Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs-Household Goods

This is some pure DJ-ing goodness. Filled with shiny, flashes of beat making, and production that runs with the best of them, ‘Household Goods’ is a very fine track from UK electro-pioneer Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs aka Orlando Higgenbottom (thats his actual name, no wonder he uses a pseudonym. Part SBTRK, part Daft Punk, all round awesome.

Top 10 Summer Holidays Songs

So, as some of you might know as you simmer and brood away within your miserable, irrevocable lives in whatever dreary place you call home, I am currently on holiday in the island paradise of Hamilton Island, Queensland. Although I’m surrounded on all sides by water which is filled with an assortment of deadly creatures that could kill me faster than I could reach shore for an antidote, I’ve decided to keep a positive outlook on life, and look, once again, to music to be my saviour in my time of need. As the sun berates and scalds my body, and turns it into a beetroot shade of red, I present the top 10 Summer Holidays songs.

10. Jay Reatard-My Reality: This pretty much encapsulates one of the most common threads of summer holidays: someone’s dumb fucking idea to start a garage band. HA! After three weeks of you and your buddies sitting around getting high, strumming guitars and wacking drums, you’ll eventually give up and admit that perhaps your group is not the most musically talented. However, Jay Reatard took that idea, and performed a one man whirlwind of a garage band, turning that shitty idea into a career. ‘My Reality’ is one of his best and brightest songs, full of happy melody and thankfully abesnt of some his more weird endeavours. It still sounds pretty shit, and is totally lo-fi, but it more or less represents what every shitty summer garage band strives for.

9. Primal Scream-Rocks: Warning: this song is addictive. Boasting over the top bravado, a kick arse country-rock riff, and a style of verse that sounds exactly like Stevie Wonder’s ‘Higher Ground’, ‘Rocks’ could never fail. It harks back to the good ol’ days, where drugs were cheap, and sex was a-plenty, at least according to the lyrics. It is carefree as anything, and the horn/piano duo backs up this ragamuffin attitude to the absolute. Beautiful in it’s overarching, almost trying to hard style, it only works because of Bobby Gillespie’s adamant, drugged out attitude. It’s impossible not to swing and bounce to this song.

8. The Vaccines-If You Wanna: It starts of rambunctious, and it only gets rowdier. It’d be a great party starter. I can just imagine all the kids hanging out at the pool, ‘If You Wanna’ comes on, and everybody gets up and starts to groove. It’s just that kind of jam that harks back to the 60’s with that kind of twist-and-shout vibe, only with a modern production. It ticks all the criteria of a summer song: Constant, thumping bass drum, a rickety riff, jangly pop sensibilities, and it’s a carefree, love song at heart. It’s got a catchy as hell chorus, and it’s very teeange oriented. Hard not see it as an anthem.

7. Ball Park Music-iFly: You know if a song is stlyed after the iPod font that it’s going to be a hit. It’s also an acronym for I Fucking Love You. Jesus Christ, Ball Park Music were just begging to become national superstars. Not that they conformed their sound, or changed to gain mass appeal; ‘iFly’ is a stellar example of their groovy, quriky indie pop. It starts with a slide riff, and only gets better, with a beautiful backing female oooo’s and a gorgeously dumb lyrics and sun spotted guitar licks. It ticks off all the summer time activities: parties, drinking, puppy love (lust), and birthdays. It’s so catchy and adorable in the most cliched and fantastic way. It features a trombone solo for fuck’s sake!

6. The Dandy Warhols-We Used To Be Friends: Slow, techical buildup. Unfolds into a dreamy but ghastly verse. Fucking explodes into a party thumping chorus. This is the method of madness that The Dandy Warhols have shaped into their own. It’s tacky, it’s dumb and it’s brilliant. ‘We Used To Be Friends’, on a surface level, celebrates the past, happy memories of someone you love, in the Dandy’s case (according to legend), The Brian Jonestown Massacre, after a disaster filled tour throughout Europe. But it’s gt so much more than that. It’s trippy, physcadelic riff drips with passion and fulfilled happiness, teaching us to live in the moment and enjoy what we have, whenever we have it, because sooner or later, that will disappear.

