New Australian Music: Prolife + Martyr Privates/Thigh Master + Raindrop + Wolf Cola + The Owls + The Ninjas

Whilst The Great Barrier Reef prepares itself for the biggest natural raping in mankind’s history, and sharks in Western Australia ready themselves for the massacre, there comes the small condolence that Australian Music is still in top form.

Prolife-Gold Leaves

Slug Guts were one of the pillars of Brisbane’s underground scene, so it was a real fucking bummer when they broke up. They managed to make noise music sound interesting and fresh again, and then, suddenly, it looked like things were going to get all fucked up again. From two of Slug Guts’ remaining members comes Prolife, an anti-suicide band. However, instead of shredding noise that echoed with Junkyard-era Birthday Party, we get the Rowland S. Howard experience. Nothing wrong with that, in fact, it only seems logical that there be that re shifting of musical ideology after being immersed in a blood bath of viciousness for so long. ‘Gold Leaves’ is fucking beautiful, just soft, layered mush slowly pressing its corpse against you and hushed, melancholy vocals ringing hollow. The result is a sincere and creepy track that can only be described in synonyms of praise.

 

Martyr Privates/Thigh Master-Split Cassingle

Quick review: get behind both these bands as fast as you can. They are about to very soon become highlights of Brisbane’s underground scene the same way Palms, Straight Arrows and Unity Floors are so central to Sydney’s music group. Seriously, both these bands couldn’t have offered greater singles to this work of art if they tried. This cassette is like the fucking Holy Grail of awesome things that all music lovers could own, right next to Ozzy Osborne’s pubes and Axl Rose’s lobotomised brain.

Martyr Privates are first, and they offer a super ultra dooper cool take on the John Dwyer School of Advanced Garagery. Think super wild overblown fuzz, like a screeching pterodactyl laying eggs on top of your face. Its exposed stoner-fuzz of the highest order.

As for Thigh Master, well everyone knows how much I love these guys. Sassy as Beyonce and local as the kebab shop down the road, these blokes make garage tunes to be danced and cried to. Strung out and bleached beyond recognition, Thigh Master are like that stain that you have on your favourite shirt-technically an imperfection, but one that’s got more character than all the seasons of FRIENDS compiled together.

 

Raindrop-It Goes Off

Now moving onto some stuff that could’ve been demo material from POND’s sessions for ‘Hobo Rocket’. Splashes of psychedelic glam rock, shimmering with the kind of attitude Ziggy Stardust had right before he got devoured by the New Wave scene and not-multi coloured hair. If anything, ‘It Goes Off’ is like a journey, similar to the one’s Unknown Mortal Orchestra ride on. Basically, these are just massive compliments for the debut track from a glorious little Sydney psych band. In three words, it’s fucking good.

 

Wolf Cola-Wolf Cola EP

Wolf Cola sounds like a marketing ploy for a really manly drink. Other contenders for the name were Mountain Lion Pop and Lioness Power Drank. But Wolf Cola won out because its fierce and fast, a lightning bolt to the cock.

Only, the band did away with that sort of marketing bullshit and went with a super chilled cuppa sort of thing, a drink you relax with on your balcony, that’ll put you in a drunken stupor in no time. A mixture of Baileys, Coke and Jack Daniels, on the rocks. Sounds disgusting, but if we didn’t mix random shit we never would’ve gotten the White Russian, and then there would be no Dude.

Wolf Cola (the band) are from Sydney that exemplify that sort of upbeat downer paradox that other bands like The Black Lips, Jay Reatard and Royal Headache did really well, only with a beachy touch that makes it seem like the Beach Boys got together after a month of injecting who knows what. Again, that’s a compliment. The result of Wolf Cola’s debut EP is a mouth agape, drunken howling of amateur rock at its finest. Let the fuzz be turned way up and the bliss release be implanted in all the brains of those lucky enough to be within hearing distance.

 

The Love Junkies-Chemical Motivation

Onto something that swings its dick in your face and smugly begs for you to get fired up so that you can both engage in an old fashioned bar fight, and the bar band strike up an old school Errol Flynn duelling ditty. What a romantic thought and gesture on The Love Junkies part. ‘Chemical Motivation’ is a shock to the system, switching from 60’s smoothness that would have Fred Willard all flustered and mumbling, it engages into a hyperspeed, Nirvana-ish chorus that is an inch away from making you shit yourself. Dat brown note.

 

The Owls-Krakow

For those that like Kasabian comes a Newcastle band that twist some Snowdroppers and Gay Paris on that formulaic shit. The Owls are ready to sleazily move themselves into a level of rock music that only The Hives have really achieved, namely high-energy ballads that make you want to stroll through a manor and box with Daniel Day-Lewis. ‘Krakow’ is the sort of long, strung-out thing that blows minds with the energy of Krakatoa.

The Ninjas-Kill ‘Em All

Look, a chord for chord replication of Metallica’s masterpiece would’ve been nice, but this Velociraptor-ish single fromThe Ninja’s is a radio-ready, rock track that cuts the bullshit to make way for the solo’s. Big, heavy chorus, drooling Cribs-like guitar-Noel Gallagher, Julian Casbalancas and Johnny Marr would be probably be all over this band. Keep up these kinds of smash singles, and I can see The Ninjas supporting The Strokes all around the world.

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