On a quiet Port Chalmers street sits a villa that, at first glance, appears tidy enough.
Yet a closer inspection reveals a few more details: an understated, sage-green colour scheme provides a nice blend with the distant slopes of Mt Cargill; a large wooden fence adds to a sense of solidity; and a darkness beyond the second-floor windows suggests creativity might lurk in snug recesses.
This is the home of Robert Scott, singer, songwriter, guitarist, artist, teacher aide, father, folk-song collector, doodler and hoarder.
Scott has lived in Port Chalmers for 15 years, the past 10 in his present abode.
He used to have a flat across the road, lured to the "rough and ready" town by others with musical inclinations.
He still bumps into those friends, their ranks now swelled by others; he enjoys the community spirit of the place.
For those unaware of Scott's background, here it is briefly: he has held a tenure of almost 30 years as bass player, keyboardist and sometime singer in seminal Dunedin band The Clean, who are about to release a new album; he is also a founding member - indeed frontman - of another lauded and longstanding New Zealand group, The Bats, formed in 1982.
So far, so what?, some might ask.
Well, Scott is a rather unlikely stage presence.
His singing voice has been described as that of a dad next door and his guitar playing, while certainly competent, is unlikely to see him voted heir apparent to Carlos Santana.
This is meant as no insult.
Scott knows this, has won the battle with his own self-consciousness, worked on his shortcomings.
He carries on. Magnetic is a fitting name for the street in which Scott lives.
In the port township, he is both anchored and energised. He writes songs, lots of them, all the time.
Some sit on bits of paper in his home, stacked and filed, awaiting practice-room playmates who might rough them up or render them smooth.
Others might be saved for a forthcoming solo album, his second.
As the seagull flies, he is less than a kilometre from where Ralph Hotere lived and worked at Observation Point.
Scott also likes his art; the walls of his lounge almost sag with it.
Some are the results of swaps; others are his own and vie for attention with a piano, a couple of acoustic guitars, one of which requires a sixth string, and a recent kitchen-table sketch for a Bats T-shirt. (Graphic design is another passion.
As a boy, Scott drew his own war comics because his mum didn't approve of them.) Elsewhere, in other rooms, rest electric guitars, diaries, posters and tour paraphernalia, evidence of a magpie tendency.
Scott concedes he is a collector, "one of those kind of people ... a bit anal. Some people have a laugh about it".
Regardless, the idea of looking back having constructed a substantial body of work, appeals.
Scott has travelled to the United States, Europe and elsewhere, largely as a result of tours with both The Clean and The Bats.
Thus exposed to other lifestyles, he subscribes to the "get on with it" ethos.
He's well-placed to comment: he was in Europe in 1986 when disaster occurred at Chernobyl and later when the Berlin Wall came down; and was in Manhattan with his Clean buddies, brothers David and Hamish Kilgour, on September 11, 2001, when planes struck the World Trade Center towers.
"I was talking to someone about that the other day," the 48-year-old reflects over a cup of tea as the morning sky grows brighter outside his kitchen window.
"What's that guy's name?" he pauses while the synapses complete the circuit.
"Zelig, from the Woody Allen film, who turns up in places.
"I don't feel fortunate I was there on September 11 because that was horrific, but when you look back on it, to see a bit of history here and there ... I guess it helps you carry on what you're doing. Life is short, so make the most of it and try to come up with another gem."
Certainly, Scott has unearthed more than a few gems over the years: the driving, jangling interplay of The Bats' North By North, The Black And The Blue and Smoking Her Wings sit alongside contributions to The Clean's canon.
Asked to select his favourite Scott songs, David Kilgour lists Dunes, E Motel, Flowers, Secret Place and Linger Longer.
Kilgour says Scott also contributes calm and energy to The Clean: "Bob steps in or steps up when we really need him to.
"The three of us are brothers who love each other very much. I can't really explain it in any other way. I have no idea why but sometimes, when the three of us are together, the music just rains in ... Robert also keeps the books, shall we say, on top of everything else."