5. Wavves-King of the Beach: The riff is jangly as anything, and carries the most loose vibe of any song I’ve ever heard. Everything is completely hanging out of place, and even the claps that echo after the chorus can’t do anything to help pick up the pace. That what makes it so great. It paints a picture of a day on the beach, where the waves splash over all your most prized possessions, drowning them to a worthless hunk of metal. All you can do is enjoy yourself in the burning nature of the beach, and wait for the sand to clear out of the crevices of your body before you can start to care again. As anyone who’s been to the beach can tell you, that takes a long fucking time.

4. The Flaming Lips-The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song: Psychadelic music has never been so catchy. Instead of the strange and obtuse, The Flaming Lips trade it all in on this song for an accessible and happy tune that beams with pride. Bragging the bravado of an over generic synth line, mixed with a tambourine, a vocal warper, a lions yawn of a guitar/bass line and even a Jamaican steelpan, the song is an eclectic mixture of instruments that just tend to make people happy. It’s nagging repititeveness should have been it’s killer, but it instead gives it just a wonderful vibe, probably due to Wayne Coyne’s amazing voice.

3. Best Coast-Boyfriend: Best Coast’s ‘Boyfriend’ is a personally interesting song choice for me. Initially I hated this song with a passion. It’s too simple, and there isn’t enough texture in it to create any sort of atmosphere or clamping attitude. It’s a really breezy track and just sort of floats along, with no real purpose or intention. It took me a while to realise, that this is where the greatness of the song was held. You can’t help but be lifted away by Beth Consentino’s dreamy vocals and her hopeful lyrics that are just straight up inspiring, and speak to the majority of teenagers, or at least teenage girls. You’d have to be an idiot to treat this song as some kind of holy bible speak. But can’t we all release our inner idiot sometimes, and just embrace the simplistic beauty of it all?

2. Regurgitator-! (The Song Formerly Known As): To hate this song is humanly impossible. It’s too fucking amazing. Sure, it might contain every single cliche pop topic and line in the universe, but that combination of cliche and loner weirdness that’s wrapped around it creates the lovable franchise of Regurgitator. You won’t be able to get this song out of your head for months, but I don’t understand why you’d want to. It has a brilliant chorus that screams for us to look on the brightside, and take to heart all of those summer time romances that are apparently so common amongst people. It cries for that human interaction, when is ironic, because the majority of the song is formed by loops, and computer work. Whatever, Regurgitator are fucking weird, and I like them that way. If you wanted a non-weird song, go listen to fucking U2.

1. Weezer-Island in the Sun: Could there be a more iconic summer song? With it’s a capella groove, ukele like strum and light, toned down attitude, ‘Island in the Sun’ sumarises everything that is great about the Summer Holidays. Whether it’s about the fantastic isolation you feel with a loved one, the warm feeling, both inside and out, of being free, or the knowing of being completely at home, ‘Island in the Sun’ has it all. And in case you think the song is to whimsical and straight forward, with Rivers Cuomo’s little peppering’s of ‘Hey, hey’ that start off cute, but could easily get annoying, don’t worry because there’s a fantastic, balls out chrous for you to look forward to. It’s a great jamming song, that is just packed with good vibes and free spirit.

Album Review: The Killers-Hot Fuss

There are few albums that capture the imagination as vividly as the debut from Las Vegas four piece, The Killers. Such an apt name for a band that shows off such virtuosity of style and grand flair, everything they do tinged with slick bravado and earnest deliberation. While upon a first listen, it might seem like Brandon Flowers and Co. are tapping into the cliche, it’s just pure, unadultered indie rock at it’s finest, not trying to please anyone but the band, and in the process, pleasing everyone.

