Matt Corby – My False (mp3)

Let’s be frank here. Reality TV hasn’t bred much musical goodwill. Apart from John Foreman’s attempts at matching an Andre Rieu face, Marcia Hines using any opportunity to wear a jumpsuit on live TV or watching Bug Eye introduce every song with an expression that looks like he’s being constantly raped from behind, I’d rather digest my dinner with some with something of substance. Natalie Gauci? Anthony Callea? Can’t forget my personal favourite, Casey Donovan. I’m sure they’re all forging their music careers fronting 80‘s cover bands out in the eastern suburbs, frying fish and chips for the local community or gatecrashing the e-grade social pages at the back of the Herald Sun.

So what really does come after the big hoo-ha of winning a crappy Hyundai and a big ass record deal that requires you to personally polish Jay-Dee Springbett’s bald patch and shit out an album in three days? Mass rotation on the generic Kmart store CD, perhaps the 5 dollar bargain bins at JB, regular Westfield gigs maybe. If you’re lucky like a former top 20 contestant your track may get the opportunity to feature in a UK laundry detergent commercial. Contest me if I’m wrong, but if I was a muso, the thought of a domestic British female scrubbing the skidmarks off her toddler’s cloth nappy in perfect 4/4 time to my my track probably wouldn’t measure the crux of where I’d want my career to be heading.

It was inevitable that when I went to a gig when I was visiting Sydney earlier this year – and saw that Matt Corby was on the bill, I smirked a very wry little smirk. However, hidden away at the back of a Spanish restaurant, walking into the intimate, amber lit gig space was something on an entire different level.

I’ve never used the words ‘moving’ to describe a gig. For me, going out to see bands in Melbourne means having drongos spill beer on your good pants and watching incompetent garage band vocalists abuse sound dudes. Gigs are usually brash, raw and somewhat energetic, but far from compelling the shudder-and-goosebumps sort of thing.When I walked in to this Syd gig, Corby was already in the middle of his set. Although I’m quite fond of hyperbole, I’m far from exaggerating when I say you couldn’t hear a fucking pin drop in the place.

The great thing about Corby is that this guy can sing. You could feel each tempered phrase and each swathing falsetto engulf the tiny, dimly lit space in some sort of creepy supernatural aura. Could have been just the combination of some eerie Bon Iver-esque sample cues, a heavily potent glass (can’t you Sydney people mix drinks?!) and a hazy cloud of smoke billowing from the Spanish kitchen next door – but Corby’s set was incredible. I’ve seen a lot of bands try and compensate for the meagre skills of their frontman by recruiting an attractive female to hit a triangle in the background, whacking in overbearing solos or donning hideous matching outfits to fill the void (you know who you are).  At the end of the day, there is nothing more refreshing than a voice that compels and convicts. There are no wasted phrases here.

‘My False’ kicks off with a ghostly call to arms, before moving into a wave of pastoral nostalgia. The progression of the melody has a beautiful folk-hymnal quality to it. It’s all angelic falsettos, gospel stomps and cascading vocals, so if you were looking forward to a thorough Idol bashing, you probably won’t find it here from me.

(For the record, I still own two copies of the ‘Angels Brought Me Here’ (limited edition, mind you) I purchased as a completely clueless thirteen year old.The first copy sits at the bottom of my wardrobe filed next to Delta Goodrem, Evanescence and a wad of tragic So Fresh compilations, while the second copy doubles up as a coaster.)

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Everyone’s favourite vagabond sons Tame Impala are preparing for the release of their debut album Innerspeaker, which will descend on all your curious Australian ears on the 21st of May and on the 8th of June for the rest of the world.

Shows have completely sold out for Tame Impala’s Melbourne and Sydney dates, but tickets to second show in Sydney at the Gaelic Club on Sunday 16th of May have just been released.

Continuing the psychedelic pursuit, the Tame Impala lads will trip up to the States during June with buddies MGMT, before venturing back home to play Splendour In The Grass.

Below is the brand new clip for the first single, ‘Solitude is Bliss’. It’s been getting some decent digs from Pitchfork and is the ‘most viewed’ new vid on the site.

Directed by Megaforce, the clip features a whole load of post-pillage dancing, flailing post-it notes from the sky and a rather unfortunate dog.

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Thanks to Telstra and MySpace, PartyCatchers will be is holding simultaneous parties in Sydney and Melbourne, jam-packed with Aussie bands, DJ’s and loads of extra digs. We have some free passes for y’all!

To get a hold of these limited tickets normally, you’ll need to log www.partycatchers.mobi and download the Party Catchers app and hit the streets of your city on Saturday to track down the ticketholders via GPS.

