Tuesday, 2 September 2014

Taken By The Serpent’s Tongue


Dreamtime are busy – well busier than usual. Despite keeping live appearances to more of a minimum in 2014, the now-quartet (Fergus Smith from Frown (more on them later) has joined to add more droned heft) had their two sold-out LPs Dreamtime and Sun re-released on local label Conquest Of Noise, all set with new artwork and a wider-reaching push to reach those global psyche carpal tunnels. They have music in store for their third album, and we gratefully get a taste in terms of ‘Serpent’s Tongue’. It’s a more open, cleaner sound in some ways, but guitarist Zac Anderson’s vocal delivery is flayed bare with little reverb to hide the spit and rolled-back eyes lent to the delivery. This therefore lends a more blasted, unhinged aspect to an already monumental aesthetic that Anderson, Cat Maddin (bass/vocals) and Tara Wardrop (drums) have painstakingly developed over the years. It’s always a pulsating experience seeing these guys weave their dense sonic mantras, but with ‘Serpent’s Tongue’ it seems that atmosphere is more likely to implode in a calamitous thrash here.


You can get your hands on ‘Serpent’s Tongue’ here. Added bonus are two improvisational pieces Dreamtime have done on stage this year. The one at Shedstock in particular is a mind-melter.

Get The Shovels Out And DIG


I have been a big fan of San Francisco native Michael Beach for some time. He came floating into my sonic peripherals with his solo fare; firstly his A Horse 7" through Twin Lakes Records back in 2011, but most prominently when he released Golden Theft, one of my favourite albums of 2013. I even had the privilege of putting him on a show at the Beetle Bar in Brisbane back in November (with a stellar line-up of Soda Eaves, Tiny Migrants and Tape/Off – but due to torrential rain it was a poorly attended show, despite it being one of my favourite of the year also). He was joined with a backing band, bassist Adam Camilleri and drummer Peter Warden. But they aren’t really just a backing band – the trio form Shovels, and their debut LP (out through Homeless Records) is one of apocryphal dirges and imploding delights.


There are moments throughout Shovels where I felt I was listening to one of Australia’s truly underrated rock bands, Turnpike. Whilst nowhere near as intricately frenetic, there is an incessant gnarled tension throughout these tracks, such as opener 'MB Jacket' or 'Multiple Farrow', from the deathmarch basslines and cathartic drums to Beach’s impassioned howls and sharp guitar stabs and swathes. The monolithic ‘Clyde’ stands stark here, just over five minutes of drowning militaristic rancour; as Beach shouts ‘the leader of the FBI’ there is a nascent aura pervading, as if the anger is on the cusp of being superseded by impotent exasperation. But the muscularity remains, and therein lies one of the secret ingredients that so many bands forget – you can strut and bluster all you want, you can turn things up as loud as they will go, but if you don’t wield your strengths at the right time, with tempered aggression, with knowledge of when to strike and when to recede into the shadows, you are nothing but a cardboard cutout. Even the sparse, foreboding languidity of ‘Expire’ holds more strength in its aural tendrils than most bombastic offerings. There is nothing impotent about Shovels – contrary, this album digs mass graves for us all to gratefully slumber in, led by Pied Pipers of angularity.


Grab Shovels here – it’s a necessity.

Monday, 1 September 2014

Flaying The Cow From My Bones


Here is a distorted chugging Western thug disaster classic if I've ever heard one. Probably haven't, but this is what I imagine it to be. French outfit Cowbones are bringing out their new album Vox Populi Pollux on Casbah Records (The Future Primitives, Bits Of Shit, Mesa Cosa) and first cut feels like a demented bastard child of Grinderman and John Spencer Blues Explosion if their dirtiest dirge got caught in a timeloop. The masked madmen look a sight to behold, and if this track is anything to go by, this album is going to melt the bones of the most hardened gunslingers. Colour me excited.

