#forgiefan

Who Is The Greatest Enemy? // Nicholas Chim

"This is an album about growing up"

Or growing older. Or maybe just growing. Nicholas Chim has been at this game for a while. Now he's working beyond the dejected-male archetypes that litter his songbook, trying to look deeper into himself.  It's an exploration through interior spaces hitherto unknown, done with a honed finesse as Chim cuts through meat to get to bone. To most his work strikes one as loose, wispy. He deals in gentle voices soothing over scarred emotions. Now he wants something more direct. Who is the greatest enemy? Who is it to you? We talk to Nicholas Chim about his upcoming EP and a whole lot more.

Jump Into Limbo: You haven't been releasing anything for a while. What have you been up to in-between previous releases and the upcoming album?

Nicholas Chim: I'd say that I've been growing up. Things change when you get past thirty years old. I'm moving past the typical songwriter fare of Forgiefan where it's all about breakups, or how you loved some girl and she didn't love you. I read somewhere that songwriters find ways to write about love even though it's such an overused topic. This is a record about love. But it's not about putting it on one person, or putting them up on a pedestal. It's about learning how to love yourself. Sometimes, the biggest obstacle to finding love is yourself. That's why I called the EP The Greatest Enemy because one day it just hit me: what if I am my own greatest enemy? It's an idea that I had a long time ago in school, and it's finally translated into something bigger.

A discography laid out end to end can produce a vivd biography. Nicholas Chim is no stranger to this. His recorded life began with the punk antics of Vertical Rush, a rock outfit coping muscle from Jawbreaker/ The Promise Ring with narratives fitting quieter arrangements. Then the band split, and Chim veered into his acoustic schtick. Vertical Rush was filled youthful energy that might not strike one as intimate. But according to Chim, introspective material was always at the core of who he was.

JIL: Did you begin to write more serious material when you began your solo career? Or was there always an impulse, even during Vertical Rush, to explore more personal themes?

NC: There's a song called Standing In Your Shoes off The Charlie EP that was based on a significant life event. I was twenty when my band mate's father passed away. My friends had tried to call me all night, but I was fast asleep. I only got the news when I woke up. His dad died in his arms of a heart attack. It was fucking depressing, it was shit. His father had wanted him to study in Australia. But after that happened the money just ran out, and my friend had to live a very different life. He had to take care of his family. Meanwhile I'm stuck in camp doing Guard Duty and watching all this happen. My own father left my family when I was a kid. Whenever something similar happens to someone else I really do feel for them. In Standing In Your Shoes I was welcoming people into my reality in really morbid way. This is it. This is life without a father figure. So there were always a couple of Vertical Rush songs that aren't just rock songs. And during the album launch I played that song by myself. Just a single spotlight shining down, singing about a friend who's father had passed away.

The Greatest Enemy is filled with lush arrangements and a larger band presence than before. For many though, the greatest Nicholas Chim album is still 2011′s Forgiefan. The landmark record that marked him as a great confessional songwriter.

JIL: What's the story behind Forgiefan?

NC: Forgiefan was a breakup album. The worst thing about that breakup was that for months, I had to work in the same place where we used to spend a lot of time. I couldn't take it anymore. I was twenty five, twenty six at the time; so I had to freedom to do whatever I wanted. I decided to buy a one-way ticket for Melbourne, my family bought me a return ticket home when the time finally came. But for about a month, I slept on a couch with people I sort of knew but whom I definitely wasn't close to. I created a little routine for myself: spend the afternoon writing and practising, do an open mic every other day, get drunk and go home.

On the next day I'd go around doing things tourists do, I visited the National Gallery once. Then I spent a week with my uncle down south where we went fishing in the islands. I bought a solo ticket for a tour of the Great Ocean Road. I hadn't been on holiday for more than five years so it felt amazingly liberating. And this might be cheesy, but the highlight was going to see the Twelve Apostles. I looked out at the expanse of the ocean and how ancient the landscape was. Suddenly my breakup seemed so small and insignificant against the age of the world. It changed something for me. I met a guy in a bar who told me this awful story of his wife leaving him and his estranged son, about how things didn't turn out the way he wanted. Later he got on stage to play Oh My Sweet Carolina. It was depressing as hell but it was gorgeous. That was the place that Forgiefan came from.

In 2014 , Chim made his way into Germany , finding a new audience as well as his now favourite touring destination .

JIL: You've spent a lot of time touring in Germany on multiple occasions, how does that feed you as an artist?

NC: That's the one thing I really like. When I'm on tour, I'm finally doing what I want to do. All the irritating work that I have to do to get there makes sense. One month on the road is just shiok. I wake up, play a show, go to the next city. Somehow I enjoy that. I could wake up with a massive hangover and sleep on the train for four hours. Then I'll meet someone new, my host. Later I'll meet more new people who will make me drunk again, play the show; and repeat. And I did that fourteen times over three weeks. It's an awesome life, you do what you want to do and get paid for it.

A good host is someone who makes sure your stuff gets to the venue safely, then shows you around the city. I ask them about their lives, since they represent that city. I want to know what their hopes and dreams are, what they want to achieve. And I feed off their energy. We'll have a beer along the riverside, talk; and that's the context for that night. So that night, I'm playing with that context; coupled with my life experience.

At his core, Chim wrestles with the ego that makes songwriting either transcendental or prone to becoming a self-absorbed mess. To him, The Greatest Enemy is that contradiction realised as maturity.

JIL: Do you find it hard to write material that is personal but at the same time self-aware?

NC: As you're writing a song, you're going back and forth between being a narcissist; letting everything out and trying to be objective at the same time. And in the hours you commit everyday working on  something you will find certain parts that you really like. But you need to ask yourself if someone else beside you, your friends your family, or someone who doesn't even know you can connect to it. You're constantly going back and forth. It can be kind of schizophrenic. But it's important to keep those opposing forces in moderation.

I would say that a song comes about by a personal event. It triggers an internal debate on how I see the world, on what I see as right and wrong. But at the same time this record is about going past the point of having a specific source of inspiration. A lot of songwriters are stuck because they need a muse or they won't be able to carry on. You don't want to be a clinical writer who can churn out something in eight hours in a closed room. I want to develop form but I still want to keep my heart. I was talking to Jaime Wong, who I'm mentoring, about her EP. That record was about a breakup. But what happens now that the breakup is over and she's finished exercising her catharsis? Now what? Do you go and find drama? That's not healthy as a person. That's something I learned about growing up. It's not about finding new drama but gaining new perspective. It might not sound very romantic. My friend articulated it pretty well when he said that "the melancholia has more nuances to it". It's what I've been working on for all these years where yes: there are sad songs. But they're not weepy and full of misery. Even though it's there, it's not whiny. I wanted it to be accessible but lush.