Viewport width =
May 11, 2014 | by  | in Arts Music |
Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

Taste Nasa – No Questions Asked EP

I first heard of Taste Nasa the way one often hears of most New Zealand artists – via a text from a friend, normally along the lines of: “Hey a m8 of mine is playing a gig at [insert tiny bar here] and I need someone to go with. They’re really good I promise!”

I obliged. Mostly because another producer I love was playing and the gig was sponsored by Red Bull.  I got free entry and a free drink, my friend never even made it. Boy did she miss out.

As far as I can tell by his Red Bull profile, Taste Nasa is the brainchild of Leroy Clampitt from Pirongia. Summery NZ feel-goodness permeates his EP, a tiny body of work only four songs long. Every song is quality and single-worthy, however, and it only leaves you wanting more. The yacht-rock influences are heavy, but with so much more disco and funk going on. The entire EP is flawless, from the dulcet piano melodies of ‘Night Guy’ to the bass lines of ‘No Ordinary Touch’.

It’s New Zealand music that actually sounds like it came from someone who knew what they were doing, and I really have so much confidence, if this EP and the commercial sponsorship are anything to go by, that Taste Nasa will last for longer than just a summer.

 

Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

About the Author ()

Comments are closed.

Recent posts

  1. Issue 21, Vol 81: Looking Back
  2. Foraging Video Recipes
  3. 5 TV Shows that *Might* Fool Others into Thinking You’re a History Wunderkid
  4. Books With Protagonists Our Age (That Don’t Suck)
  5. Changing Tides
  6. In Defense of the Shitty Sci-Fi Sequel
  7. Avantdale Bowling Club
  8. Medium Playback
  9. The International Angle
  10. The Poo Review
Website-Cover-Photo7

Editor's Pick

This Ain’t a Scene it’s a Goddamned Arm Wrestle

: Interior – Industrial Soviet Beerhall – Night It was late November and cold as hell when I stumbled into the Zhiguli Beer Hall. I was in Moscow, about to take the trans-Mongolian rail line to Beijing, and after finding someone in my hostel who could speak English, had decided