The Passenger With The Delicate Features


I received this in the mail last week, and it is an embarrassing reminder that I have quite a few Not Not Fun Records releases and fail to write about them. So starting with Delicate Features, I'm going to write a post a day this week about just a few of the many killer releases that the LA left-fielders constantly knock out.

Delicate Features is a duo from St Petersberg, Russia, and their somnambulist cruise through rose-painted prisms that is The Passenger is an aural dreamstate of petals and illicit desires. There is a haunted romanticism to these ten tracks that makes them somehow simultaneously lovingly romanticised, formally sensuous and heartbreakingly desolate. Kate Bush if she grew up in frozen tundra environs with ancient symbolism, archaic computers and a snow globe that holds a long-lost emotional connection to the time that love was irrevocably lost. Stunning Siren music for the tortured soul. Grab The Passenger here.

Looking Forward To Stomping Cretins


I’ve been meaning to give air to Looking Forward To Being Attacked, the new LP from Memphis wildlings Cretin Stompers, for a month now – this post got lost in the move. I was listening to this a fair bit too when I was packing up – it's a Hozac and Burger Records dual release, so that gives you some idea what to expect but still there is a gritty thrashiness and yet coquettishness to these guys that is beguiling, weird and pretty great too. The one-two punch of ‘Project:Object’ and ‘Adult Child’ exemplify this perfectly – a high-pitched vocal gives us a languid rock jam that plays with our sonorous heartstrings, before the second track goes full tilt into the rubbish tip, all metal scrapes and distorted riffs and growled grunts, eyes rolling around, a spit-stained thrash-out. The drums sound cavernous and blown-out; the guitars alternate between stoned sunshine psychedelics and speed-freak garage trash. There is the straight forward grooves of ‘Randy Kraft’ followed by the helium-blast of ‘Watch Sally Run’; the distorted yacht rock melt of ‘Dream Blood’ and 70s stadium rock of ‘Cowboy From Mars’…It’s such an absurd pill to swallow and let meld with your molecules – it’s as if the Weens went and tried to cover Thee Oh Sees and spectacularly failed, but in their own way spectacularly succeeded – so in many ways it does what it says on the tin. Despite the offputting nature one who stomps cretins might have, we are always thankful for them – especially when ‘Cretin Ate My Neighbour!’ hits – and as soon as I throw this on, I'm raring for the frontal attack. Witness the weirdness.


You can grab Looking Forward To Being Attacked here.

Zeahorse Pooling Their Brutal Strengths


I have to say that the success of a couple of my favourite Sydney bands recently have really surprised me. First seeing Yes I'm Leaving on Stereogum, now Zeahorse embarking on their US tour. Not that either of these bands don't deserve it - they are two of the heaviest, brutal and rad bands in Australia - but they have been bands slaving away in an environment that has never seemed to suit them. But then again, with the rise of likeminded creeps like Narrow Lands, Tanned Christ and Sour Cream in the city, the world is becoming a much more accepting place for festering scuzz. Now we see Zeahorse are releasing their Pools EP Stateside too (through Dine Alone Records). Zeahorse's sound is a bit easier to palate I suspect - their hardened riffs are given a shoegaze wash, softening the blows in just the right way - but a song like 'Pool' still maintains the power - it's a great song. And then 'Career' - well, that just rips in and doesn't really let up.





Zeahorse will be doing the US rounds in October. Good luck lads.

Sunday, 31 August 2014

Miss Destiny Likes Her Southern Comfort Straight


So I am heading to Straight Arrows tonight as they support Jack Oblivian alongside The Sheiks. It's gonna be a blast. Check out the interview I did with Owen from the Sydney garage titans back here to get a taste. But as you know, the band isn't the only outlet for these guys, and out of them the most prolific tends to be Angie Garrick. Outside of her old stuff as Circle Pit (with Jack Mannix), Angie has done her solo record Turning (which was a late contender for best album of 2013) and this year's Ruined Fortune (with Nic Warnock), and now we another slice courtesy of Hozac Records.


