Madeleine Laing – Editor
As soon as I suggest to the other past and current contributors that we do this list, I regret it. How could anyone feel qualified to judge that? But being the longest running Aussie music blog still technically operational, we felt like we had to do something.
Me and Grace both confessed our fears that our lists would end up being ‘a bunch of Melbourne shit from 2014’. Hers turned out very diverse and thoughtful (frankly, rude). But mine… well, you’ll see. I guess it gets to a point where you know what you like.
There are many great live bands, fantastic EPs, or culturally important acts that aren’t on this list. But all I can say is these are the Australian albums, after ten years of listening to almost exclusively Australian music, that have had the biggest effect on me. The ones that feel emblematic, one way or another, of the decade.
The Ocean Party – Soft Focus (2014) & Light Weight (2015)
I couldn’t separate these albums, even though they’re quite different, because I fell in love with them both in the same all-consuming way. Because that’s what it’s always felt like for me to really love an album, a big overwhelming, and obsessive, crush. You wanna bring it up in conversation all the time. You lie around listening to it all day, dreaming about nothing in particular. When you’re 21 and 22 you really can feel like someone made a record just for you. Or two records, even.
Making the mundane transcendent is probably the one thing that unites if not all, then most, of the records on this list. The Ocean Party did it the best. They wrote years of our lives and sang them back to us. And everything was more beautiful that way. Self-awareness mixed with a healthy bit of self-obsession, the anxiety, the pleasure of apathy, the endless shades of youth. They’re also maybe the last ones who’ll be able to do it so freely. As the reality of the world’s doom becomes apparent, and every day is an endless battle between becoming hysterical and becoming numb, will we still be able to take pleasure in aimlessness? Not that OP were ever slackers, their songs always had a point, just the specifics never seemed as important as the sound of a few very talented friends coming together to make them, hopelessly smitten young people coming together to listen. Or maybe it’ll all make even more sense now. ‘I went out. I thought what else could I do?’
I’ve written this over and over, because I feel so much and need to say something, but I know I’m not the person to say it right. Zac Denton’s death was so senseless, so sad, it’s impossible to accept. Impossible to let go, impossible to express. He meant so much to so many people like me, who didn’t know him. It seems wrong to say you grieve for someone you didn’t know, but grief is the only word we have for this kind emptiness, anger, sadness. No upbeat note to end on. What can we do but go back to the records, remembering him.
Boomgates – Double Natural (2012)
This album sounds like the bits of Australia that don’t make you wanna cry blood. It’s all sweeping plains, rain clouds coming over the horizon, good bloke energy from Hughes and Huntley. The endless train tracks, chugging along, country vibe. Originally released on Brisbane record label Bedroom Suck, Double Natural reached cult status almost immediately, and was finally re-released last year. By then it already felt like a classic. It’s cathartic, the songs seem to revolve around giving up control, taking what’s coming. Most of all this album sounds ‘real’; it’s what we’re crying out for, now that life’s confusing and fake as fuck.
Sarah Mary Chadwick – Sugar Still Melts in the Rain (2018)
Aquarius and Gemini is my favourite SMC song. Because I’m a romantic coward. Roses Always Die was something I’d never heard before, and breaks my heart to this day. But as a whole record, I can’t go past Sugar Still Melts…. It’s record about grief full of wry genius, retaining some of the perfect simplicity of Roses Always Die, with the bombast of a rocket taking off and scorching a whole city behind it. There’s something defiant about Chadwick’s desperation on this record, saying she’s given up but is still fighting out of muscle memory and it’s so powerful. You want her to win, to finally win.
Total Control – Henge Beat (2011)
I was thinking about whether this spot should be Typical System or this record. Being a consistently late adopter, Typical System was the first Total Control album I properly listen to. ‘Flesh War’ and ‘Glass’ and ‘Black Spring’ are some of my favourite songs. It’s more sophisticated maybe. But then I listened to this record again and my heart raced just like it used to when I would walk around Brisbane listening to it over and over all day long, feeling indestructible and deep. The way that guitar line in ‘Carpet Rash’ gets under your skin, feels like it could rip you apart. The edginess and desperation of the whole thing. And god bless every other band that came after trying to do the same thing, because how could you not?
Angie – Shyness (2017)
This album made me insufferable. ‘Hey guys, have you heard of the piano???’ Truly it felt like discovering a whole new sound in that very old instrument, used in this lowfi, punk way with Angie’s strong but straining voice. Her lyrics are dark and claustrophobic while the sounds around them are confident and rapturous. I love how it often stops and starts, the heavy clanking of the keys, the physicality of her playing. Shyness is a whole world, a complete, tactile record.