The best thing about ‘Hot Fuss’ is that it caught The Killers at their finest, and most inspired. The album spirals from inspiration to inspiration, all the while maintaining a unique vision. There’s hints of Bowie, The Pixies, New Order/Joy Division, Depeche Mode, The Cure and perhaps even some of their contemporaries like Hot Chip, The Strokes, and The Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Not definite, just something that occurs from my personal point of view. Anyway, there are many beautiful things about ‘Hot Fuss’, and it posseses so many admirbale qualities. The guitar work of Dave Keuning for one. He manages to play intricate and delicate pieces that still have muscle to them, and push forward the songs, so that they don’t falter and stumble over Flower’s effeminate vocals. Mr Keuning is a master of virtuosity, blending a whole range of styles into one mouldable ball of dexterity and grit, while still advancing the lyrical and thematic content, and not confusing the listener. If the precisive riffs from Motorhead (not the heaviness) could be hung in a delicate balance with the vocality of The Smiths, wouldn’t that be great? Well, that’s what Keuning achieves.

The other amazing factor that makes for The Killers’ brilliance is Brandon Flowers. Personal egomaniac aside, he is an absolutely brilliant musician, and an incedibly talented vocalist. He knows exactly when to falter (‘Andy, You’re A Star’) and exactly when to belt out and excruciate every syllable (‘Mr Brightside’). He is the real star of The Kilers, as not only does he provide the amazing, stand out vocals that give so much life to the songs, but he is also takes the role of keyboard. Although more of a backing instrument, it’s role is unforgettable in the more key tracks of ‘Hot Fuss’ and gives the album so much of the landscape and scope that it craves. The synth work turns the band from just another indie rock project, to an unforgettable experience. Props to you, Mr Flowers, both to your work as a musician, and your absolutely ridiculous last name.

The album is a great reflection of Las Vegas. The album contains many themes of fakeness vs. genuinity, romance vs. sleaze and lust, and powerful connections vs. one night passion, themes that often spring forth whenever Las Vegas is mentioned. From the dappled, spattered and frantic opener ‘Jenny’, to the almost comedic and equally frantic ‘Somebody Told Me’, from the soppy yet heartfelt ‘Believe Me Natalie’ to the dreamy and optimistic ‘Everything Will Be Allright’, Hot Fuss remains brillianty independant and unexpected, all the while maintaining a constant, medium pace. It never goes into overdrive or tries to hard with over the top theatrics, but holds a down to earth tempo, revealing itself to be a very dignified peice of art. Upon first inspection, it would seem that it is just a lauded, hit fest, chock full of singles like ‘Somebody Told Me’, ‘Mr Brightside’ and ‘Smile Like You Mean It’, but in all honesty, the instant popularity of these songs is just a side product of what is a completely cohesive album. Think of ‘Hot Fuss’ as a carnivale, full of wonders and surprises at every turn, chock full of colour and splendour, with a totally honest and loose vibe that you could easily lose yourself in. ‘Hot Fuss’ is an album that clears the consience and speaks to the soul.

Pitbull: The Origin of Evil

About a week ago, I was asked by a friend to write an article on Pitbull. Not just any normal article, mind you, like a Top 10, or an album review. No, I was told to write a hate article. I was more than happy to oblige, as Pitbull, to quote Ben Stiller in Dodgeball “…Is the shitstain on the underpants of society”. Here is that hate article. If you get sick easily, please stop reading imediately, because there is a very good chance you will throw up when you read about the general atrocity of this man.

There is a man on this planet, a man capable of destroying us. The Mayans predicted his presence, what with the ending of their calender in 2012. Unlike the majority of people that believe in the 2012 apocalypse, I do not think that we will be overwhelmed in a flurry of hurricanes, tsunamis and  explosions as nature seeks it’s revenge. No, our end will be so much worse, and nature will be enjoying every life draining second of it. I believe that Pitbull, the grossest man on the planet, will release a single, and the entire population of humanity will be drawn into complete zombiefication. This single will be blasted from the highest mountains, the deepest ravines and the furthest reaches of the planet to make sure that all of humanity is exposed to his virus. And thus will begin the end of humanity. The impending apocalypse will be in full swing, and there will be no stopping it until we are slaves to King Pitbull and his minions of half clad Spanish temptresses.