The Clean formed in 1978; Scott joined the Kilgour brothers in 1980, meaning he was part of the line-up that released 1981 single Tally Ho.
Recorded for just $50, the song reached No 19 in the New Zealand charts.
Put out by the now defunct Flying Nun, Tally Ho was only the independent label's second release.
The subsequent EP, Boodle Boodle Boodle, spent six months in the charts, peaking at No 5 in 1981.
But this article is not meant to be a history lesson.
Suffice to say, Scott was there when the first waves broke on what became conveniently dubbed "The Dunedin Sound", that swell of bands that included key acts The Chills, Sneaky Feelings, The Verlaines and, later, Straitjacket Fits.
Nearly three decades later, Scott is still going strong.
He has just returned from an Australian tour with The Bats, who late last year released their seventh studio album, The Guilty Office.
Though it had been six years since Scott, Kaye Woodward, Paul Kean and Malcolm Grant last toured there, the visit garnered favourable reviews as well as several significant press interviews.
"The Aussie thing worked out really well," Scott says.
"We were still a bit of a novelty factor in a way ... It was packed in Melbourne and Sydney. There are a whole lot of festivals in February and March so we might go back for those."
More pressing is the forthcoming release of The Clean's latest album, Mister Pop.
Released on New Zealand independent label Arch Hill on September 7, Mister Pop is the band's fifth studio effort, not counting EPs, singles, compilations or live albums, and maintains the consistency that has won fans both at home and abroad.
In New York, where drummer Hamish Kilgour has long been based with his wife, some hold the group particularly close.
Says Brian Turner, music director for radio station WFMU: "I've personally witnessed four or five waves of rediscovery of The Clean in the years since I first heard them in 1986, and the stuff just continues to educate ... simply put, the music of the brothers Kilgour and Bob Scott holds up pretty damn well in 2009 for anyone checking them out for the first or 5000th time."
It was to New York that Scott and David Kilgour headed in 2007.
Scott can't recall where the impetus of the idea came from ("Perhaps people had asked when we were going to do something - people are always emailing, saying that").
Whatever it was, the result was a large batch of demo tracks, some of which were eventually re-recorded in Dunedin by Tex Houston and culled to the "small pile" (10, in fact) that grace Mister Pop.
A common perception of The Clean is that it is a jam band; that songs only arrive by way of a jumble of ideas, rather than members presenting fully formed songs to the others.
Scott says both methodologies prevail.
"We spent quite a bit of time fluffing around, trying different things," Scott explains.
"It wasn't like some albums where we've had a lot of stuff written and have played it on tour and been ready to record it. This was more about trying to bring stuff along and seeing if it works.
"David had some already written, like In the Dreamlife U Need a Rubber Soul, whereas other ones are made up in the studio, like Tensile, Loog and Moonjumper.
"There are always ones that David writes to begin with; there are always those on an album. There are sometimes one or two I write. The balance will be stuff we've jammed on.
"Some are immediate, but there are others you have to work quite hard at, even though it might come out sounding quite natural and spontaneous.
"We are our own harsh critics. We set high standards for ourselves. We don't want to put out anything that would denigrate the past," Scott says, before chuckling at his rather reverential statement.
The point is, The Clean's music has clearly evolved. (Take the female harmonies on album opener Loog).
Yet the songs still bear the same experimental tics.
No Botox-like reinvention has been required.
"Sometimes you get reviews that say, `this album sounds similar to the last one', then you start to second-guess yourself and think, `maybe we should change it up a bit for the next one'.
"But at the same time, a band has got its own things that it does well and that is what you need to keep sight of - that what you're doing is actually good and people get a lot of enjoyment out of it.
"If you try to change just for the hell of it, then you're not being true to yourself."
No tour has been planned to support Mister Pop.
