“That’s not the line,” Blasko laughs. “It’s, ‘I’ll never know what you said’.”
So much for my theory of hidden clues and secret insights. Also, my hearing. But then, obfuscation has never really been the Sydney singer’s speciality. Blasko has always been one to wear her heart on her sleeve, and with Eternal Return this frankness has been invigorated.
“I think I’ve always been trying to write a really good pop album through all of my records, and this one I tried to be a bit stricter,” she says. “I really wanted it to be quite relatable. Not in the sense that I was trying to work out what people wanted to hear, but I wanted it to be a tight pop album. I suppose it seemed like a really fun pursuit after doing something like the Sydney Dance Company project, or the film work of the last year. Those pieces can be longer, more meandering, you can just go off on a tangent. After that it was really fun to write something that was disciplined in terms of trying to write a good pop song, to focus more on really strong melodies, which isn’t really what I was trying to do with the SDC stuff.”
The Sydney Dance Company project Blasko refers to was her collaboration with composer Nick Wales on the soundtrack for Rafael Bonachela’s production, Emergence. It wasn’t the first time she’d been asked to collaborate – she also composed the music for Brendon Cowell’s 2015 film Ruben Guthrie. Although it’s a process that conjures unique rewards, collaborations with other musicians can be quite a delicate give-and-take.
“I think it’s really difficult, and I feel like a lot of times I just run away from it,” says Blasko. “It’s very revealing. You’ve got to put a lot of effort into communicating, and I would much rather just do everything myself in a room with the door closed. That’s how I started doing all this, just writing in my room. But I do think some of the best things I’ve done have been with other people. Some of the songs on this album were co-written, and I think they’re stronger melodically for having done that.”
With a four-month old baby demanding her attention, Blasko’s times of actual solitude are greatly restricted. However, she’s nonetheless continued to perform, and although she has warmed to the idea of creative collaboration, she’s also quick to joke about throwing tantrums and hurling pianos at people. Eternal Return captures this duality, and while some have heralded it as an ode to the ‘80s, Blasko herself is more circumspect about such nostalgia.
“A few people have commented that the album sounds really ‘80s, but I didn’t really want it to sound like a retro album. Maybe when people have heard the whole record it will change how they feel about it. I hear it as having some nostalgic qualities, but I kind of think it’s hard to place in a certain era. I think you just have it in the back of your mind what you’d like to do, and wait for the right time to do it. It’s like a door suddenly opens to something new.”
BY ADAM NORRIS