Dick Diver – Calendar Days (2013)
Everything Dick Diver did (does?) sounded so good and so easy it’s hard to pick a standout record. I mean, New Start Again kicked off a sound that’s arguably dominated Australian music for the last ten years. But Calendar Days has aged better for me, and it’s got unbeatable jauntiness I often turn to in these trying times. ‘I turn my lemons into slices, and I put them in my beer.’
Alex Cameron – Forced Witness (2017)
I said all I need to say about this record when it came out, but Cameron’s (still very good) new album has driven me even harder back to this one and its dirtbag ecstasy, its pure smut and groove.
Mere Women – Your Town (2014)
Mere Women have ended up on a lot more mature and thought-out musical retrospectives than this one, but Your Town threw me up against a wall. And there I stayed, riveted by the power of these crooked, tough and nails melodies and Amy Wilson’s incredible voice. It turned female desire and vulnerability into a weapon in a way I’d never heard before, and haven’t heard done so convincingly since.
Heart Beach – Kiss Your Face (2016)
Finally a record about being in love. Kiss Your Face has got jagged edges and angst, but at the heart it’s a low-key pop masterpiece. Maybe it’s the two in-sync vocalists, but almost every song seems anthemic, making you wanna join in. This is an essentially hopeful, fun record to pull you out of a hole, and we need as much of that as we can get.
Lowtide – Lowtide (2014)
The hands-down best shoegaze album from anywhere in the last ten years? Don’t say things like that, you hyperbolic fool? Yes to both!
Honourable mentions because the list couldn’t just keep going on forever:
Ciggie Witch – Classic Connection (2016)
Scraps – TTNIK (2016)
Eddy Current Suppression Ring – Rush to Relax (2010)
Totally Mild – Down Time (2015)
California Girls – Desire (2016)
Greg Stone – Senior Contributor, also runs great record label Feral Media
TV Colours – Purple Skies, Toxic River (2013)
The elements that make up the complete package of TV Colours, brainchild of Canberra musician Bobby Kill, have all been meticulously crafted and considered. First and foremost, the music. Brimming with fuzzed out, lo-fi punk anthems, the overdriven guitars, primitive drum machine rhythms and scuzzy, distorted vocals combining with a youthful carelessness that belies the purposeful intent. Then there is the blurry, VHS-style album artwork (a better visual representation of the music I cannot recall), not to
mention the pitch-perfect font used for the band name and album title. And finally, the various images that would pop up in press releases and on social media sites that added further depth to the mythology of the band. One such image was used as the cover art for their eponymous 2011 7” single.
All of these perfectly stylised elements makes Purple Skies, Toxic River seem like it was plucked from another time, while contradictorily sounding like it could only exist in the modern day. Imagining this as a primarily solo effort by a bedroom artist with a penchant for nostalgia makes it no less authentic. Quite the contrary; the lyrical themes are universal and perfectly encapsulate the late-teen experience, while the music is that final summer before the depressing weight of adulthood comes bearing down.
Reuben Ingall – Dealt (2012)
Reuben Ingall is a musical oddity. His body of work flitters from drone and noise experiments to abstract electronics, to jokey mashups and beyond. But the area of his musical output I find most intriguing is the glitchy, guitar-based songs on releases such as 2010’s Don’t Give Up, 2015’s Microclimates, and the quintessential example, the beguiling 2012 EP, Dealt.
Opener ‘To Lose’ starts out like some sparse home recording before erupting into a cacophony of heavily manipulated guitar glitches that sound as if they are heralding the apocalypse.
This feeling of impending doom is one I can’t shake when I listen to this EP. I have visions of some barren, post-apocalyptic world where this lone musician is making somber, futuristic ballads on an old guitar and beaten-up laptop, fueled by a car battery and other electronic bric-a-brac scavenged over time since the big collapse. It’s the modern folk music soundtrack to a real life vision of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road.
Making – High Life (2015)
The taut and ferocious full-length debut from one of Sydney’s best live bands. Highlife was the climactic conclusion to Making’s brief, but hopefully not complete, history. With their impressive debut EP and 2 subsequent singles, the band had fans salivating for what they would deliver next. And deliver it did.
A decidedly darker affair, Highlife takes the technical complexity and razor sharp rhythms of their previous releases to new heights, this time with little room to come up for air. The pummeling low-end of the drums expertly contrasts with the metallic bass and searing guitar melodies, while the vocals shift from the detached, deadpan delivery on ‘Dream Job’, to the throat scraping catharsis on ‘Come to Me’. Making offered a new reason to rejoice for fans of My Disco, Ohana and others of this lineage. Let’s hope Highlife is not their swan song.