It's a subject that requires further discussion among the members of The Clean, who have got to a point in their careers where they have the luxury of picking and choosing just where and when they will perform.
"Because the career has been so long, it's not like you're expected to do a whole bunch of touring. Our careers, our lives, don't hinge on making a success of the band, so we can do exactly what we want to.
We don't feel the need to be dragged out to sell the album, because we know it'll sell to fans anyway," Scott says, quickly adding: "As long as the music is good."
When Scott wasn't playing football for The Taieri High School first XI, he could be found jamming with his younger brother Andy and a few mates from East Taieri, where he grew up and first learned violin and piano.
He describes the like-minded group, Electric Blood, as a teenage gang that just happened to play music.
They would pile into the living room of the Scotts' home; clustered around a microphone, they used cardboard boxes as drums for a while and put down "any old rubbish".
Scott, at 16 the oldest band member, was keen to write an album.
"Looking back, it is pretty funny. But I can also hear where I was heading musically. There are similarities to what I do now ... I guess it was about learning how to do it. We pretty much did an album each summer from 1977 to 1984-'85. There are about 10 albums."
(For the record: Scott, the collector, has had the songs transferred from cassette to CD.)
Ever the doodler, Scott headed to art school in 1979. There he met David Kilgour. Eighteen months later, both had dropped out to pursue music.
Each has continued to draw and paint, the result being a creative cross-pollination that has led to a relaxed competition among band members to produce the next album cover. (Again, for the record: the artwork for Mister Pop was painted by Hamish.)
"In about 1995, I made a conscious effort to do more painting. I had a few exhibitions and started selling a bit. I've tried to maintain that," says Scott, who often works with cheap acrylic on hardboard.
He says he finds a lot of wood in rubbish skips.
To make his point, he heads into another room and returns with an oval-shaped landscape.
Scott's paintings possess a whimsical, Never Never Land quality.
They are not unlike some of his songs, particularly those of The Bats, music that has prompted the description "childlike".
"It's basic; you can sing to it," he says, adding that he has attempted to play with darker shades.
"I've tried to steer away from that as a lot of early reviews of The Bats said that it was really naïve and simple. I didn't want it to sound like that ... Having said that, my music is a bit like that: it's usually an easy rhythm, you can dance to it.
"That's the basis of it, but I've tried to show I can do something else."
On his Myspace page, Scott makes reference to being a reluctant performer, though face-to-face across the kitchen table, he claims he's "over that now".
These days, he is more comfortable with his singing and guitar playing.
Still, it is put to Scott (and, again, no slight is intended) that his is a shining example of a DIY attitude; that if a man with a voice far removed from the Three Tenors can find a niche in the music business then, well, perhaps others can.
"Oh, very much so," Scott agrees with a smile, thus confirming unflappability is another strength.
"Also, not being a natural front-person ... I'm always playing guitar while singing so I've got that to hide behind, I guess. I think people are mainly there to hear the songs."
Scott is also passionate about others' songs.
In 2004, thanks to a Creative NZ grant, he released Songs Of Otago's Past, a collection of lyrics by settlers, whalers, gold-seekers and others.
"It was a project I wanted to tackle", he says matter-of-factly, adding he is considering a second instalment.
Creativity aside, Scott has woven strands more common to others: family life, married life, working life.
He lived in Christchurch from 1982 to 1988, working as a fundraiser for IHC; in Mosgiel, he held a job as a picture-framer; and for the past decade has been a teacher aide at Port Chalmers Primary School.
"It's really important work," he says of his four-day-a-week position.
"I find it really rewarding ... I've always got on with kids. I've got three of my own.
"Whenever I'm in the classroom, I'm helping out with reading or maths or spelling or whatever. Other times I'll be in there for music. We do a lot of songwriting with the kids, mainly on guitar. We've probably written about 70-80 songs with the kids. Generally, it's about what they are studying - dogs, planets ...
"We've got a CD that we put out on a few years ago."
For posterity, one presumes.
