The Checks

Nominated for the New Zealand Artist of the Year Award

The road from the squeaky-clean world of the Barbershop quartet to the gravel-throated, primal howl of the blues is perhaps one less travelled, but it's what's led scarily-young Auckland, NZ five-piece The Checks to the precipice of success in 2007.

Since forming at the grand age of fifteen (they all hover between nineteen and twenty now), the band have had a meteoric rise in their native New Zealand, their bluesy, age-defying garage rock racket winning them fans as illustrious as REM’s Michael Stipe and bagging them a 2005 New Zealand Music Award after just one 7” single. The Checks’ sound, however - spinehair-tingling, raucous, riff soaked rock n’ roll - is a product of the modern world.

“Some of us have known each other since we were five years old,” says vocalist Ed Knowles, “We grew up in the same neighborhood, playing cricket together. But the band only started to happen when we were fifteen, and we all got into music through the school choir. You know how in every school there’s that little clique of music people? That was what we were like. Then we got Jacob (2005’s New Zealand National Men’s Barbershop quartet champion, no less) in on drums around the start of 2003, and a few punch-ups later, The Checks were formed. We started off doing covers in front of our school, you know; playing  ‘Twist And Shout’ to your mates for the fiftieth time, then got our first proper gig at someone’s 21st when we were fifteen.”

We busked outside the supermarket for 15 minutes, earned 40 bucks and bought a bottle of whiskey before the gig”, says Jabob. “It made for an eventful night…”.

Yet from such humble beginnings, The Checks blossomed. Co-erced into writing an original song for a local talent show, the band came up with ‘The Creek’ - which appears as a b-side on debut single ‘Hunting Whales’ - and things progressed from there.

“When we were growing up,” says Sven, “We had a lot of exposure to our parents’ record collections, and so in a way, we were born into the blues, you know? It’s a timeless genre of music, it’s something you can’t deny. It comes in and out of fashion, but it’s always there. I guess that’s why our songs sound the way they do.”

 It was one song in particular that pricked the ear of Michael Stipe and led him to invite the band along as support on REM’s tour of New Zealand in 2005. After hearing a demo of the stomping, CCR-esque ‘Tired From Sleeping’ on a CD given away with a magazine, Stipe got in touch with the band, one thing led to another, and before they knew it, aged just 18, The Checks were supporting one of the biggest bands in the world.

By now suspecting that they were headed for bigger and better things than, as Jacob says, “Touring up and down New Zealand for ten years and getting nowhere”, the band sought ways to break out of the country’s thriving-but-isolated music scene. Their break came when NME editor Conor McNicholas, on holiday in Auckland, spotted a venue queue snaking round the block for a band he’d never heard of and decided to see what all the fuss was about. Suitably wowed by the band’s now-legendary live show, he offered the band a spot on the 2005 NME New Music  tour, giving The Checks the chance they craved to have their music heard outside their native land.

 “That was an incredible opportunity,” says Jacob, “Because it gave us the chance to get out of New Zealand. Conor literally just came up to us and told us he wanted to put the band on the tour, we were all so taken aback. It meant an awful lot to us, and we learned a lot on that tour. Obviously, it helped us in a lot of other ways, too. It got us our record deal, and it made us decide to move to London.”

Relocating to a four-bedroomed flat in the capital’s Kilburn area  - “It’s a very Monkee-like existence,” Sven quips - the band set about writing and recording their debut album, the fruits of which you now hold in your hands. Produced by Ian Broudie (The Coral, The Zutons, Echo & The Bunnymen), ‘Hunting Whales’ is one of the great debut records of the year, a spit n’ sawdust rock n’ roll record that’s bursting at the seams with songs to send you bare-chested and wild.

“I’ve always been infatuated by Whales,” Ed says of the album’s title. “it’s a metaphor which recognises the ambiguities of love – the contradictory impulses - one to conquer, and one to protect”.

 “For me they hold a sense of power, mystery and being unrestrained. Hunting Whales is a metaphor for someone hunting love and the rage he feels at trying to tame or capture what he cannot control. The thing is, capturing these ‘Whales’ is useless because they can’t be tamed, or made to yield. Emotions like love only come around naturally and at unexpected times.”

 Opening with the Stax-y blues-soul groove of ‘Mercedes Children’ - “About how the perceptions of the world are passed through generations from parents to children,” according to Ed - it’s a thrilling, breathless introduction that wouldn’t sound out of place on an early Led Zeppelin record. The swampy, beer-sodden stomp of ‘What You Heard’ follows, a raucous, downright-filthy slice of Delta-rock chaos that the band liken to “A clean five in the guts”.

Then there’s the title track, and first single; a three-minute monster of (if you’ll pardon the pun) leviathan proportions, it’s built on anvil-heavy riffage and the kind of primordial blues howling normally associated with 90 year old men called things like Whistlin’ Blind Canteloupe, and is snarling, ferocious perfection.

Taking it down a notch, the slow burning, “Anti-boredom protest” ‘Tired From Sleeping’ affords the album its most effortlessly anthemic moment, a lighters-aloft festival favourite in waiting, while its woozily-stoned acoustic counterpart ‘Where Has She Gone?’ evokes the classic songwriting spirit of early 70’s Neil Young. The shuffly beat-pop gem ‘Terribly Easy’  - “About what would happen if someone totally rejected the idea of love from their life,“ says Ed - showcases the band’s more traditionally melodic side, a psychedelic swirl of deadpan Ray Davies vocals  and summery harmonies.

The album closes with the gorgeous ‘Memory Walking’, a slowburning, bordering-on-sweet, jazzy blues ballad that Ed describes as, “A song of someone longing to be closer to someone else. The character is remembering all the little characteristics of the other person, but it hurts at the same time because he can’t share them with her.” Heartbreaking and beguiling at the same time, it’s the perfect end to the record.

“We’d never heard of Ian Broudie or The Lightning Seeds before,” says Callum. “He was somebody the record company suggested to us. When we sat down to talk to him though, he made a lot of sense. He didn’t want to mess around with our sound too much, he just wanted to capture the band as we sound live. A good producer doesn’t make a record; a good producer doesn’t ruin a record, and Ian surpassed all our expectations.”
   
The sky is now the limit for The Checks; still frightfully young and already one of the hottest live bands around with a fantastic debut album up their sleeves, you could almost forgive them a touch of arrogance. Yet the band remain ever-humble about their ambitions.

“We’re not interested in being huge rock stars and making a bazillion dollars,” laughs Jacob, “We had a great time making the record and we’re very proud of it. It’d be nice if it could connect with people on some kind of level.”
   
The time for that will come with the album’s release in August. Right now, however, you’d do well to catch The Checks’ swirling, swamp-blues howl from the belly of the beast before the rest of the world latches on.