Kirin J Callinan – Embracism (2013)
Golden Blonde – Gwen (2013)
Angel Eyes – Final Fare (2013)
Tropical Fuck Storm – A Laughing Death in Meatspace (2018)
Hyde – Ox Hill (2017)
Kane Ikin – Modern Pressure (2016)
Tangents – Stateless (2016)
Melissa Tan – Past Editor
The Middle East – I Want That You Are Always Happy (2011)
There isn’t much about this record or the Middle East’s premature split that hasn’t been lamented about on the internet already. (Mess & Noise’s message boards. RIP.)
Sadly, the band’s ascent arrived as quickly as their dissolve. The hype, coupled with rumours of fragmented dynamics within the group proved too much of a Sisyphean task. Less than four months after the long awaited arrival of this record, the band issued an elusive statement announcing their split.
I Want That You Are Always Happy isn’t a groundbreaking record. It’s happy/sad collection of songs; with a few moments of jest. Its inclusion here is a purely a personal one. This album bookmarked a significant, turbulent time in my early 20s. A lot of people I speak to still talk about this record, and I like to think its collective reception had just as much to do with its cathartic value as its honesty.
The Middle East will long be romanticized; there are the tours that never happened, the follow-up projects by former members that always stood in the band’s shadow. This band never departed, and never really arrived. Yet, I Want That You Are Always Happy was the Middle East’s own final quietus; one that remains a perpetual codicil marking its influence on many bands that followed in an important decade for Australian music.
As seminal records do, and perhaps in a way some artists hope for – some records continue to exist in a the private spaces we return to, over and over again. For me anyway, that needs no explanation.
D.D Dumbo – Utopia Defeated (2016)
It’s a weeknight at Melbourne’s Worker’s Club in 2013. Mirroring the camoflage backdrop painted behind the stage, the crowd are congregated in the dirge of comfort; the back of the room. Oliver Perry’s one man band walks on stage, in a bright blue tee and tropical shorts. Given the general monochrome mood and surplus of ‘dolewave’ bands frequenting venues in the area at the time, it’s a welcome contrast. There’s a moment of nervous energy as he fiddles with his guitar, and records a vocal loop (the start of ‘Walrus’). He launches into a soaring devotional, replete with microtonal hooks and now, everyone is paying attention.
I first heard D.D Dumbo’s Tropical Oceans EP after a tip off from Tommy Lukaitis (All I Do is Listen – another now defunct but important Aus music journal). Utopia Defeated is more rounded at the edges than his original EP, but still an extended limb attached to Perry’s songwriting beast.
At the time, Perry was living an hour and a half out of Melbourne, in Newstead – a small town just out of Castlemaine. His room and home studio was attached to the back of an old horse stable. WTH’s previous photography contributor Alan Weedon caught the VLine up and spent the day exploring Castlemaine with Perry (still one of my favourite photo essays – view it here). A few months later, Perry was playing to a room of hundreds at Pitchfork’s music festival in Paris.
Sure, the isolated songwriter narrative comes with sentimental posturing – but Utopia Defeated is devoid of that. His reluctance to really attach himself to one particular sound works. It’s this reluctance that makes D.D Dumbo’s sound striking, but never brash. The album is part-existential commentary, part-humorous quip, with Perry telling stories about riding horses in Mexico, UFOs and epicurean dilemmas like Foie Gras.
There are moments that really crack open lobotomy of Perry’s ambitious vision; the extended woodwind jam on ‘King Franco Picasso’, the bouncy pop-strung sensibilities of ‘Satan’ and ‘Brother’, and closing track ‘Oyster’. Mali’s Ali Farka Toure and Tanzanian Hukwe Zawose’s blues/folk nuances paddle in and out through Perry’s cerebral landscapes, and ‘Alihukwe’ – a reverential nod to his heroes, is a prime example of Perry’s best work. Utopia Defeated is an opus of a record that also doubles as a chaotic, self-help audiobook. I really hope Perry gets back to making music soon.
Sampa The Great – The Return (2019)
From 2015’s The Great Mixtape, right through to this year’s The Return, Sampa The Great’s namesake has foreshadowed her trajectory. The Return is a dazzling palette of hip-hop, soul and spoken word. If The Bird and the BEE9 (2017) was Sampa Tembo’s guilding inquiry into race, then The Return is a note to resilience, cultural dislocation and the restorative journey ‘home’.
