by Peter McLennan (originally published in Pavement magazine 2001)

Shayne Carter is fiercely protective of his new baby, I Believe You Are A Star, the debut album from his band Dimmer. He won't let the media get their hands on any advance cd's of the album. Some may call this a little bit precious, but he has his reasons.

"I just wanted to keep it quiet. Ah, well, actually, I was secretly ashamed!" he laughs. "I just want to keep it under wraps, so when it comes out, it sounds really fresh."

He makes me sit and listen to it with him in the Sony board room, a rather sterile rectangular box with a well equipped stereo system but no natural light. The whole experience is slightly unnerving. Later, I politely suggest to Shayne that if I'd had an advance copy of the album, I could have listened to it before the interview and been better prepared. "Yeah, you could've asked me some pertinent questions about it, I guess". Hmmm.

It's been a long time since we last heard from the talented Dunedin rock god Mister Carter. His previous group Straitjacket Fits bid farewell in the mid 90's, and there's been a few sporadic singles from Dimmer, and occasional live shows. I put it to Shayne that perhaps people might have forgotten about him?

"Quite possibly yeah," he replies, nonchalantly. However, he doesn't seem, too worried. "I think I've been doing what I felt like I needed to do, really. make a record. I felt it was quite important to come out and make another musical statement; I didn't want the last Straitjackets record to be the last thing I ever did. So, I was working towards that, but as far as being out of the public eye, that doesn't bother me at all."

"It took me a while after the Fits ended to figure out what I wanted to do. I was sick of that format, and playing that kind of music, really. The biggest thing I felt towards the end (of the Straitjacket Fits) was it just felt quite choreographed, and everything is in its place. I was just aching for something that wasn't nailed down to the nth degree like that. So that when I went back to Dunedin. I just jammed for a couple of years, basically. I just got into those really great lost moments of rock, those things that happen in jams that you can't possibly write, you know? You ever heard Derek and Clive, done by Peter Cooke and Dudley Moore? They're totally pissed, and they go into the studio and come out with this completely surreal stuff; if you actually wrote it down and scripted it, it would be completely inane, but it's these guys freewheeling it, and its like a really great jam, it's not stuff you could possibly write, and that's the same way I felt about music, really."

The jamming process had a positive effect on Shayne's song writing, helping him to expand beyond the verse-chorus-verse-chorus regime that had previously constrained him.

"It made me listen to what was happening, as opposed to being a slave to the song. It taught me a lot about musical dynamics and not having to put lots of words in there. I just found playing instrumental based music was quite evocative, and quite up to the listener to make up their mind what it was about. What I initially liked about the dance thing when it first happened, which is quite weird coming from me, I suppose, in that I was put into that position of being the rock star kinda thing, but I really like that ethos where the audience was the star, and that whole socialist principle behind it. You didn't have some buffoon up there dictating what it was all about, you know and giving you your guide for life.

" But then its quite ironic, that the DJ' is now the new rock star, which I think is really stupid. When I was going through that period, doing that free-form jamming, even though I came up with some really beautiful music, and it was really educational, in the end I was quite sick of the vagueness of it all. For all those great lost moments, there were several that deserved to be lost, you know? I eventually came full circle, and thought what I've learnt from that, I can apply to songs as well. I came to the realisation that I'm a guitar player and I can sing, and I can write tunes, and that doesn't necessarily have to be a dreadful thing."

Thankfully, this answer rather neatly saves me from incurring the wrath of Shayne. He'd asked me at the start of the interview, rather pointedly, "You're not going to ask me why the album took so long, are you?" Shayne then joked that he's been meaning to write out a standard answer to that one, photocopy it and hand it out at the start of interviews. His rationale is that journalists pick up on a certain theme, something he's experienced in the past when doing rounds of press. This doesn't change the fact that the album did take him a long time to make. And of course, he's entitled to take as long as he wants, just like any other artist.

Not only was he developing just how he wanted to write music, Shayne was also investigating other ways of recording it too. He decided to take it on board and record it under his own steam, not that far removed from the old four track in the bedroom/church hall ethos that once ruled Dunedin.

He describes the recording process as "torturous, painful, stressful. There's the joy of creating it, and when you come out with a tune that's finished and sounding good, yeah, that's one of the best feelings in the world. Going for that end result that you know is going to be worth it, but there's a fuck of a lot of pain and work actually getting there. Some of those tunes I went to the moon and back with them , before I got them the way I wanted them to be. One aspect I really did enjoy was writing tunes in a studio environment as opposed to a band. I found I could do lots of things with my voice, I could sing really quietly and get a good dynamic happening, all these aspects of my vocals that I'd never really used before. If you feel like you're stuck in one place, well, that's a dreadful feeling. I learned to put a record together, which I'd never done before, producing it. It's fascinating, dealing with sound, what goes where, and all that."

Not only has Carter taken the hands on approach to recording, he's also turned his hand to directing music videos. He helped put together the beautifully stylised clip for Evolution, a take off of Elvis's 1968 stage set, but instead of dozens of lights spelling out Elvis, Carter got them to spell out Dimmer. The video also featured Carter's father, who passed away since the making of the video last year. For his next directorial effort, Carter gets to live out a childhood fantasy.

"I shot a trotting video on Saturday. I got to be a trotting driver at Alexandra Park. I got to loop the field, three wide down the back straight, and I went for gold from the four hundred, flailing away on the rail. Superb, man. I went out for three weeks, training with Barry Purdon, a really sweet guy. He thought it was a hoot; he'd just sit around laughing at me the whole time!

