With a stadium-sized statement that cuts through the fragile count-in strum. A burst of crunchy guitar grandeur that’s short-lived as an equally-striking stab of self-deprecation steps up: “I hate myself for feeling like I’m burning up”. So goes the opening thirty seconds of Robert Muinos′ new song “Weeks At All” The opening track from his latest EP3 from the Melbourne singer-songwriter’s forthcoming.
Recalling both the bare-boned expression and burst/settle contrast of Jason Molina, “Weeks At All” is a raw, cathartic-chasing journey through pain, pity and frustration. In a constant state of flux between knife-edge fragility and worry-weighted collapse, Muinos steers the song through both recalled scenes and blunt pick-me-downs, aimed both indirectly (“let it out”) and as more targeted blows (“your hate comes pouring like a waterfall”). All leading to a line that equally serves as a smirk-and-a-shrug that undos all before it and as a brutally poignant self-summary: “I run away and sing my little songs.” then the huge guitar break, in this amazing release. Muinos — who is also currently a member of soul outfit Saskwatch and pop-weirdos Dorsal Fins.
All songs written by Robert Muinos. Drums and backing vocals by Jim Lawrie. Bass guitar by Tom Pettit. Keyboards by Olaf Scott. Guitar, singing, recording and mixing by Robert Muinos. Rocorded at The Curtin in March 2017.
Angie McMahon‘s songs were written for live performances. Her captivating presence and soulful, warm vocals transfixes the audience. She writes lyrics that capture life experiences in her own unique way.
Her debut single ‘Slow Mover’ is a song that etched itself into the back of my mind after first hearing it live. Weeks later it would randomly pop into the forefront of my mind. Maybe it’s the way the song slowly builds, or that infectious chorus, or the fried chicken lyric. Probably best if you just hit play.
‘Slow Mover’ is a compelling introduction to what this young singer-songwriter is capable of.
Before she started putting out music under her own name, Carla Dal Forno cut her teeth on scratchy lo-fi punk and murky experimental soundscapes. On her debut full-length, You Know What It’s Like, and its follow-up EP, The Garden, she plays with a fusion of the two, marrying pointed urgency with an atmospheric foreboding. Her music is characterized by a pervasive haunting, unfurling in smoke wisps and snaking base lines. Like a hypnotic soundtrack to the witching hour, where elements of sedulous noise, experimental pop, cheery dark wave and gentle drones artfully coalesce into a thoroughly fantastic listen!
Songs like the creeping “What You Gonna Do Now?” and the bruised “Make Up Talk” explore not the unsettling unknown but the sort of everyday monsters that surround us,
Alex Lahey was going to draw comparisons to Courtney Barnett. She’s a young singer-songwriter from Melbourne who, initially and somewhat incorrectly, comes across like a witty slacker-rocker similar to Barnett. Lahey’s recent debut I Love You Like A Brother boldly underscored the fact that she’s onto something very different. Songs like “Lotto In Reverse” and “I Haven’t Been Taking Care Of Myself” burst into huge, cathartic choruses more akin to ‘90s and ‘00s alt-rock than anything in today’s indie sphere. Lahey’s got a way of capturing the particular anxieties and frustrations of the listless years of post-college life. And while her songs convey all that, those giant hooks tell a different story: the triumphant and defiant part where you kick the door down to life’s next phase.
Three kids from the sunny shores of Sydney, Australia. Bloods have been peddling their garage-punk-pop tunes since 2011, playing alongside bands like Dum Dum Girls, Redd Kross, DZ Deathrays &more.
“These kids have so much spunk and spirit that it’s addicting. A genuine set by a genuine act who’s sporting a genuine vibe.” That’s what Bloods do so well: the sledgehammer and the handclaps, the bubblegum singalong and the motorbike muscle, the power and the pop.
“Raucous, gritty and energetic. Sort of like a 60s surf pop record that someone threw up on, put through a blender, melted back together again and then sprinkled some glitter over. Nice.”
By their very nature, King Gizzard have always appeared to value loose spontaneity over the close approach of the craftsman. Since emerging from Melbourne in 2010, this seven-headed psych-rock monster have released seven diverse albums, each capturing quick-fire bursts of inspiration, and thrilling in their imperfections and impulsiveness.
On I’m In Your Mind Fuzz, their garage-punk breakthrough from late 2014, they managed to create half a concept album about mind control, before losing concentration and filling Side Two with slower, disjointed songs recorded at a different studio. As their notoriety grew, their restless, relentless muse last year spawned two albums exploring different tangents of their scattershot sound – Quarters was a laidback, semi-improvised effort with four tracks each lasting exactly 10 minutes and 10 seconds (it bizarrely bagged a Best Jazz Album nomination at the ARIAs), while autumn’s Papier Mâché Dream Balloon consisted of uncustomary pastoral, acoustic rambles.
Yet we now learn that these two albums were merely stopgaps, recorded while singer and guitarist Stu Mackenzie and his six cohorts secretly toiled on a project that would finish what they attempted with I’m In Your Mind Fuzz – a bona fide concept album, unified in sound and vision. While the last decade has undoubtedly been a fertile time for the kind of underground rock that takes inspiration from garage, punk, prog and psychedelia, Ty Segall, Thee Oh Sees and their ilk have so far attempted little on this scale.
Although it was tracked in four days at the all-analogue Daptone House Of Soul in Brooklyn, New York, Nonagon Infinity was meticulously planned beforehand, then the subsequent recordings were subjected to endless tinkering back in Australia. The need for this work becomes clear when the album is heard – each song on Nonagon segues into the next, while the end of the final track, “Road Train”, can even be looped straight back to careen headlong, Möbius strip-style, into the opening song, “Robot Stop”, their beats matched and primed. What’s more, various melodies, riffs and refrains pop up repeatedly throughout the album, making it more akin to a 41-minute suite than nine separate songs.