But before we get to that, there is another Aussie band with a 7" pumping through the Hozac veins (anticipation is rife!) Miss Destiny is a grungey Hole-esque blast-out, and 'The One' is a killer track that belies such audacious comparison claims. The four-piece from Melbourne (which features Harriet Hudson - the link is clear in a minute) slam the speakers with some much needed bite, a bracing band that borrows from 70s garage rock and rips it to shreds with vehement glee. Great stuff.




Also out on Hozac is a 7" from Angie's "other" band (of which there are many), Southern Comfort (and the penny drops!) . Now I actually bought this 7" at the Sonic Masala Fest when Angie played, and wrote a post up about this (alongside releases by The Man and Mary Monday) but it disappeared off my laptop. So now's a good time as any to talk about it. 'Suzanne' is a much breezier jam than Hudson's Miss Destiny, and it's good to see the colour palette is wide spread. Sometimes you need to let the sun out as much as kick out the jams.



And yep, if in London you can see Angie play in another of her bands, Straight Arrows, tonight at the Bethnal Green Working Men's Club. They are supporting Jack Oblivian and The Sheiks. It is another great Upset The Rhythm show - get along to it, it's gonna be LOOSE.

Broncho's Hip To Be A Woman


Oakland outfit Broncho have just released their new album Just Enough Hip To Be Woman, and it’s eleven slices of slightly-reverbed, massively-addictive guitar rock in the self-effacing, humorous, garage-tinged vein. The staccato delivery of ‘Class Historian’ is instant hookworm material, that also bares some resemblances to The Cars (I goddamn love The Cars). ‘Deena’ stretches further back, taking carbon copies of 60s surf rock and dropping it into the hyperdrive of 80s synthesised synapse-eroding rock. 'Stay Loose' could be a Joan Jett cover done by Unknown Mortal Orchestra at half speed. ‘Taj Mahal’ is a young Finn brothers cast-off. Its this pastiche of rock evolution that permeates Broncho’s song deconstructions that makes their songs both imminently likable and eerily recognisable. It is so indebted to past “glories” at times that a clear personality becomes opaque – as much as I dig ‘Stop Tricking’ and especially ‘Taj Mahal’, I can’t shake the comparisons off. It’s funny then that the last three songs are so intent on blowing the speakers, the groove and growl suddenly at the forefront when most other bands would top-load these tracks. ‘Kurt’, ‘China’ and ‘It’s On’ blast forth with a newfound grit, set in sepia and leather – it’s here, as in the giddiness of ‘Class Historian’, that Broncho become a combustible beast in their own right. A strange ride, then, yet it’s hard to resist their charms.





Just Enough Hip To Be Woman is out soon on Dine Alone Records - buy it here.

Saturday, 30 August 2014

A Sunblasted, Dirge-tastic Big Mess


Let's get on the messy dirge train, with Lowell MA's Big Mess, clear those cobwebs out with doom-sludge instrumentals. I can't believe I haven't heard of these guys before - their new 12" You Are My Sunshine (Out through Midnight Werewolf Records) , besides being a great name for an album mining the depths of the riff underworld, is the kind of guitar-heavy brutality with a sleek underbelly that I always love to smash out. And with names like 'Rat's Ass', 'Grow Some Balls Jake Barnes' and 'Pounding Piss Touch', it is like this album was made exclusively with me in mind. Thanks guys - you shouldn't have! (You totally should have). Grab the 12" (in sunburst orange) here.

