Dropper Are heading to the Poneke House Party.
- Jade McLeod

- May 15
- 5 min read
Dropper's music bursts with energy. When they talk, emotions run high as they jump from memories of childhood bedrooms and favourite punk records to Wellington venues filled with echoes of the past. They talk about the sting of 90s nostalgia, the struggle of writer’s block, the heaviness of grief, their favourite guitars, and the excitement of live shows. There’s always a restless drive pushing them to chase the next song before the last one is even over.
Jude and Walter both got into music when they were young. Jude’s home was always filled with punk rock and his dad playing music. Before he picked up the guitar, he listened to Daft Punk and dubstep on his iPad, trying to keep up with his sister. What began as a competition turned into a true passion. Walter’s musical journey was different. His parents didn’t play instruments, but music was always around. He took guitar lessons as a kid, listened to his dad’s Springsteen records, and during lockdown, he dove into music theory, piano, jazz band, and drums. His curiosity eventually brought him back to rock.
When talking about creative influences, Jude mentions Bob Mould, Hüsker Dü, Sugar, Greg Dulli from The Afghan Whigs, and lots of New Zealand music, especially bands connected to Flying Nun. Walter also feels drawn to local music, naming Dave Grohl, Peter Cat Recording Co., Snail Mail, and many artists from Wellington and Auckland who keep the scene vibrant.
Dropper’s visuals have drawn comparisons to Oasis by accident. Their logo, they say, wasn't meant to echo What’s the Story Morning Glory?, but after Oasis toured Australia and people wore the merch, it became hard to ignore. The band isn’t precious about it. Their visual style feels more like a mix of clothes, friends' drawings, old banners, and single covers, reflecting genuine taste rather than a calculated image. They’ve been called “quite 90s,” and they don’t mind. For Dropper, though, nostalgia goes deeper. It’s not just about dressing up in old styles, but about the odd feeling of memories that aren’t really yours and the way they linger inside you. Jude describes it as “nostalgia for a time no Gen Z lived,” a feeling of taking on your parents’ love for the music they grew up with. It’s not about pretending you were there, but about receiving a sound, a video, a story, or a record sleeve and picturing what that world was like. It's not copying the past, but filtering it through their own generation’s experiences.
When asked who they make music for, Dropper’s answer is simple: themselves. Jude says they write songs to satisfy themselves, hoping others will connect too. It’s refreshing. Dropper isn’t trying to create a hit or please an algorithm. They make the music they want to hear, and if others relate, that’s a bonus.
The band’s story is heavy. Before Dropper, Jude and Carlos played in a high school band called Bleeding Star. When their guitarist, Otis, died of cancer at 17, Bleeding Star ended. From that loss, Dropper slowly came together. The current lineup formed naturally: Walter knew Toby from high school, Jude had known Carlos since he was 13, and he met Walter at university. Their story doesn’t have a neat beginning. It’s full of grief, built on both new and old friendships, and shaped by loss and times when making music together was the only way to move ahead. Grief is at the centre of Dropper’s latest record, Be A Little Kinder. Jude calls it a grief record, but it’s also thoughtful, introspective, angry, emotional, and very personal. The album shows how he felt during a tough time in his life. Even though the songs are personal, listeners can find their own meaning in them.
River, who was in Dropper at the time, helped write the record. For Jude, it was his first real songwriting partnership. The process moved quickly. Walter joined only a month before recording drums, and the album was written and recorded in just a few months. You can sense the urgency in their tone. There’s a wild need to capture inspiration before it disappears, a fast and emotional drive that keeps them moving forward. Even while playing songs from Be A Little Kinder, Dropper is already thinking about what’s next. Jude says they’re working on another record, with new songs in progress. Some might take years to come out, but that’s normal for a band.
Writing all the time isn’t always exciting. When inspiration hits, Jude writes quickly and intensely. But when it stops, he feels a real emptiness. It’s more than just frustration; without music, something important is missing, and every day feels a bit emptier. Still, he doesn’t try to force it. Sometimes he puts the guitar down for weeks. Other times, an idea from another band member, like a drumbeat, a riff, or a lyric, helps get things started. Working together can inspire creativity. He talks openly about ADHD and creativity, not in a polished “superpower” way, but in a more honest one. There are useful parts, like hyperfocus and obsession, especially when it comes to getting the sound right. But Jude is clear that it can also be hard, scattered, and frustrating. In Dropper, though, that shared creative restlessness seems to become part of the band’s rhythm. When they lock in together, the tangents can become songs.
They don’t want listeners to take away just one message from their music. Walter hopes people find their own meaning in the songs and also notice the lyrics, the playing, the loud guitars, and the passion behind the sound. Jude wants people to care about the details, just like he does with his favourite records. In the end, they hope people hear Dropper and think, “I need to see that live.” Dropper wants their songs to go beyond just the recording. They hope the energy, the noise, the little details, and the feeling all come alive in a room.
Live music is central to how they see the band. Walter wants people to picture what they hear, to imagine four friends on stage enjoying themselves. Jude agrees. When he likes a band, he always looks for a live video first. If the live show doesn’t impress him, it changes how he feels about the music.
With all these changes happening, their upcoming show at Poneke House Party for flood relief feels both exciting and a bit unreal. The event is at the Opera House, which isn’t where Dropper usually plays. Walter won’t be performing because of a broken wrist, so Jude and Carlos will play a more stripped-back set.





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