Let me go back a bit. If you don’t know who Pitbull is, please live on in blisful ignorance, and never, ever turn on a popular radio station again, lest your ears are given access to his horrid speech. Please, do this for the sake of humanity, so you may continue with the human race after the inevetible apocalypse is carried out, as I outlined before. If you need reminding of what he looks like, click here. You have no idea what kind of torture it was looking up that image. Anyway, just look at his face. If you don’t want to immediately punch it, you are alone. He has that instant atmosphere of smug douchebag, what with his overt, concieted smile. He has an atrocious idea of what pertains to good hair, shaving all of it off his head  but keeping a pencil thin moustache, and a a goatee. There are only two types of people that can pull that kind of look off: Bond villains and the French. He is neither, and therefore comes off like a massive tool, by combining the two worst types of facial hair into one catastrophe. If this douche vibe isn’t resonating enough yet, his style is atrocious.He is always draped in a super expensive and flashy suit, and the collar is ALWAYS popped. He also adorns a pair of shades, inside or outside, in a similar vein to Bono. Since when has Bono been a good person to take fashion advice from? Never. But the worst thing about Pitbull’s physical appearance? His eyes. He has the eyes of a shark: cold, calculating and deadly. Although everything about his persona points to a confused, short entertainer that has landed himself the greatest job in the world, with no idea how he got there, his eyes give away everything. Every move is deliberate and precise, and he will destroy anyone who tries to get in his way. Those beady eyes penetrate the soul of anyone he looks at, trapping them and clutching their heart with a fist of ice. This is probably the only way he gets laid, because women will do whatever it takes for him to avert his eyes. Based solely on his eyes, I know he wants to destroy the world. He may not have the strength or power of other idols of evil like Joseph Stalin or Pol Pot, but this is a man who knows he will destroy humanity one way or another. Which brings me to his method of madness: his music.

Upon first listening of Pitbull’s music, it’s just plain confusing. There’s a formula there for sure, but it’s one of pure insanity, one that should never have worked. Here is a basic breakdown of a Pitbull song: Spanish words, usually Pitbull counting (good job Pitbull, you can fucking count), then he mumbles for a bit in an indistuishable language, and then it hits the chorus, where he unleashes a lot of produced swagger and false bravado about how he gets laid all the time. A perfect example of this is ‘Hotel Room Service’. Warning: the following 4 minutes and 29 seconds are a complete waste of your life. Seriously, listening to it is seriously painful, music alone. Once the lyrics are introduced, it only becomes worse. Here are some of the bombs Pitbull unleashes “…I’m the plumber tonight, let me check your pipes, oh, you the healthy type”, “…Then we go off to the room like vroom!”, and my personal favourite “We at the hotel, motel, holiday inn!”. In regards to the last one, what the fuck does that even mean? Is he saying he’s going to have sex with you in a variety of places, but only places that you have to pay for and can be found in every city, specifically the Holiday Inn? I mean, if I was being forced to have sex with Pitbull, I’d want to at least go to a resort. This leads me to conclude that Pitbull is a cheap bastard as well as a horrible entertainer, and it’s a funny side note to notice that the only place he could gain corporate sponsorship from was the Holiday Inn. Not even the Hilton, the dimension of hell that spawned Paris Hilton and bequethed her unto humanity was willing to sink low enough to be mentioned in the chorus of a Pitbull song.

