Greta O’Leary’s voice has been likened to a hāngī pit for its earthy, smokey tones. She’s known for it, and for eclectic writing, arrangements, and tender, reflective lyrics – although she says she struggles with “common human dialogue”. Greta currently lives in Tāmaki Makaurau, where she is about to finish a winter national tour (19 August at Whammy’s Public Bar). Her debut album, River Dark, was released last year and landed at #9 on the charts. No she follows it with a release that takes a new turn – new rollicking energy, absurdity, momentum, and hypnotic guitar riffs.
Here is Greta O’Leary’s Shameless Plug.
My favourite local artist (that I don’t know) is JessB! Absolute killer (& fellow cancer) 🦀. I’m a huge fan of being a fan. I think we aren't fans enough in this country. It's embarrassing and uncool and exposing and vulnerable but all those things are also the pathway to health, success, friendship and fulfilment (in my opinion) so go be a fan! A part of me genuinely thinks people won’t like me if I'm excited about their work, but that can't seriously be the case. It is always an honor for my work to mean something to someone. Tell each other.
My favourite arts space is The Lab in Mt Eden. Its hidden beneath the historic Crystal Palace Theatre, in the Ballroom. My producer, drummer and mentor all have studios there. It’s been a central feature of my intro into Tāmaki and I’m blessed to have had such an introduction. Wonderful studios, people and history.
My biggest inspiration is people who are outwardly vulnerable, truthful, and kind of huge losers. If you are not ok in this world then I might find you very inspiring. Quite a few people might.
My closest collaborator has been Adam Rohe. Adam is an actor, facilitator, clown and a professional idiot. He’s been instrumental in the visual side of my work. We started off not knowing anything but wanting to play and make things on a low budget and have been learning and growing as we go over the last few years. It’s been a really fun side quest to the actual music. He’s also where I turn when I need to be reminded who I am, what’s important (nothing external), and has been known to coach me when aforementioned human dialogue challenges crop up.
The best thing about being in the arts is it completely absorbs you if you let it. It’s a light to be guided by, it’s work, it’s play, it’s people, it’s pain, it’s joy, it’s everything and also nothing, busy and empty. My life just makes sense now in a way it didn’t before. Before when I was stunted and blocked and my subconscious was completely freaking out, I didn’t have anywhere to put this force, it was dreadful. To have passion is a gift.
The moment I knew I needed to be an artist was at a festival in the bush in Australia. Helping run a stage and loosely curated music nights. I watched a trio playing that struck a nerve, and I distinctly remember feeling overwhelming despair. I hated them. I knew that I needed to be making and performing work. I almost could not even recognise that knowing as I was so burdened by the weight of it, and how far I was from being able to do that work. The internal hurdles were much greater than the external ones, like barely playing guitar, having never written a complete song etc, it took a long time to move through them.
I’ve always been an artist, I just didn’t know what an artist was. I haven’t always been productive. I have many blocks. I am weak. I just didn't know that was all part of it.
My hottest career hack is: Be a part of your community! Soon you will realise that's what it's all about, or maybe that that's all there actually is for you. I’m not saying it's easy, straightforward, and you can’t be in it to get ahead, but it's valuable, real and it might really save you in a low point. Go and see shows and be inspired and changed and annoyed by the work of others, be a fan, receive work, give work.
My all time favourite album is impossible to choose. Here's some albums I like: Here in the Pitch by Jessica Pratt, The Line is a Curve by Kate Tempest, Solitude Standing by Susanne Vega.
My most embarrassing career moment is also hard to choose. I constantly humiliate myself in the name of my work. I talk to people who don’t know me or want to, I send emails promoting my work and emails on top of those, I talk unmasked to someone who approaches me (then regret it). It's the name of this work, actually it's probably not, it's what I do, for whatever reason. It's what I know how to do, it's largely beyond my control, and it hopefully opens as many doors for me as it firmly closes others.
My shameless plug is my new song and video, Year of the Dog. It’s a bouncy cathartic track that marks the beginning of a new chapter, locking into unthinking action and attempting to liberate me from the obsession over details that I live by. I recorded and co-produced this track with Jol Mulholland and I tried to make fun live at the heart of this work.
I wrote this song tying together childhood horse paddocks (standing upon the graves of said horses), and coming of age in an ego-death, combustion sort of way one particular year of the dog. It’s joyful, hypnotising and fun. In the video I don a gingham bonnet letting loose through hazy fields and rock mounds across rural Victoria.
