1990 Otago Daily times By Nigel Benson

Things have changed a bit for the Chills' Martin Phillipps since he was invited to join a punk band at Logan Park High School, The Same, because he was the only guy around who owned an electric guitar.
The Chills' second album, Submarine Bells, has only been available for three weeks and is already the top-selling record in the country. It is the first recording from a Dunedin band to make number one in the history of the national sales chart, and only the seventh time by a New Zealand group, overall.
The current world tour has left a confetti of rave reviews blowing In the Chills' wake. Phrases like "spooky brilliance", "slightly psychedelic and very memorable", and "(Martin Phillipps is) Dunedin's Dylan" leaping from every page.
The final concert of the world tour is in the Dunedin Town Hall on Sunday. July 8, and Phillipps is excited at the prospect of returning to his hometown.
"I can t wait, actually. It's a huge relief just being back in New Zealand and Dunedin, well Dunedin's always going to be home for me. I'm really looking forward to showing off this band.”
"It's quite funny because every time we come down people are thinking, I wonder if they've sold out this time', and we haven't. I find that really rewarding. It's going to be a great experience playing in the Town Hall and I'm looking forward to playing with the Bats and the 3Ds, too."
Critical acclaim has accompanied the Chills Submarine Bells world tour and Phillipps returns home happy, but jaded.
"The tour went really well. The music press response was phenomenal really. Music companies have jumped up and down - it's been great. You can have too much of performing live though."
Tours and endless performances take their toll, Phillipps says. The Chills have been through 11 line-up changes since he formed the band in 1980 and Andrew Todd (keyboards) will leave after their Dunedin date.
At one stage Phillipps' younger sister, Rachel, was conscripted until the day she arrived on their parents' doorstep In Dunedin bleary-eyed, soaking wet, and crying that she had had enough after abandoning the band in Auckland. The Rock'n'Roll lifestyle is not a good one." Phillipps admits. "It's like an anti-lifestyle because you've got no time to yourself. You've got to shelve doing things till later and that time never seems to come. One of the biggest sacrifices for me is not being able to have a home."
Home will seem even further away for the Chills when they embark on another tour later this year, which will take them to America, Europe, Britain and Australia. Phillipps hopes to get back to Dunedin in time for Christmas before work starts on a new album.
"I have a low tolerance of boring, repetitive songs and really have to write to please myself." he said. "Submarine Bells took us two years to do and I'm confident I can keep writing albums as good as this one."
"Right from the start I believed in the quality of New Zealand music. No one seemed to be taking it out to the world and I wanted to, but without compromising my ideals. If we were run over by a bus tomorrow, at least we've achieved something.
"I mean, I wanted to be an archaeologist when I was a kid. Still..." he adds wistfully, "Maybe when I'm older. - If a would-be archaeologist turned musician sounds odd then consider the possibilities of a reverend turned pop star.
Phillipps' father, the Rev Donald Phillipps, is the superintendent of the Dunedin Central Methodist Mission and his backing vocals are currently being heard on teenagers' stereos all over the world. Mr. Phillipps recorded the backing for Submarine Bells at the 4ZB studio, in Dunedin, before it was flown over to London to be mixed with the rest of the track.
"Martin has said for about three years that he would like me to do some backing and it was very exciting” he said. "I've trained as a singer and the Chills sent over a list of notes with a description of noises. I just stood there and said 'ooooh' and 'aaaaaah' in different degrees of loudness," he laughed.
Mr. Phillipps philosophically dismisses it as another of the sacrifices that have to be made when you have a son or daughter in a band. Mrs. Barbara Phillipps still recalls with a shudder the Chills' first practice in their Albany St home when she had to run around warning the neighbours.
"They were about 18, and the house just vibrated," she laughed.
"It's funny for the parents because you get involved in spite of yourself," Mrs. Phillipps added.
"You get involved in a network with all the other parents of band-members - kids you've seen growing up and who have spent years vibrating your house till four in the morning. And you'll be walking along the street and you'll see another parent and you both look up and roll your eyes at each other.