Spending her childhood between Botswana and Zambia, Tembo moved to California at 19. She moved to Sydney to study music production, before packing up to Melbourne. In an NPR interview, Sampa mentioned she learnt more about herself in her experiences “outside of Africa rather than in it”. There’s a thing where artists from minority groups become sudden messiahs for due to a lack of representation. Sampa’s long vexed these themes through her music without relying on aesthetic or excess to carry her message.
Australian ‘hip hop’ (a loose term) at the turn of the decade had turned into a boys-club circle jerk, with lyrical / nutritional content comparable to the bottom end of a Tip Top loaf. Munkimuk and 1200 Techniques set the pace for thoughtful hip-hop through the 90s and early 00s; and part of Sampa’s greatness has been restoring the narrative.
Tembo’s execution is forever sharp, wrapped in equal parts triumph and restlessness. There’s the fanfare of ‘Final Form’ – cradled by a sample of The Sylvers’ ‘Stay Away From Me’, as well as more tender moments lent by collaborators on ‘Freedom’, and on opening track ‘Mwana’, featuring Sampa’s sister Mwanje. If there’s one track worth your ears on this album it’s, ‘The Return’. The nine minute epic, also featuring Alien, Jace XL and Thando, ends with a stirring, spoken word piece in Somali by vocalist / Mogadishu native Whosane.
The album’s long roll call of collaborators (there are over twelve in total) are no strangers to the diaspora condition (including South African / Sri Lankan artist Ecca Vandal, Zimbabwe-born Thando and Krown, who left conflict in South Sudan as a teen).
The Return is Sampa’s prodigal note-to-self, but it’s also a record for the rest of Us.
The Ocean Party – Soft Focus (2013)
30/70 – Elevate (2013)
Aldous Harding – Party (2017) *originally from Lyleton, NZ but still a Melbourne transplant forever.
Big Scary – Not Art (2013)
Kins – Kins (2013)
NO ZU – Life (2012)
Royal Headache – Royal Headache (2012)
Grace Pashley – Past Contributor, current Head Honcho at Brisbane’s 4ZZZfm
Mod Con – Modern Convenience (2018)
If there is an Illuminati secretly controlling the world I hope it’s Mod Con: the Melbourne Trio of Total Rock Lords. But the world is terrible so I know that can’t be true. Ferocious live and recorded, frontwoman Erica Dunn is one of the most prolific songwriters and musos of this decade as the primary songwriter for Mod Con and her brilliant solo output Palm Springs, plus lead shredwitch of Tropical Fuck Storm and lending her supreme wail to the backing vocals of Harmony, all of whom put out excellent records this decade too. Anyways Mod Con rule.
The Goon Sax – We’re Not Talking (2018)
Love a band whose sophomore gets past the hype, and a band who were struck by success pretty young but didn’t buckle under the weight of other people’s expectations. I’ve loved hearing their evolution with references across the DIY spectrum from The Clean to Clag, the new stuff they’ve been playing live is exciting as well. Whether it’s as The Goon Sax or something else, these three individuals are going to be doing exciting stuff in the 2020s.
Laura Jean – Devotion (2018)
Ugh. Just. I just love every song on this record. Awarding this one the most perfect folk-to-pop pivot of the decade.
Blank Realm – Illegals in Heaven (2015)
This was tough, because at least one of the five Blank Realm releases from this decade had to be in this list but WHICH ONE?? I settled on Illegals in Heaven because that was my gateway album into the Realm. I’d heard about them but never made the dive until every single song on this record smacked me in the face and made me pay attention. And I’m glad I did.
The Stevens – Good (2017)
Great, actually. I had this album on repeat for almost all of 2018 and the licks are still stuck in my head. Many bands spun have out of The Stevens by way of shared sound or shared members but The Stevens will be the genesis of that sound for me. Fucking decade lists are hard so fight me.
Madboots – 2hard (2018)
I have heard the term “acerbic wit” doled upon extremely mediocre men but the phrase should only be used to describe the one-liners across this EP. Still one of the best acts you can see live in Brisbane, can’t not include the inspiration for my new life creed and only goal from the track ‘Headstone’: I just want a really big headstone when I die.
Two Steps on the Water – Having pop punk feelings in a country western body (2016)
The eponymous line “thunderstorm for one” from the single off Two Steps on the Water’s debut EP still regularly enters my head without warning, such are the song and hook-writing chops of June Jones. Sadly, they’re no longer making music in this form (although June Jones is putting out excellent solo music) but Two Steps remains a beautiful mid-decade moment.
Total Control – Typical System (2014)
I put on Typical System when I need a good anti-apathy lashing. It’s for when forces beyond your control are causing strong emotions, this decade has been cause for so many of these and I’ve put this album on when I’m feeling mad and helpless. It feels like a modern soundtrack to Wake in Fright, classic, Australian, doomed.
