Ashley Davies is no stranger to the Australian music scene. After three decades manning the drum kit his resume is looking mighty full. He’s opened for Bob Dylan, played live with the likes of Jeff Lang and Chris Wilson, won an ARIA with Matt Walker, and he’s just released his sixth solo album. Not to mention the colossal stack of album credits as a session drummer, and a couple of film and television soundtracks for good measure.
While he’s been a lifeblood of the scene, providing a heartbeat of sweet, sweet drumming for near on 30 years, he’s never been afraid to look beyond the veil, to try something new. This seems to stem from an admiration for those who push boundaries, irrespective of their field. “Film, theatre, books, art; I do enjoy it when I see or hear somebody doing something that I haven’t seen before, when I see individuals pushing it a bit that does inspire me,” Davies says.
“I know it sounds crazy, but even in sport, if people are really going to do something major, you have to [push it, especially] if you’re trying to bust into new territory, unexplored territory.”
Ashley’s latest solo album Pulse-Transit echoes these sentiments; it’s a non-stop 32-minute instrumental epic that not only bends genres, but time and rhythm itself. The album’s conception came after Davies attended a modern dance show which had a profound impact on him. “My favourite form of dance was ‘50s and ‘60s lindy hoppers, where it was always on the beat, so when I went to this modern dance I was like ‘What the fuck’s going on here? Where’s their beat? Where’s anything?’”
Rather than following a set beat, the dancers seemed to have their own sense of time and rhythm, he notes that a friend remarked, “Maybe with this form of dance, if they feel like they’re getting in time they’ll get back out of it again straight away.”
Enamoured with the performance, it inspired his own exploration. “I was taken with it, I actually loved that sonically and in a visual sort of way, I just didn’t know what was going to happen next, I really like that, hence the album has that about it.”
That album certainly has that feel about it – Davies has carefully constructed an aural experience of twists and turns. You’re never quite sure what’s going to happen next. Ever mindful of the listener’s journey, after the first four tracks he notes, “I need to bring it back, we’ll go to a forest, hence strings and acoustic guitars, you’re walking through a nice forest with big trees.”
The visual cues are themed throughout the album. ‘179 on the Hume’ sends you hurdling up the Hume Highway in Davies’ ’65 HD Holden, while ‘Decoke’ has a different story. “[It comes from years] living across the road from a freight train track. When they’re coming up the hill they do this thing call decoking, letting off carbon,” he says, and so the wailing, distorted harmonicas mimic the process, sending the listener to another place.
The album is carefully balanced, between exploration and tradition, between organic guitars and metallic synths, between hurdling Holden’s and beautiful forests. Davies speaks of a similar balance when approaching the many collaborations on the album “Sometimes you have to be a bit tight with it, but I always want to give the musicians freedom, you’ll get so much more if you’re like, ‘Hey what’s your thing?’ so they can expand.”
You get a sense of Davies’ love of musical exploration when he speaks of his collaborations on the album. When probed as to whether he has a favourite he exclaims, “I love all the musicians on the album.” Speaking specifically of Amy Valent Curlis’ contribution on Fremantle Doctor, he notes, “I had written that track on guitar so how Amy interpreted that [on marimba and xylophone] was magnificent. I really enjoyed that collaboration because I hadn’t really done anything on those instruments before.”