Eat Up The Sex Scheme


Sado-masochism is a real turn-on for dirt-scuzzbags that like their rock disintegrating and dire, isn’t it? From Gentlemen and Occults right back to Big Black... Look I can’t say I'm upset, or even surprised. But it can be a bit of a tired trope to gussy your downer punk grinds with. Sex Scheme are no different. The Brooklyn killers have gone the black and white, hogtied and bootheel cover art. And it gives a strong indication of what to expect here. ‘Dog Slut’ is a sub-two minute blur, neither here nor there; but the off-the-wall awfulness of ‘Eat It’ is actually much more effective, with the drawled lyrics of the insane Ben (not far removed from Bird Blobs vocally, although I must say I much preferred those guys) and the rusted guitar whines are held down by a no-nonsense bass chug and heartbeat drum that, whilst played thousands of times before, keep the shit from flowing down the sewer too soon. The harmonica sounds out over ‘Feel Me’ and the drug-fuelled slurs once more feel at home with the dirty recordings and the aluminium-trash can drums at play here. The lysergic nature of the narcotic drag comes full circle on ‘Mexico City’, barely staying upright on its two varicose-veined stumps, flailing broken glass and spitting broken teeth with barely-contained self-knowledge. And that is Sex Scheme (and most of their ilk) to a tee – there is no rhyme and reason, its just the black tar coming from way down and ripped out and flung on the sweat-stained walls. And just like sado-masochism, it’s an acquired taste. Try this at home at your diseased peril.


Buy the Sex Scheme 7" here.

Friday, 29 August 2014

Friday Cover Up - Holy Sons On The Beach


Emil Amos is a man of many talents, and has spread them through a gamut of incredible bands - Grails, Om, Lilacs & Champagne... Yet Amos pours his heart out into Holy Sons, a solo project that has always pushed towards the emotional depths that the likes of Jim James, Mark Kozelek or Jason Molina regularly mined. He has an album, The Fact Facer, coming out through Thrill Jockey Records, and in preparation Amos has been releasing bonus material in the lead-up and one of the tracks is one of my favourite songs ever made - a cover of Neil Young's 'On The Beach'. But it isn't that simple - because Amos has squished it into another cover, one that also kills it - Black Flag's 'Nervous Breakdown'! I can't even imagine the conception of the idea - but I'm glad the mad alchemy exists.


And for a special bonus, here is another song, 'More Therapy'... You can pre-order The Fact Facer here.

Celebrate The End With Danyl Jesu


Here is a band that will be huge. I guarantee it. Danyl Jesu is an electronic metal outfit comprised of members of Brisbane acts O, Roku Music and The Rational Academy, and whilst it marries some of the dire spirals of darkness that the former band reside in, the four track EP Celebration is a new, blackened beast of a creation altogether. The brutality of 'Abandon' is the epoch of fury, and the synthetic whirr that winds things up to a coiled tension is a bubble that refuses to burst. The tension continues in 'Gathering' where the drums hold a metronomic death-call akin to My Disco's relentless meticulousness, and whilst the sonic squall at the halfway mark lets the air seep into the void for some much need catharsis, the vocals remain tortured and stressed. There are no guitars here - I repeat, no guitars. The distorted wave of noise is an electronic maelstrom, a melange of tapes and effects that inexorably bleed and bash into and through one another, becoming a transmogrified black mess of unadulterated id. Aptly titled closer 'Exhaustion' is a slow grind into the cracked earth, all efforts rendered useless. There is definitely a sense that the duo are still at the fledgling stages of their powers; still toying with the capabilities of the destruction at their disposal. They travel to the US in 2015 to record their album with Phil Elverum (Mt Eerie, The Microphones), a master at sonic tape manipulation - expect Danyl Jesu to fuse solid, liquid and vapour into one after that collaboration bears brutal fruit.

This Won’t Ruin Your Smile


Sometimes things happen that are pretty exciting. I can still remember the time I found five bucks in the sand when we were staying down the Gold Coast with cousins when I was 10 (in what is now basically a casino car park). But this is way better than that. Way better.

I am not sure where Ruined Smile Records came from exactly. But I know they’re from Brisbane. And I’m stoked cause I’m from Brisbane and they’ve just delivered me a goldmine. I am never really a fan of compilations, but this seriously blitzes just about any I’ve ever come across. There is scuzz and sandpaper here. There is thoughtful, playful, heartfelt and frantic. There are a bunch of guitar sounds to warm your heart and fill you with hope. And a bunch of new bands for me to go and see. Seriously, from this goes from Smudge through Blueline Medic. I am sending this to my cousin right now. The one who sold me his Helmet tape for five bucks in a casino car park when I was 10.