On first listen, Nonagon is a hard-driving, exhausting beast; powered by two drummers, “Road Train” edges into Motörhead hard-rock, while “Big Fig Wasp” continues King Gizzard’s adoration for Thee Oh Sees, mixing a motorik beat with Mackenzie’s echoed whoops and demonic guitars (chief Oh See John Dwyer fittingly released I’m In Your Mind Fuzz on his Castle Face label in the US). The seven-minute “Evil Death Roll” harks back to the manic momentum of Hawkwind’s Space Ritual version of “Master Of The Universe”, with distorted organ and super-wah’d guitars adding to the onslaught. There are few simple thrills here, as beats are dropped and riffs gallop along in unwieldy time signatures – “Gamma Knife” might be the most driving song ever conceived in 6/8, while “Nonagon infinity opens the door” is an earworm in 7/8 time. Though Mackenzie barks out vague orders on “Robot Stop” – “Loosen up/Time to jump/Fuck shit up/Don’t forget about it” – his lyrics are often unintelligible through the fuzz, with Hammer horror images of “corpses”, “pitchforks” and a “final hearing” breaking through the haze.
With repeated listens, however, what first seems like an oppressively flat landscape – giant steppes, perhaps – gradually reveals relief, and a lot more nuance that rewards repeated immersion. Subtler elements begin to peek out from the hard-driving tempos: the electric saz solo on “Robot Stop”; the synth storm swelling up in “Big Fig Wasp” that seems to mimic said insect’s mighty buzzing; the middle of “Invisible Face” that echoes the cool-jazz labyrinths of Quarters opener “The River”; the sections on “Wah Wah” that nod to the acoustic reveries of Papier Mâché…. The entirety of the punning “Mr Beat” is five minutes of relative respite, its clowning keyboards and falsetto reminiscent of Unknown Mortal Orchestra. Elsewhere, fidelities shift between (and even within) songs, with Mackenzie deliberately moving microphones around between takes to get more sonic variation.
As King Gizzard’s frontman tells Uncut, making Nonagon Infinity was a gruelling experience compared to the relatively breezy gestation of their previous work, and yet this prolonged concentration has resulted in by far KingGizzard’s most cohesive record to date – a hyper-detailed punk opera that few of their peers have matched for intensity, ambition or sheer derangement. It’s no accident that the end of the album links up to the start: those who listen may find it difficult to get off this particular Möbius strip.
Those prolific Aussie psych-rockers King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard have shared a new ten-minute track ‘Crumbling Castle‘.
Having already released three albums in this year, the newest track looks set to be appearing on upcoming album which is rumoured to be titled Polygondwanaland.
At the start of the year the band made a promise to put out five new albums inside the calendar and, after Flying Microtonal Banana, Murder of the Universe, and Sketches of Brunswick East it looks like they’re on track. The new song – all ten minutes of it – is accompanied by a video directed by artist Jason Galea .
Just last week DMA’S returned from their year-and-a-half break following the release of their ARIA-nominated debut album Hills End, and now the Sydney trio show their faces again with a charming little clip as well.
“We feel like ‘Dawning’ gives people the opportunity to decide what the song means to them,” frontman Tommy O’Dell says of the new number. “While the message of the song is quite dark, we also wanted create a piece of music that sounds uplifting and hopeful.” Recorded at the band’s studio above the Lady Hampshire Hotel in their hometown of Camperdown, the track sees production efforts from Kim Moyes of The Presets, who’ll be producing their entire new album.
Mt. Mountain called their latest opus Dust, and boy, is that title accurate. This may as well be the soundtrack to a Vegemite Western. The 17-minute title track opens with a low drone reminiscent of a didgeridoo. Melancholic Morricone guitar and lonesome flute drift across the landscape. A full-on sandstorm hits, propelled by ominous riffs and swirling effects. Earth is an appropriate (if obvious) comparison. They make lovely oceanside Perth seem like a barren desert perpetually shrouded in crimson dusk.
Cardinal Fuzz are proud to announce the release of the epic “Dust” via Perth quintet Mt. Mountain. Since forming in 2012 Mt. Mountain are already lauded and revered in Australia where they have built a reputation as one of the most compelling live bands, a distinction that has seen them share stages with myriad Australian and international heavyweights including Sleep, King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, Thee Oh Sees, Endless Boogie, Tortoise, Bardo Pond and Boris. On “Dust” Mt Mountain have laid down 4 tracks that capture the atmosphere of the red/orange landscapes that consume the Australian Outback. Opening with the mini slow burn epic “Dust” which builds with an incessant drone and flute to form a ghostly menacing and meditative rhythmic and repetitive throb that builds and builds before the release comes and the bands shatters into a heady and thunderous elliptical crunch. Over the entire LP Mt Mountain capture, a dreamlike mood of shimmering dust filled landscapes where slow strummed guitars and single note organ lines ebb and flow and bring to mind Dylan Carson’s ‘Earth’ as played by mushroom ingesting elf’s. ‘Dust’ is psych rock meditation music and It is utterly entrancing.
This Australian band based in Brisbane taps into the mystic energies of both ‘60s flower power and the 1980s days of wine and roses. Their organ has a nasty bite, their guitars leak fuel all over the place, the drums soundtrack a “youth in revolt” movie. With disaffected alternative vocals moaning lines like “listen up, disengage, fade away” over wah-wah pedals and sitar, it’s not hard to figure out what shrines they worship at. Still, on Trail to Find, they mix together the mysterious and the upbeat with unfettered verve.
The Fat Angel Sings 