We know that you’d rather be in bed resonating in the aftermath of Friday night instead of going on a Saturday morning jog, so we’ve got  3 Melbourne double passes and 3 Sydney double passes up for grabs!

All you need to do is follow us on twitter (twitter.com/whothehellnet) and retweet this event on your status by 3pm Friday 30th April (tomorrow!) to go in the running!

GET ON IT.

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It’s a token benchmark for critics and fans alike to pick apart a new release, chew the contents and spit out the jilted remains in some kind of flagging accusatory such as ‘SELLOUT!’, ‘COMMERCIAL BULLSHIT!’ or the archetypal ‘I-liked-the-old-stuff-better’. Linger too long in nostalgia and your tunes will be deemed bland and banal. Venture out on new terms, and your authenticity as an artist will be questioned. You just can’t win.

Abandoning his dreadlocks and leaving behind the finger-pickin’ days of Sunrise Over Sea, John Butler returns with a little less hair, a new band and a very different insight on his third album, April Uprising. Independently released through MGM and Jarrah Records, it has already cemented it’s place debuting at no. 1 on this weeks’ ARIA chart. Dextrous, staccato plucking and those grooving bass lines that we’ve come to define the John Butler Trio by are not totally lost, but do seem to shadow the punchy riffs and gutsy hooks which make up the crux of this record.

To quickly dismiss that JB has totally dredged his ways for the shiny lights of commercial realm on his new record is an ignorant claim. Anti-capitalist leanings, respect for the land and individual plights are still dredged up, while tracks like ‘To Look Like You’ poke references to body image. Although this record lacks a lot of that funk/reggae flavour we became familiar with on Sunrise Over Sea, the skills of new recruits Nicky Bomba (drums) and Byron Luiters (bass) pitch in a more tempered, earthly feel. And to our favourite politician with a tragic tracksuit fetish, ‘Johnny’s Gone’ is a poetic middle finger. The great thing about JB is his ability to deliver a political message without shrouding it in a veil of lyrical pretense down your throat.

‘Revolution’ is an an incredibly stirring opener, a pointer to the historical event linked to JB’s Bulgarian hertiage. There’s a depth in the way JB articulates phrases in quiet moments of song, which lends dynamic to reflective moments and credibility to the issues explored. With buoyant hooks, a confident backing beat and a few twitching keys in the background, ‘C’mon Now’ is essentially Ben Lee on crack cocaine or a tune that would compliment an Omo commercial. With an open fist in the soil, ‘Ragged Mile’ frames pacing, tribal drumming against galloping blues-folk riffs, harmonies swaying back and forth and gradually ascending to a brilliant atmospheric peak. ‘Mystery Man’ has deconstructed remnants of standout ballads from Grand National like ‘Losing You’. A melancholic sort of scene popped into my head, an elderly couple waltzing in an empty country dancehall and reliving their youth.

‘Close To You’ is an prime instance of where the trio is exactly on par with their new direction.  With that driving riff and cowbell that courts your ears into the chorus, it’s incredibly difficult not to catch on. I can’t decide whether the speedy lyrical swagger of ‘Don’t Wanna See Your Face‘ packs character or is just plain irritating. There’s no doubt it has airplay potential, but also potential to be the song you curse for rotating in your head at 8am on a Monday morning or the track that won’t go away no matter how many times you change the FM dial.

Props also go out to the design of this album. Theres nothing that quite satisfies like the experience of peeling back the covers of a soft digipack (100%recycled paper mind you) and discovering a shiny lyrics booklet in LEGIBLE font. Amen.

April Uprising isn’t as strong as it’s predecessor, Grand National, but let’s not forget that music is in a constant state of flux; shifting, evolving and re-inventing itself. John Butler refuses to rest on his laurels, and kudos to him for that. If artists penetrating the ‘commercial’ market are opening the eyes of the general consensus to more important issues, rather than teaching our nine year olds to grind up on prison poles, don tragic leotards as an excuse for clothing and wear coke cans parading as hair accessories, then fuck, all the better for it.

John Butler talks more about the history of April Uprising here : http://www.vimeo.com/10553523

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YKB frontman Michael Tomlinson goes stark for the band’s new vid and several hundred teenage girls get taken away for cardiac arrest.

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Edit from Matt

Just got sent a different video from Dew Process. Apparently the above clip is the ‘Alternate Version,’ presumably because it’s less likely to get rotation on MTV etc. This one features less nudity and smoking, so if cardiac arrest is a serious concern then perhaps this is the version for you.

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