The first release proper to come from Ruined Smile appears to be a 12" EP from the Nottingham band The Blue PeriodAnd Suddenly The Days Draw Long Like Light-Years. Here is a song of theirs. Kindred spirits.

Thursday, 28 August 2014

Forever Scratching That Existential Itch


Where to start with this one? I was sent a digital copy of Saul Jarvie's solo LP Existential Eczema over a month ago - it was well before I left Australia at any rate - by good dude Chris Yates (Dollar Bar, Bong YZA, The Young Liberals, heaps of other stuff). I was caught straight off the bat by 'Tracks Line Up' and I realised it was the first album in months where the lyrics really mattered to me. I couldn't help but feel like I was being drawn into someone else's worldview in a guitar drawl balladry akin to the darker edges of 90s indie fare - the atmospherics that 21st century bands can very rarely approach without sounding bombastic or overtly emotional, a sense of obviousness attached to their lyrics. But with 'The Other Side of the Firelight', when those very lyrics are sung, my heart quavered. There is almost a rebelliousness to such bare storytelling, in that it resonates both on a personal level for the songwriter and for the listener. Again, I feel that this particular purpose of music has been overlooked by much of this generation's musicians - I'm not even saying that is a bad thing - do we need another Something For Kate or Sandpit? They already existed; you can't better them (the reissue of Sandpit's On Second Thought on vinyl is a glaring example). But Jarvie, member of post-rock acolytes Rival Flight back in the day, has a timbre of voice and intricacy of spirit that makes these bold, atmospheric ruminations at once magnetic and dramatic. No, there aren't many albums like Existential Eczema anymore. But when it is crafted as beautifully as this one is, that is a goddamn crime.



Everyone should head here right this minute and pick up a copy, it's bloody great.

Move Your Frown Upside Clouds


Humming; Humming Like dunduddundundun... Like bass and wailing guitar and lyrics about “people” moving places. Places like sideways and your way. Most likely with something to offer you. If this is what happens when you legalise everything - like, if you can blow yourself a joyous kazoo to get through the day and then change whatever you’re doing halfway through just to boogie down – I say legalise it all. Now.


Pre-order the new album from The Frowning Clouds, Legalize Everything (out through the prolific Rice is Nice in Aus, and Saturno Records elsewhere) now and have people move it towards you soon.

Wednesday, 27 August 2014

Coughing Cool Every Weekend


I'm seeing out the week with some leftover Cough Cool. Well, one half of. Dan Svizeny has gone solo with Every Weekend (out on Forged Artifacts) and its a fuzzed slice of summer slay dipping beyond the far end of the horizon, leaving you with slight sunstroke, a hangover and half-remembered memories that may or may not be rose-tinted underneath the darker tinted Ray Bans. 'Close-Up USA' is a good start ('Always Daytripping' is OK but its bad Eurotrash pout grates on me after a few listens, even though I love the bass, so arrogant haha). It feels like a clinging wetsuit of meditation, floating in the flotsam and jetsam of half-chances and confused daydreams, a drawl that the mind can't really get out of. In all, I'm digging this record. You can grab the chrome Every Weekend cassette here.

Video Vacuum - Trans Am, Catman, Pere Ubu, Lower Spectrum, Whirling Hall Of Knives, Goat, Ghost Wave


I'm moving house today. So I'm not going to be able to do any posts I'm afraid. So here is a lengthy A/V gem that I prepared earlier...


I mentioned earlier this year that I was pretty happy to hear Trans Am were bringing out a new album. In fact I had pangs of sadness when packing my things to move to the UK and found my copy of Futureworld that I hadn't listened to in years - enough for it to soundtrack an afternoon of throwing out clothes and taping up boxes. Here is the film clip for 'Insufficiently Breathless' - a subdued, sonorous affair with film-like breadth, and the ethereal, woodsian music video fits the music perfectly. Hoping to see these guys play once more before 2014's candle burns out.