Twerps – Twerps (2011)
Remember when calling a band “dolewave” could get you punched in the throat? Whatever. Twerps forever.
Nai Palm – Needle Paw (2017)
I still regularly think, how does she do that? With her voice? When finalising the track list for Needle Paw she literally wrote a letter to the family of recently-deceased David Bowie and was like hey can I cover Blackstar even though you’re not letting anyone else release covers of his stuff and they were like. Sure. ???? Ballsy stuff. Didn’t get into much else of the neo-soul movement Nai Palm really drove with Hiatus Kiayote in the mid 10s, but this one has stuck with me.
Scraps – TTNIK (2016)
HABITS – Ugly Cry (2016)
Lisa Salvo – I Could Have Been A Castle (2014)
Seekae – The Worry (2014)
Jaala – Hard Hold (2015)
Lower Plenty – Life/Thrills (2014)
California Girls – Desire (2016)
David Payne – Past Photography Editor
Ernest Ellis – Kings Canyon (2011).
Ernest Ellis and The Panamas opened the last decade with the wonderful Kings Canyon. Probably the most worn out vinyl I own and one that I cannot listen to below 11. I would also add that around the release of the record I shot one of my favourite ever live sets with these guys at the East Brunswick Hotel. I didn’t know much about them that night but their energy on stage left a scar in my mind that remains today.
The Ocean Party – Social Clubs (2012).
A large chunk of the last decade of my life has been sound tracked by the music of The Ocean Party. The ups and downs of the everyday have been explored by a bunch of mates that moved to Melbourne and lived the dream. I can relate. It’s been a comforting and at times discomforting experience. The Ocean Party have a very worthy discography but 2018’s The Oddfellows’ Hall has a special place in my heart for personal reasons. For this list of things however, The Social Clubs takes my record of the decade and is an album that will forever be a historical reference point of Melbourne life around that time and one that reflects the best of hopeful young lads making beautiful music out of the mundane.
Ainslie Wills – All You Have Is All You Need (2019).
One of the strongest voices I’ve ever heard and an incredible performer, Ainslie Wills released her second long player this year and it instantly felt familiar and warming to my soul. I remember first hearing Ainslie’s music and having the breath knocked out of me. Ten years later it still does. All You Have Is All You Need is a beautiful record and a perfect way to close the decade.
Emma Louise – Vs Head Vs Heart (2013).
Courtney Barnet – Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit (2015).
The Avalanches – Wildflower (2016).
Stella Donnelly – Beware of the Dogs (2019).
Robbie Ingrisano – MAPCAST Host
Gotye – Making Mirrors (2011)
It’s only while I’m writing this that I made a last minute switch in choosing this over Alpine’s Yuck, although it would have been a less obvious choice I realised what separated Gotye from the rest of the pack. While (sorry for taking aim at you, Alpine) other breakthrough artists got warmed our playlists throughout the decade I just feel like once you get your feet wet in a Gotye album, the element of unpredictability in what elements will hit you next make listening to this so much more of a journey. Twists and turns from turbulent love ballads adorned with carefully crafted sonic inflections to his signature backbeat driven motown throwbacks. Every time I listen to Gotye I wonder if he and Phil Collins hang out in a groupchat somehwere. But Seriously…
Tame Impala – Currents (2015)
My opening statement about this is a disclaimer that I absolutely hated Tame Impala before this album. Couldn’t stand them. Some John Lennon impersonator doing derivative psyche rock. Lame Impala. Get this garbage off my iPod. When Currents came out I had to make a choice over whether to remain insufferably narrow minded or admit to myself that this was in fact a masterpiece of reinvented psyche pop, futurism as perceived from the past. Something of a Supertramp swallowing all their pills before passing through the gates space rock odyssey. I’ll forever be listening to this album.
The Chats, Get This In Ya (2017)
Of all the albums I picked this stands out as the most culturally significant of them all and in 100 years time (If we’re not all up to our necks in water) will serve as a document of Australia today more than anything else released this decade.
Lyricially off the bat it could sound like a bit of a pisstake album, but taken less superficially there absolutely nothing wrong with this record, these guys can play. For me they filled the vacant space left by Eddy Current, and burn me at the stake for saying it but I get more of a kick listening to these guys than them, it’s just more relatable, it makes me feel good. More than it being an aussie pub punk rock album, it’s a crossover record, If you’ve ever walked around town on school holidays as a teenager in Australia you’ll know where these guys are coming from. You don’t need to be into pub rock to get lyrics like “I spent my last money on a sick-pack, now stuck in the jungga with no way back” & “I’m on smoko, so leave me alone”, its the great Australian album of the decade. Change my mind.