‘Hotel Room Service’ isn’t that only monstroisty that Pitbull has released. In contrast, everything he has been involved in is equally as bad as ‘Hotel Room Service’, and in rare cases, it get worse. A quick scan through his music video’s reveals a man encased in a totally repulsive demeanour, surrounded by dancing women who are obviously only there because they need a pay check, and cannot wait to get out of there as soon as possible. The man gives music a bad name. Scratch that, the man gives humans a bad name. If a Pitbull song is ever uncovered by aliens, it will represent us as a species so badly, I would not be surprised if the aliens didn’t immediately decide to destroy our planet. Pitbull only creates music to kill people’s brain cells. This is why we are declining so rapidly as a society. We are infecting our brains with audible poison, killing ourselves in the process, and becoming slaves to this abysmal man. The worst part about it is that Pitbull has already amassed an army of zombified slaves, as his Youtube videos will show. 50 million views of ‘Hotel Room Service’. 43 million views of ‘Back In Time’. 200 million of ‘International’. 258 million of ‘Give Me Everything’. It’s completely stunning and revolting to see that a man that represents so much evil has such an audience, and can attract so much attention. Perhaps we deserve our enslaved fate, in which Pitbull reigns supreme. Perhaps it’s too late to divert his astounding popularity. Are we truly condemned to a future of King Pitbull with a table of knights made up of the cast of Jersey Shore? It’s not too late to fight back, and reject this man, this false god, this icon of evil. I believe in you! Stop championing Pitbull, the Anti Christ, the harbinger of Armageddon, the chief annihaltor of intelligence, and start listening to literally anything else besides Pitbull!

In conclusion, I  believe that Pitbull did do one thing right. He picked a good stage name for himself, that represented everything he was trying to achieve. A pitbull is a ferocious, ugly animal that cannot be tamed, and lives only to serve on the end of a leash and to terrorise and destroy whatever it comes into contact with. A pitbull has no aim in life other than to intimidate and wreak havoc. With his music, Pitbull has achieved all that and so much more. So good for you Pitbull, you succubus infested detrement to societal values. If atrocity is your aim, you have acheived in the greatest way possible. You are King, Pitbull, and you shall reign over your minions of nullified slaves in the post apocalyptic future that you have created solely with your horrible, horrible music. Solid effort, broseph (that’s something I think that arrogant chode would say, not something I would say)

Gig Review: The Rubens

Friday 21 September @ The Metro

When one thinks of The Rubens, it’s hard not to think of them as piggybacking of the success of The Black Keys. They have a distinct, drawling bluesy rock sound that harks back to thedays of The Wild West, only with more girl problems.  This was only brought into more focus when they announced that they are  supporting The Black Keys in their upcoming tour in New Zealand. But more on that later.

I entered the Metro to the soothing sounds of New Gods. I had never heard of these guys before, andI’m really glad I had the opportunty to hear them. Made up of members of the now defunct Little Red, Eagle and the Worm and Ground Components, the band utilises all the sounds of it’s respective members bands very well to form a great sound, live at least. New Gods play very straightforward indie rock, with shades of The Killers coming through. I was really impressed with their stage prescence and their ability to pound through tracks, even though there were hardly any people present in the crowd. Those that were there though got to experience quite a unique experience: a good first support act. I’m certain that New Gods cemented quite a few new fans in their support slot.

After New Gods played their set, the venue filled up to about halfway, and everyone was buzzing to hear Bertie Blackman. The ARIA award winning songstress has been absent for a few years in the wait to prepare her new album, and her return to the live stage was met with both excitement and dubiousness, at least from what I picked up from the fans around me. Bertie Blackman certainly didn’t need an introduction, as she waltzed onto stage with a slight clamour of shouts and applause from the audience. She is a stocky, unassuming figure, but she has quite a powerful voice on her, and it’s all she needs to ensure success in her songs. She is a massively multi-talented musician, only being accompanied by a drummer (a very flashly dressed drummer, I might add) as she made her way on a keyboard, her own drums and percussion, and an ancient guitar, the rest of her music being pre-recorded material. Bertie Blackman is a very diverse artist, playing all sorts of styles to great effect. Garage, noise, rock were all played with great bravado and skill, whilst never losing their distinct pop edge. My friend Cal made the great observation that she was the Australian Florence Welch (Florence + The Machine), however in retrospect, I would call her an Australian version of The Kills, if they were fronted by P J Harvey. She just has such a feminist, no bullshit, but still keen for some fun attitude that is very respectable and warming to the audience. I was a little bit sad after my first Bertie Blackman experience was over. She is an absolutely fantastic entertainer as well as a performer and musician.