I spoke very favourably of Catman, the solo outfit for Adam Rogan. His guitar suite The Singapore Demos was a killer example of how to sweep away all semblances of the self in pure music. He is back with a new track, 'Joo Koon', and it continues the amazing vibes - I have listened to this song non-stop all day. Just hearing this reminds me of how much I love Mark McGuire's Living With Yourself - and how good Catman is. So many more people need to indulge in this magic.


Trans Am onto Catman, then swinging back to an older classic band that are continuing their "comeback" in the form of Pere Ubu. A band I never thought I would get to see, but saw them at the Melbourne ATP last year (you know, the Altona one - the good one?) 'Golden Surf II' continues the brooding, bracing rock deathmarch that the avant-noise-weirdniks refuse to let go of, and in the process have crafted one of the most deliciously off-the-wall killers that they have brought out in some time. The beauty of the film clip is that Pere Ubu can sustain a band-filmed-in-a-room clip because of their ubiquity and magnetism, but the flick-card images that hammer throughout add the extra slice of the macabre. Great stuff.


Ned Buckley's climb as Lower Spectrum continues, now with the launch of the film clip for his single 'Khlever'. Another exquisitely shot clip that utilises the austere environs for its own nefarious aims, the alien objects and symbols shown throughout becoming more arcane in the frozen terrain that the young protagonist wanders through. Pagan ritualism based in the ancient future.


Further down the rabbithole we go, into the trancelike noise of Ireland's Whirling Hall of Knives. 'Scrap Assembly' blasts out like a warning siren, a nuclear meltdown of the senses, a groove intent on internal destruction, yet insistent on muscular movement and emotional attachment. The clip again creates this claustrophobic miasma of contracting and expanding, the tension growing just behind the cerebral vortex, the ghost in the machine in the self. Disturbingly simple, destructively seductive.


Goat have a new record out soon called Commune. I loved World Music. I really dig these krautrock demons from Sweden. And whilst 'Words' could have had a much more visceral film clip than this one, there is something foreboding and hypnotising about the triangles here. The band has always enjoyed angular design with their artwork, as well as multicoloured splashes, so the film clip still fits into the Goatosphere... Still, I want the masks and faux-camp darkness. This is an electric taste of what is to come though, so I'm not complaining.



OK, so let's try and pull out of this existential nosedive with one last clip. New Zealand band Ghost Wave have in 'Who's Doin' The Talkin'' crafted a languid psyc-out that is hazed and easy on the soul. Unabashed love of the motorik beat - as am I. Let's take a load off and unwiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiind...

NOW GET BACK TO WORK!

Step Panther to the Jugular

(Post by Fred Savage Beasts)

The guitars in this new Step Panther single are so shiny. SO shiny. They sound a bit like they came from outer space, or, at least, got reflected back from some satellite picking up stray laments pouring out of a drive through speaker box somewhere near your place. Metallic beams, straight from the heart. There is a mention of some kind of swamp thing, but there’s no swamp here. Apart from the swamp in your home town - the one you  get caught in when the person you love moves somewhere far away and you’re left ordering fast food for the third night in a row.

Tuesday, 26 August 2014

EXEKUTIVE DUB

A deliberately sparse and haunting siren call of leather steampunk caught in the dub excess of William Gibson's less lucid moments, Melbourne nightcrawlers Exek really have hit a nerve with their new release. The ex-Slug Guts and Martyr Privates vehicle is the closest thing yet to a Melbourne band actually living on the outer regions of all parallel universes. 'A Hedonist' feels like Ennio Morricone on a space-age Rastafarian bent, with instruments frayed and blasted from time and neglect. The experimentation with instruments (glockenspiel, saxophone, violin, triangle, glasses) to create an ephemeral bedrock for Adrian Wolski's disembodied warbles creates a languid wasteland with which the songs float, in a green room of wavering consciousness and emotions. It's a brooding beast of a release, but Exek proves there is life on other much, much more distant planets than this one.