Mangelwurzel – Gary (2016)
Hungry Kids Of Hungary – Escapades (2011)
Donny Benet – Don’t Hold Back (2011)
Jack Ladder – Hurtsville (2011)
Palm Springs – Palm Springs & Friends (2018)
The Ocean Party – Soft Focus (2014)
Methyl Ethyl – Everything Is Forgotten (2017)
By Bec Capp
Thank you to Wadawurrung Elders for their powerful Welcome To Country and smoking ceremony, to the Nolan family, and of course Aunty Meredith for having me for this wild and special one-of-a-kind party.
MMF’19 was my eleventh one, and my twentieth time in the Meredith Supernatural Amphitheatre. I also haven’t been in two years and was very excited to be heading back to the ‘sup despite having completely torn my ACL (knee) a few weeks ago.
Although the skies were grey and Shania Twain’s Man I Feel Like a Woman! was the housekeeping song (I feel so womanly when I clean, don’t you?) – Meredith this year was a very sunny time. If you sold your ticket for an insanely cheap price, be warned, these photos may sting.
Wonderwall was pretty fun, not even ironically, and it was even more fun to watch Liam Gallagher hate the fact that this was the best time everyone had during his set. DJ Koze played Pick Up at the end of his insanely great set, bringing the Amphitheatre down – shout out to the woman who brought an Operator (He Doesn’t Call Me) phone prop. Jesswar was a boss, Julia Jacklin tugged on those heart strings and Logic1000 was a good dance time. Other highlights include Scott & Charlene’s Wedding, River Yarra, Christine Anu and someone bringing a cauliflower thing-on-a-stick.
My limited movement this year meant no treks up the hill for sunset or any campsite adventures, though I really hope you still enjoy this photo review as much as I did my twentieth time in the ‘sup. xox
Some people like to carve a personality out of a distaste for nostalgia. Those perpetually forward-moving people who always know where they’re going next. They’re probably immune to the charms of a band like Brisbane’s Dumb Things. Not me baby. I’m the make myself sick scrolling through Instagram back to 2014 kind. I’m a, constantly second guessing decisions I made years ago, wondering if I should move back to a home that isn’t there anymore, little bitch. And Time Again hooked me good.
Dumb Things wear their Twerps Dick Diver Ocean Party influences on their sleeves, which is good cuz they sound like those bands and plenty others, but I’ll probably always prefer a catchy melody and a sweet vocal over some brand new noise. And they put the most Go-Betweensy sounding song first up just to ward off anything who doesn’t like bands that sound like other bands.
On the surface this album is jangly and sweet, but it’s held together with a seam of regret. Time Again, is, sure enough, concerned with the passage of time. Watching it go by why you stay in the same place. On first track ‘Nights’ they’re briefly considering burning it all down, but the sentiment doesn’t last long. ‘Carpark Daydream,’ is about watching all your friends live their dreams while you’re going nowhere. In ‘Suburbs’, they’re trying to convince us that if they’re moving back to their parents’ house, it’s just for the summer. Even speeding down the highway on ‘Crash Barriers’, the scenery doesn’t change. Roadkill and BPs pass by on an unending loop. It’s a decidedly un-beautiful setting for the only real love song on the album, lyrics morbidly romantic for a song built out of twinkly guitar and breathy vocals; ‘tacky shrines / for beautiful lives / to sit beside you / oh what a way to die’.
‘Waiting Out’ is one of the more simple songs on the records, but the mumbled vocals and soothing refrain of ‘it’s alright, I don’t mind / I’m just, waiting out my time,’ turning apathy into a kind of virtue, make it one you want to come back to. ‘Time Again’, the final track, leaves us on a deceptively melancholic note, ‘if I could have my time again/ I’d do it right’. But it’s a blissful kind of melancholy. There’s no angst in lines like, ‘another book I didn’t read / another town I didn’t quite get to leave’. Just the inevitability of failure that comes from not trying.
It’s this sentiment that, for me, makes this feel most feel a Queensland album. It’s not a conscious choice to stay, you didn’t get to leave, couldn’t find the time. But when you stop to think about it, hey, it’s not so bad. That’s the conflict at the heart of this record, and of a lot of people who end up staying in a town they thought they’d eventually leave. Feelings of regret and acceptance play equal part in this lovely bittersweet album.
Time Again is available digitally on Brisbane label Coolin’ By Sound here. The vinyl will be out on November 22, for all the Daddies Warbucks out there.