The room grew to full capacity by the time The Rubens got on stage, and people were clamouring for their dusty, sun-starched blues rock. By this time, I had steeled myself for a mediocre performance, by another Triple J flavour of the month band, what with their latest single ‘My Gun’ storming the radio waves. What I expected was a medley f Thickfreakness/Attack and Release/Brothers era Black Keys music changed just enough so that The Rubens could call themselves anything other than a cover band. What I got was completely different, as The Rubens made their way on stage to an entrance theme song differentiating in every way to everything they have done. It was a crescendo filled, String and brass crammed gangster rap song, something that would be at home on a Wu Tang Clan setlist. The Rubens then opened with an anti-climax, but built up steam throughout the performance, never really instigating full on excitement in the audience, but drawing close a couple times with the double header of ‘Cowboy Song’ and ‘My Gun’. Instead, the audience were transfixedin a respectful air in lieu of their total and utter amazing musicianship and unique style. What made it even more special were the songs that featured their little brother on another smaller drum set. As was explained, the band took their name from the little brothers’ middle name, as the band is made up of three brothers and two friends. This sense of kinship and closeness made the audience give off a collective “NAWW” but it genuinely made the set feel like a more special, and tight knit event.

The Rubens made for fantastic small time entertainment, and blew me away with their sweeping and irreverent ballads that had old timey written all over them. The set was closed with the most heartening song of the night ‘Don’t Ever Wanna Be Found’, which swept the crowd into a frenzy and had them screaming for more. The encore came in the form of a song off their recent self-title debut, and the classic Rubens song ‘Lay It Down’.

I would definetely reccomend getting The Rubens brand spanking new debut. It’s glowing with produced, alternative perfection and is one of the best debuts released in recent Australian history, or at least that’s the kind of atmosphere I got from their amazing set.

Dune Rats-Fuck It

Finally, one of the greatest songs released in 2012 has a video clip. And just like everything Dune Rats do, it’s completely half-arsed and lovable. Filmed from iPhones from the perspective of both long haired hooligan band members, it shows their crowd surfing filled last show of their tour supporting Children Collide. Although the video isn’t amazing, it’s a video nonetheless, so you finally have some moving pictures to look at when admiring the musical brilliance of the no-doubt summertime anthem ‘Fuck It’.

Album Review: Die! Die! Die!-Harmony

When I first heard about the band Die! Die! Die! I knew I would love them. Not a typical reaction of course. When the word Die is repeated three times and has an exclamation mark to emphasise the anger with which this word should be repeated, the kind of band that comes to mind is some wimpy, emo band from the suburbs of America. You know, the kind of band made up of members who style each other’s hair, and have more than one name for black, like ‘midnight’ or ‘oil spill’. In case it’s not obvious I’m talking about My Chemical Romance. This is the opposite of what Die! Die! Die! represent and sound like. If Refused, The Dead Kennedy’s and The Drones all got together in their garages and played simultaneously, you would have something that would be on the way to Die! Die! Die!’s amazing sound. This is relayed fantastically in their third and latest album, Harmony.

Die! Die! Die! are at heart a punk band. But they’re also an art band, as well as a noise band. So, they have a pretty complex and multi-layered sound. The album switches between the genres at a breakneck pace, but generally stays with the same sort of an atmosphere. The atmosphere in question is one of murky mystery, always at a precipice of overboard critical analysis, flirting the line between scathing tolerance and unbridled hate. So, yeah, on further analysis, they are definitely a punk band at heart.