"I was really obsessed with it (trotting) as a kid. I was really fascinated with the numbers beside the horses names, no-one else in my family was into it, so it was just a little freak-boy sideshow kind of thing. My first record was '20 years of NZ Trotting Cups'. That's what I wanted to be when I was a kid; a trotting driver. So, that's the best thing about this business, you know, man. You think 'Oh I've got to make a video, I know what I'll do!' I was 8 years old and wetting my pants again on Saturday, it was great. It's a life highlight, that kind of stuff,. When I draw up the top five, that'll definitely be in there, man. Looping the field at Alexandra Park."

Apart from being able to indulge in childhood trotting fantasies, Shayne has been lucky enough to be able to devote himself full-time to his music, thanks to the support of his record company, who've helped out with recording gear and so on. How does he survive?

"I don't man. I starve, and I really enjoy pumpkin soup, several times a week! No, I've been really broke, man. It's a full-time thing, and hopefully, when this record comes out I can sort out some publishing; that dribbles in, but not enough to sustain me. That's what living in New Zealand is all about, you know. There just isn't the population to support it, basically. You've got to get out into the wider world if you want to do that. I'm really keen to get the record released overseas, and that will reveal itself in the next few months. I'd like to get out there playing again, as well. I'm kinda known in America on a low key level, so it'd be possible to go there and do some gigs.

" I'm happy with the record, as happy as you can be. It's something I can take out there and stand behind. I've got no delusions about selling millions of records. The bottom line is if you want to sell a lot of records, its got to be radio friendly. I don't really concern myself with that stuff, you've just got to make a record that you think is good, and try and keep the faith in other people too."

Shayne chose to put his faith in Sony Music, which may seem surprising, given his past experiences with major labels, when the Fits were signed to US label Arista. However, he had no such qualms about signing on with another major, and putting his head back in the lion's den. Shayne felt comfortable dealing with Sony's A&R Manager, Malcolm Black.

"He's a musician (ex Netherworld Dancing Toys), he's from Dunedin, he's a solid guy, and I respect him. Finding people you feel that way about in the music industry can be quite hard, especially when you've dealt with those over the top Americans who tell you whatever you want to hear. They've been really good, set me up with a studio, left me to it. There was no creative input, and they were quite patient, as I inched my way towards finishing it. The indie/major divide; you know, I think it's kind of irrelevant. Think of how many thousands of good records have come out on major labels, think of how many thousands have come out of indie labels, it doesn't really matter. The truth is in the grooves. I thought Sony were quite good, in that they've got lots of smaller labels round the world. They own half the world, don't they? I thought I'd have a lot more options with that kind of set up than with Flying Nun (his previous label).

" That was the weird thing about dealing with Americans, on Arista. They're totally into success, and ambition, whereas in New Zealand, ambition is a dirty word. I think that's stupid. Why should you not strive for something? There's that whole apologist thing about the New Zealand character as well. Why apologise, you know? If you've got something to say or you've done something good, don't be ashamed of it, you know? That's one thing you can say about Australians. They may be crass bogans and all that, but they support their sport and culture. They've got their sport institutes, and they're out there, leading the world."

Shayne's own ambitions extend to "selling heaps of records, make lots of money, and go and develop my own institute of sport, with a courses for trotting drivers!" After the laughter subsides, he continues. "I feel good about the record I've made, it's true, it's not faking. Music is one of the few transcendent things in life, really; a joyous thing to be lost in. It's really powerful, intriguing, all that stuff. It's fascinates me, you know: why does a song work if you take out 20 seconds, why do people react to certain sounds, why do kids under 5 like the Beatles?"

Yes, Shayne still loves making music, even if it's a long torturous process. I close by asking him if it's hard being such a perfectionist "Yes. Oh, it drives me mental, man!" I detect what sounds like a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Shayne continues, a little more seriously. "My only solace is, it always has. You know that it's gonna be worth it, when you eventually get there. You're not settling for the easy option, its hard work. But it's really satisfying when it comes off. It's almost like the song has already been written, you've just got to find it, and it's floating round in the ether. I've really found that with some of these tracks. Some have literally taken years; I keep coming back to them, and they're not right, and you know there is a way that it goes. When you unlock that, it's a great feeling. It's a lonely breakthrough; you're sitting in your room, and you go 'YES!', but the glitter doesn't start falling from the ceiling, the balloons don't start popping; it doesn't happen! So you go 'Oh well, back to the pumpkin soup!'"

And back onto the stage. The album is out, and the world awaits. The Fits were famous for their incendiary live shows, something that Shayne has managed to avoid, while shutting himself away to make this record, but he's keenly anticipating getting back on the boards and playing live.

"I've hardly done any of it, you know, just because I've been in the studio for so long. When you've been sitting around, pushing a mouse around, going 'oh, lets move that one tenth over there', its a means to an end, and you've gotta do it, but if you're a musician, its about getting out and playing some music, you know? I really want to do a big band thing, but its just a real pain in the arse to find the right people, and organise it. I want to have backing vocals, like Marvin Gaye, two chicks and a guy. That'd be excellent, I reckon. It's kind of two extremes; either do it as a big band, or do it really minimal as a 3 piece. We can do it that way, but I'd like to try the big band thing." Ambitious as ever.