If Australian shoegaze-ish music is a spectrum, and on one end you’ve got, say, Lowtide, Hobart’s Bert Shirt are on the other end. The ol’ ‘wall of sound’ is like the walls in The Cube (1997). Covered in spikes and fast approaching.
They’re definitely noise-y, more so live than on this EP, where they seemed to have smoothed the edges a little bit. Like, they keep the vocals largely clean, rather than the joyfully discordant yelling that’ll greet you at a Bert Shirt gig. But it’s hard to capture that kind of chaos on record, and they’ve done a great job of making something loud, fun and inconspicuously beautiful.
The lyrics touch on the kind of suburban themes that the EP’s title suggests – shopping centres and bad friends and missing the good party – there’s a healthy bit of angst to match the razor-sharp guitar on ‘Décor’. ‘Ocean Junction’s ironic character study of a linen-suited Tom Selleck devotee reflects the band’s ‘80s influences, ‘got my sleeves rolled up for the yacht club luncheon, pants so tight some things won’t function’. Closer ‘Late Night Shopping’ is a six minute wander from fluorescent-lit dreamscape to droning synth jam, vocals becoming more stretched and frantic.
The thing that gives Bert Shirt their spark is how good a time they seem to be having. The riff on ‘It’s 6pm do you know where you are?’ made me laugh out loud, it’s so perfectly balls-to-the-wall, and the whole EP is built around wacky guitar and melodically-centring bass. It feels very Hobart, this mix of serious craft and a ‘will try anything’ attitude.
Pick up a Bert Shirt tape here (they’re pink!) and keep an eye out if they tour near you.
Melbourne producer Jim Sellars returns with a new album under new moniker, Yunzero. Ode To Mud, the debut release as Yunzero, follows his beguiling 2016 effort Ox Hill under the name Hyde. The name change it seems was one of convenience, opting to move away from the popular (as far as musical artist names goes), Hyde, to a somewhat more google friendly choice. But never fear, Sellars is still dealing in the distinct kaleidoscopic sound collage of his former project. Cultivating the post modernism of Oneohtrix Point Never and the spaced out productions of Shackleton in an unlikely ecosystem of world music samples, spacious field recordings, and unconventional rhythmic elements.
Long gone are the beat scene ties of his even earlier project, Electric Sea Spider; Although if you chart the interesting evolution of Sellars’ music over the years you can hear hints of his current output as far back as 2014 with his final Electric Sea Spider release, Ten Hunters. This release marked a new direction, one that spawned the complex and impossibly layered sound worlds that have become synonymous with Sellars’ work.
Ode To Mud offers more blissfully saturated sounds, but also finds Sellars delving into more hypnotic, ambient territory on tracks such as ‘Eye’, ‘Orchard 2’ and album closer, ‘Ode’. When asked how he decides what sonic direction to pursue Sellars notes that it is largely based on mood and the found sound sources he uses to create much of his music. He notes that “there isn’t much of a template for how I go about this, which is fun, but it means that a lot of end products sound different to each other, hence a lot of quieter tracks”.
With the new moniker, comes a new label with Ode To Mud being released by new comers .jpeg Artefacts. A label which, despite its relative infancy, seems to have a similarly adventurous spirit, its catalogue blurring the lines of sample-based sound art, vapourwave and lo-fi bedroom production.
Ode To Mud is available digitally and as a limited edition cassette here. Do yourself a favour and enjoy a little mind-melting sound exploration courtesy of Yunzero now.
Melbourne band Mallee Songs released Suburban Horse, their quiet and focused third record, late last year on Dusty Tracks, a label run by Lucas Harwood (King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, Atolls). The dark-folk outfit is led by Lucas’ brother, Michael Skinner, whose wry, melancholic songwriting exhibits shades of David Berman, Jason Molina and Galaxie 500. The new album brings some Tex-Mex polish to the band’s introspective style, with flashes of trumpet, piano and pedal steel rounding out Michael’s fingerpicked melodies.
In March, Michael travelled to Palestine’s West Bank with SkatePal, a UK-based charity that runs skateboarding classes for local kids, building skateparks and bringing in equipment. It’s an attempt to provide a semblance of normal life for Palestinian children, who suffer disproportionately under the brutal Israeli occupation. Kids as young as 11 have been arbitrarily detained, beaten and shot; just the other day, a nine-year-old boy was killed by an Israeli sniper. The journey to and from school is hazardous. Random attacks by bored IDF soldiers have been reported, and the route home is regularly disrupted by gates and checkpoints. Schools themselves can be the target of IDF actions, and an appalling number of children experience conflict-related trauma.