Buy Exek from TIME /\ SPACE Record Co. here. They have played shows recently with the likes of Cobwebbs and White Walls, but have gone underground for a while. In between the lines and minds. But stay intuned...

Aussie Electronic Wash

OK, let's start today on some sepulchral electronics from the sunburnt netherworld, shall we?


First up is Andy Citawarman, most notably recognised as the crazy man that wasn't Joe McKee from hugely underrated Western Australian outfit Snowman. They put together some of the most deliciously claustrophobic and dark performances I've ever seen - true mental catharsis through self-flagellation. Third album Absence saw the band come to its (sadly) logical conclusion, with the gnashing of teeth gone but that sense of encroachment and paranoia still fervently in place. Citawarman has not been completely quiet though - he has been crafting gossamer wash electronic theatrics for a few years now. 'For Velvet Rain' is supposedly written for his niece, but it's hard to tell - opening with operatic piano and soaring melancholic ghostly effects before dissolving into a white-noise trance, repetition through obliteration. The Fuck Buttons comparison here isn't just fair but obligatory - this is a journey through the blurred outer realms. Extremely exciting, and waiting anxiously for the next instalment.




Andrew McLellan and Joel Stern are two other Australian artists who have a lot of musical outlets. The thing is, they are all beguiling creatures unto themselves. Stern's improvised instrument experiment Sky Needle is probably the most obvious one, whilst McLellan's Cured Pink is an ever-evolving melange of worldly noise in a manicured teacup, stewing restlessly for the new niche yet never finding it (and never truly wanting to). The two of them have joined forces before of course through the busted sonic whirr in Greg Boring, a band that revels more in what doesn't work than what does. When making music together as Soft Power though, we see the melding of some truly mesmeric minds (joining the duo is Josh Watson (Sewers) and Sophia Brous). It is Brous though that steals the proverbial show - her discombobulated vocals drift in and out of the nebulous mix like an otherworldly swami with hiccups, creating an ethereal dialogue between the real and the self that I'm not even sure she understands. But it is the rocking-chair analogous monotony of the music that combines with Brous' vocals to provide a hypnotic mantra, all pastel hallucinogens and out-of-focus pop paradigms. Soft Power has released an album through All Day Breakfasts, If You Come Around - a white-noise technicolour tune-out wonderland - buy it here.




Also based in Queensland is Kurt Eckardt AKA Astral Skulls. The combination of guitar and synth here creates a 16-bit platform for monotone vocals to create an interesting cross section of New Wave marching nihilism and post-millennial hypercolour movement and beats. The end result? An anarchic drumbeat of post-punk that bubbles more than boils, made for cassettes to jam into your Commodore 64. More, please.




The crew from Feral Media are a great collective that hold the pulse on weird electronic beats, and the last two artists for today are from their "stable". I know I have mentioned Setec previously - 'For Concrete Or Water' is still a burr in my sonic side - and he has finally released the album Brittle As Bones, so definitely warrants a mention here. The Cornelius and The Books comparisons can be picked up on in various spaces throughout the album, but above all Setec's palette seems to be a warmth, knitting together found sound, samples and sonorous vocals to create a personal work of heartbreaking beauty. Worthy of a review on its own (sorry Josh!), suffice to say that Brittle As Bones is a fantastic debut release.



But to finish off is the wonderful Clean Dirt, the new album from Melbourne weirdnik Bob Streckfuss AKA 0point1. The amalgamation of pop compositions and found sound electronic is used here in a intricate yet uncluttered Jenga tower, coalescing to emotions thought untouchable (see tracks like 'Radio Edit' and 'Wormchild Singalong'). Above all else there is a restless creativity here that belies childlike enthusiasm, straddling the industrial and the naturalistic. You can get Clean Dirt here on USB, coming with a bunch of fresh material.