-Fm-Ab-Bb is much more suited for the keyboards than the guitar, and the music flows beautifully in a slow tempo throughout the song, loaded with emotive power. Martin’s voice is suitably filtered to sound as if he’s singing underwater, and his sensitive and caring vocals are quite moving.

The lyrics depict a wide range of emotional states: distance, connection, disconnection, wonder and hope.

Snow alights as dark sea grows then
Far below lies softly glowing
Snow turns slowly into water

I know deep down hidden in you submarine bells chime
Golden groaning, sunlit tonic, submerged sound sublime

So the colder, deeper tolling
Reaches dissolution
You wish a vicious whirlpool
Go swirling round and round

I can watch in wonder as your
Gaze shifts past my shoulder, just a
Glimpsed abyss that flashes at me

I know deep down hidden in you submarine bells chime
Golden groaning, sunlit tonic, submerged sound sublime

Since the weakest currents bruise it
Someday I may lose this
Immersed in words and miss you
Kiss foaming waves goodbye

An extended orchestral passage follows those verses, a wondrous display of changing moods ranging from melancholy to hopeful. Though the preceding verse introduces the possibility of loss, Martin refuses to give in to hopelessness, and his passionate closing words bring tears to my eyes.

I slice the surface here beside you
Lungs filled liquid yell I love you
Sound moves further underwater

Deep and dark my submarine bells groan in greens and grey
Mine would chime a thousand times
To make you feel okay
‘Kay …
‘Kay …
Okay

I don’t know why the woman in question rebuffed Martin’s attempt to continue the relationship, but if I had a lover who wrote this song for me, I would swim right over to them and give them a great big hug.

*****

Though the story of The Chills is filled with plenty of what-ifs and coulda-woulda-shoulda moments, Submarine Bells is a timeless masterpiece that should appear on any credible list of the great albums of the ’90s. The delightful diversity of the music, the excellent arrangements, and Martin’s gift for songwriting speak for themselves.

In closing, I would like to share a few quotes from an interview posted on Flicks featuring Julia Parnell, who directed the documentary The Chills: The Triumph and Tragedy of Martin Phillipps, in the hope that those quotes will encourage you to watch the film and get the whole story about Martin and The Chills.

Flicks: How did your initial conversations with him go?

Julia: I had this opportunity to sit with him, I said, ‘I can tell your story in a way that no one else can.’ I did a little bit of filming with him, and it was the first shoot day that he was told he could die in six to eight months if he didn’t change his lifestyle. And that happened very, very early in the process, so that gave it the impetus really, he came home and he said literally, ‘I can’t believe the sum total of my career is to be sitting in Dunedin surrounded by things gathering dust.’

Flicks: Did you find him a very willing interviewee?

Julia: Yes. When Martin Phillipps decided to make this film, he decided to be absolutely honest about everything. Maybe sometimes too honest. Some things I don’t need to hear. And [he wanted to] let whoever I was also going to talk with be honest about their Chills experience. He never vetted that or worried about that. He said: ‘Everyone’s entitled to their opinion and I’m entitled to mine.’  So I think he’s been very brave.

Flicks: What would you like the audience to take away from this film?

Julia: It’s a universal story about mortality and I think to think about the mistakes you make and whether redemption and forgiveness is suitable for them, or anybody. Because Martin Phillipps made some big mistakes in his life. And I think we all have to look at ourselves in the mirror sometimes and that’s what I’ve tried to portray or at least to think about.

It’s a moving story that raised my respect for Martin a hundredfold.