Suburban Horse single ‘Drinking the Sea’ was written as ‘an expression of solidarity with the Palestinian struggle for freedom’. Set somewhere in Palestine (‘The pull of the ocean/Rust in the well/Endless white houses/Stretch out on the hill’), the song describes a dawn raid on an Arab family – a random act of terror that’s become routine across the occupied territories:
I saw a crowd around dawn
They gathered and swarmed
Tore all the wood from your door
And then you were gone
Dragged through the fog on your back
The awful sound of the rifle crack
Michael shot a video to accompany the track while travelling around the West Bank – from Asira, his village base outside the northern city of Nablus, to Ramallah and Hebron. Alongside familiar images of guard towers, razor wire, armed foot patrols and long queues at checkpoints are scenes from the old city, the skateparks, hillside bonfires and quiet olive groves outside of town. It’s an eloquent summary of the strange and cruel dilemma of life under occupation.
I spoke to Michael about his time in Palestine, writing ‘Drinking the Sea’, and the political scope of protest music.
How did you get involved with SkatePal, and what were your impressions of the project? What do you think it meant to the kids? I love that girls are a big part of the program. There’s a great video on your Instagram of one little girl in particular who skates like a demon.
I found out about SkatePal by following similar projects on social media, and I applied when their volunteer applications came up in late 2018. They’ve had some great exposure recently, particularly after an episode of ViceLand’s Post-Radical, a series documenting outsider skate scenes around the world.
I did have some reservations about participating in “voluntourism” or whatever you might call it, and there are for sure NGOs out there that operate as a more palatable form of imperialism. Plus there’s the long and recent history of Western intervention in the Middle East, so you have to ask yourself, am I just contributing to a colonial project? Maybe you can’t fully escape this, but after a point you’ve got to ask if, on balance, the thing has a positive impact.
I really think SkatePal does, for a few reasons. They’ve done a great job of partnering with local organisations in Palestine; they appeared on the scene just at the right moment when the first few kids were getting into skating in the West Bank; and they’re part of a broader movement working to push skateboarding away from its hyper-macho, sometimes weirdly libertarian roots. New skate scenes have been cropping up all over – across Africa and the Middle East, in Cuba, even in Gaza – and most of them have involved Westerners bringing over gear or helping build DIY spots; at this stage it just seems necessary to kick things off.
Plus, somewhere like the West Bank the only practical way to get boards in is via the monthly changeover of volunteers. Israel makes it extremely difficult to bring equipment into the West Bank in bulk; SkatePal once spent four years waiting for the approval of 30 complete skateboards to be sent into Palestine. As you can imagine, this means the project has had to remain outwardly apolitical to stay afloat.
The skatepark in Asira felt just like one at home; it had quiet moments and sometimes it was really packed. There were a core group of kids – mostly girls – who went along as often as they could. The girl in the video is Sedra (check out her Instagram, @sedrathefearless), and she’s definitely the star of the park. She absolutely shreds! She can drop in from this one spot where I didn’t see anyone else go: a two-foot vertical drop into a really zippy quarter pipe that shoots you out over a flat section and then off another five-foot drop!
What was your impression of daily life in the West Bank?
Normal life persists as much as it can under occupation. People have a rich and generous culture they want to preserve and share. You can buy delicious food and a locally brewed beer in Ramallah. I milled about in cafes, barber shops and gyms in Hebron. The pace of life is quite slow and relaxing most of the time, everyone seems to know everyone else in their home cities and towns and will welcome you into these social circles without a moment’s hesitation. There seemed to be a real building boom in Nablus, and most people drive late-model cars. If there’s a wedding or two on in town, you’ll be invited at least one and it won’t matter if you accidentally stumble into the other. People study law and comparative literature and medicine. And they do all of this in the face of the world’s longest running military occupation.
Even in Asira, a village that, on the face of it, may seem relatively unchanged by the occupation, the IDF still carries out its routine campaign of targeted violence and intimidation. For example, a few days before the first group of SkatePal volunteers arrived in March this year, the IDF arrested Abu Ali, one of the village’s most talented skaters, and hauled him off to an undisclosed military prison. As usual, they raided his family home in the middle of the night, trashed the place, and left his parents terrified. We found out shortly before I left that he was being held for three months in administrative detention, without trial. A teenage skateboarder poses no threat to the IDF, of course, and it sounds like they don’t even bother justifying these kidnappings on their own absurd terms half the time. It strikes me as just the blasé operation of the military-industrial complex, finely tuned to constantly punish a minority population. I’ve just seen on Instagram, though, that Abu Ali has just been released and the whole village of Asira is celebrating his return.