Oh, Rose released their album SEVEN earlier this year, a rather special record which delighted and terrified us in equal measure and got us writing about possession and demonic entities and that sort of thing. In truth, it’s nothing of the sort. It couldn’t be more human.
Since the release, lead Olivia Rose rounded up a bunch of “strong and amazing” people from in and around her home town and recorded what she describes as “a short film/intense experience and ultimate release” to accompany to of the tracks. Directed by Rose, the video was filmed and edited by Kuwilileni Williams-Hauwanga, Brooke Bolding and Justis Biggart and is as intense as anything on the record. I’d normally put the music at the end but I don’t want my words to lessen or alter the impact of the video so please watch it first. We recommend using the largest screen you own with headphones. Oh, and it’s probably not a good idea to watch it at work.
The video opens with the track ‘Running’ and sees seven apparently blood-soaked individuals emerging from some sort of forest scene to run down a poorly lit road at night. Whether they are running towards something or away from it is unclear, although they are backlit by the headlights of a car. “Put your faith in your eyes” Rose tells us as the seven continue their forward motion, some looking determined, some scared, some in the midst of an unspecified frenzy. The footage becomes jumpy, cutting between increasingly shaky shots until a strange interlude is superimposed over the video, showing the seven performing a variety of odd and potentially ritualised actions to unknown ends. The scene is imbued with a meaning that doesn’t quite register and before your mind gets a chance to catch up they’re off running again. “Put your faith in your eyes. Come on and keep running”.
‘Running’ ends with a series close-up face-shots, each of the seven in turn, before they line up in a row at the side of the road and the video cuts to black. The title track emerges from the plaintive note and the seven re-emerge, in daylight, standing in a woodland clearing. They are in the same order but their clothes are clean white. Behind stands a tall figure cloaked in red holding what appears to be a bucket. “It’s been a lot of standing up” sings Rose. “Hey I’ve been down before”. More close-ups ensue, revealing small details which suggest each person is having a slightly different experience. You might see terror, tenacity, a sort of blankness. Vague expectancy or pre-tornadic calm. Whatever you read into the faces, they are united in their paradoxical (or not) aura of vulnerability and strength.
As the song reaches it’s climax (what we previously called “a rhythmic frenzy… a demonic wail… a moment unexpected in its ferocity”) the seven return to their row and the figure clad in red pours what appears to be blood over their heads from a vulvic container, one by one. The fluid gets into their teeth and eyes and hair, and they wear the faces of people stranded in some remote trauma, staring evenly at the camera, daring it to tell their story. It’s not clear if the seven chose to be there.
“It’s just a lot of standing up.
Hey I’ve been down, beforeMy need to please.
My need”
The video ends with the seven running once more, before they enter a body of water and submerge themselves, still together.
My overwhelming emotion, in relation to the video and SEVEN as a whole, is a special kind of dread. A dread so large it’s all consuming and cathartic, something you can submit to, fall through, have poured over your head and into your ears. It’s a dread that is older than me, or you, or anyone we know, an atavistic, semi-religious thing which operates below the conscious mind. It’s something to do with living and dying and things outside of our control. It’s something to do with other people. It might be the reason we’re here.
I can go through my life pretty much ignorant of that feeling. It’s not something that comes up in day-to-day living unless an artist decides to launch it at me. When listening, the red clad figure is Oh, Rose and I can take the contents of the bucket in small, controllable doses that leave me feeling elated and kind of shaky. But here’s the thing. That’s not true for everyone. What if the red clad figure is life? What happens then? Well, I don’t know. I can’t know. I have no right to even guess. But this video knows. Watch it several times, and let it speak to you.
You can buy SEVEN now from the Oh, Rose Bandcamp page. They were also part of our Quiet, Constant Friends project (which you can read about here), and you can buy that here.