The album is like a leisurely drive through a scorched war field. Brimming with decadence and a sense of purity amongst the dirt, Die! Die! Die! paint a universe where oblivion rules. What better way to start the album than with a track called ‘Oblivion: Oblivious’. The song shifts between a seething bass line and smattered physcadelica, and a quaint, plucked chorus. A fantastic, diverse intro to an equally diverse album. Next, is onto the title track, which was a good choice for an album summarisation. Although no one could possibly no this yet, there is fury and a pounding ambition behind every beat, however, they manage to flatten out some sections, and add enough technical diversity to give even more increased drama to every phrase. About halfway through the song, the song completely changes direction, going for a lost and confused tone, with faraway vocals and distorted, reverb saddled guitar.

So, towards the end of ‘Harmony’ you might think things will become a bit quieter, and that the rage is over. What are you thinking, this is only track two! Track three, ‘Erase Waves’ explodes in an heard of fashion, with an incredibly tight riff bouncing around in your eardrums like a bullet in an enclosed tin can. The incredulous sneer is so prominent in this song, and if you listen to the lyrics, you’ll hear “Hey burn out, you remind me….burn out!”. Pretty obvious gesture as to how he feels: excluded by humanity and not giving two shits about it. After experiencing ‘Erase Waves’, your over the hump of the most heart stopping part of the album. In reward, your granted ‘Trinity’ and ‘Seasons Revenge’, two songs that try to give off the most complacent and agreeable side to Die! Die! Die!, or at least the closest thing that they can muster. Tempo gets slowed, vocals become less bitter, more hopeful, and the guitars and bass drone a bit more, rather than buzz like chainsaws. In ‘Seasons Revenge’ you could almost swear that the lead singer has an all right voice. Ha! What is this? Pop music? In a quick wraparound retaliation, there is ‘No One Owns A View’. Grunge-y and full of adult angst, it boasts a scaled riff like no other, like a crocodile snapping its jaws at your fleeing legs. The rest of the album proceeds without much more alternation, except for the ambient-esque ‘Shades of Blue’. ‘Twitching Sunshine’ would be the only remaining stand out track. It contains pretty much the only non-scathing tone in the album, and is actually quite pleasant, if it weren’t for the bee sting guitar drooling in the background, not loud enough to take over, but loud enough to detract from the deviation I think they were trying to achieve on the track.

When all is said and done, the album is just a straight up achievement for New Zealand music, and post-roc in general. Long, apocalyptic landscapes are at every turn, dreary shades of grey pollute the skies and the questioning voice of Die! Die! Die! is definitely standout. There is only one rule for ‘Harmony’: Expect the unexpected.

Of Monsters and Men-Little Talks

An oldie but a goodie. Who doesn’t love this song? ‘Little Talks came out earlier this year as the lead single for Swedish indie crew Of Monsters and Men (do not confuse them with the musical abominations Of Mice and Men). The video perfectly captures the innocent and fragile atmosphere of the song, of a child’s truth and honesty, and how that fluctuates as we’re older. In a way, they’re trying to say lying is an invention of age, something I could not agree with more. Such a beautiful song.

Cat Power-Cherokee

The first single and video off Cat Power’s brand new album Sun. An absolute shiner of a track, it exudes a quiet confidence and has an odd yet soothing pace. The accompanying video is so strange, and doesn’t really fit with the track very well, in my opinion, however both are very well produced and well done.

Regurgitator-Bong In My Eye

There are so many fantastic things about this song. First of all it’s called ‘Bong In My Eye’. It’s one of the funniest songs, with some of the most simpleton lyrics in existence. Secondly, it has a very very basic riff, that encapsulates the heart of the song, in that it barely budges between chords, it’s thick and greasy, and there’s a lot of pause between chords. You just know Quan (guy with the gelled tips) was stoned when he wrote the riff. Fuck it, they were probably stoned for the entire recording process. What emerges is a thick slab of chunky and infectious alternative goodness.