Ben Tolich, aka Mali Mali, reveals the story behind his new album.
Photo: Alice Tolich
Verse Chorus Verse sees local artists break down the stories behind their music. For the latest in the series, Auckland musician Ben Tolich - better known as Mali Mali - tells us why he had to embrace the pain on his new album, As a Dog Dreams. It's out tomorrow, but until then you can stream it exclusively below.
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I'm fascinated by the subconscious. That place inside all of us that cultivates wisdom and guides so much of our choices but seems impossible to reach. In my personal life I've been on a journey of confronting the parts of myself that I've buried in the corners of my brain. This album is a snapshot of that process.
The album title As a Dog Dreams is an example of that. A self-deprecating line that seemed to come out of the blue but revealed itself to me more as the months went by. The word 'dog' was prominent in my mind. To me it has many meanings. A dog symbolises loyalty and friendship which are themes I wrestle with on the album. It also symbolises depression i.e. black dogs. And the obvious: it's 'God' backwards.
The word 'dream' could mean something that we are striving for. The idea of a better, more extraordinary life which may or may not be based on our current reality. Or it could mean the portal to our subconscious. That strange world that happens to have a large say on the state of our mental wellbeing, how we treat ourselves and the people around us.
I'm still a strong believer in the album format and I think the tracklisting more or less follows a journey. 'I Left the Dog Out' was the first song I wrote after my last album and it was also around the time things took a significant turn for me. As much as I enjoy the abstract and was listening to a lot of songwriters that sing in character, at some point I had to accept that my frequent visits to psychotherapy and what I was trying to address in my own mental/spiritual growth was too strong a force to hide in my own writing. This album was going to be personal and upfront and that was that. During moments of clarity I had a fascination with the pain I was experiencing and trying to understand it as objectively as possible.
Musically I was inspired by low-fi artists, so recording the album myself seemed to make sense. I had little-to-no experience in home recording, so this way I was naturally able to get the slightly rough aesthetic I wanted. It was also a personal touch - not just lyrically, but on the overall sound.
Friends helped me out by imparting their recording and technical wisdom when I needed it. I followed online tutorials on mixing, but for the most part I just went with my gut and tried to think of this album as an experiment. The songs were already written and laboured over, so my hope was that they would be durable enough to take whatever I threw at them production-wise.
The album ends with a phrase that snuck its way on almost begrudgingly. "If I'm live wire, take me down". An acceptance that true love hurts and sometimes we are unable to see what's best for ourselves. Whether it be a good friend, spouse, or relationship with the divine, if we want to experience true love, we need to give it permission to reveal the darkest parts of ourselves. Most of the time that means being completely blindsided by the things in us we've tried desperately not to acknowledge, and to grieve the years we've wasted living with unhelpful thought patterns.
The truth is that for many, such a process is too painful to even attempt to endure. For me, this album is about the beginning of that on-going process. Embracing that pain and reluctantly accepting responsibility in order to grow. To be taken down into the depths and decide which parts of myself I want to nurture and which parts I want to starve. Then attempt to move forward.
