Video: Harvey Eyeballs – Anybody Can Play the Drums

It seems hypocritical to praise a song that is solely about how easy it is to start a band because literally anybody can play the drums, guitar and a bass, and yet here I am, with my dick in my hand, no closer to beginning that Eddy Current Suppression Ring/Run DMC mashup group that I’ve always threatened.

Brooklyn’s Harvey Eyeballs make that temptation so much sweeter, with a series of hypothetical goadings about how fucking uncomplicated it is to play the drums. Shit, they even set up a template of 60’s garage pop, not dissimilar to the sounds of Bleached, Wyatt Blair and Richard In Your Mind. It’s really triumphant, fun stuff, and almost makes me forget all the pains of working in conjunction with people that is such a necessary part of being in a “band”.


New: Black Springs – Burden (of Jealousy)


From Sydney’s own underrated jangle masters Black Springs comes a song that was purpose made to soundtrack middle-aged Jeff Bridges movies. It’s a lolling, eyes-shut tune, somewhere between Wilco and The Cannanes, alt-country tinged dad rock brought to life by a bunch of 20 somethings. Aren’t contradictions wonderful?

New: Hideous Towns – Heart Attack/Skin 7″

Jesus, Hideous Towns are just beautiful creatures, aren’t they? You could totally see David Attenborough doing an entire documentary on them. “Now, look, see here…they delve into that beautiful pasture of noise there…you see that don’t you? It’s a hunting tactic, a process in which the band make themselves as attractive as possible, yes, to lure the unassuming punter into their blinding sheen, and consume them. Remarkable, isn’t it?”

After their spot-on self-titled EP from last year, Hideous Towns have gone and provided everyone’s favourite nature documentarian with enough material for several documentaries. It might only be a two song 7″, but the sheer amount to marvel over, the gaze of Blonde Redhead-meets-The Moles shoegaze pop is just pure goddamn gorgeousness. Hideous Towns are really onto something!

Catch ’em play OAF on the 25th of July w/ The S-Bends, Aloha Units and Hunch!

Kewl New Vids for Kewl Kids: The Pink Tiles + Wives + Pow Pow Kids

Stuff these in your eye holes:

The Pink Tiles – Cut It Out

Pretty much the Melbourne answer to Bloods. Managed to catch these guys doing their thing at a trip to the Tote a few months back – it was real cool! Now, with the aid of a green screen and three chords, you can experience all the magic of the ultra soulful garage rock boppers that The Pink Tiles have got.

Wives – To Sin

Oi, fuck how cool is this? If Siouxsie were even more of a badass, she’d be fronting Wives. It’s fractured guitar pooling underneath urgent vocals spewing vitriol about confessing sins. It’s fantastic in a Lynchian kind of way; whirring confusion being compressed into some tantalising, skin-peeling subversiveness. It finishes way to quickly, and makes the pining for that debut album action all that more powerful.

Pow Pow Kids – Pow Pow Theme

I’ve only ever heard good things about Melbourne’s Pow Pow Kids. They’re doing this sort of wonky, addictive garage speil that borrows from Devo as much as it does The Ramones. Here’ they present their retort to those sitcoms that had their own theme song, because that Too Many Cooks nightmare wasn’t enough. It’s glammy, ridiculous, and the variety of outfits on display is enough to warrant the Oscar for Costuming.

Pow Pow Kids will be on their way to Sydney on July 24th, playing at the Vic in Marrickville with Dumb Punts.

New: WHITE DOG – 452A 7″

WHITE DOG’s debut 7″ is roughly 8 minutes – that’s shorter than how long it takes to eat a single Weetbix without the aid of milk. What’s more, the qualities of WHITE DOG are similar to said Weetbix sliding down your throat: suffocating, scratchy, demonic, delicious.

I heard “No Good” for the first time, and my tits blew off. Now, I’m more muscular than Randy “You’ve Got A Door, You’ve Got A Gym” Couture. Simply listening to this record will shred every inch of fat from you until you’re a lean machine.

Coincidentally, the band that turns everyone into Henry Rollins circa-early 80’s take the best from ‘Damaged’, and hurtle it into the sort of noise that the Terminator made when it was crushed by Sarah Connor in the first, and second best, film in the series.

There is so much to gouge your eyes out over this record and this band. They’re fast, they’re unrelenting, they’re brutal. Their songs are custom-made to be shouted back within an inch from the frontman’s face, flecks of spit flying between you in a disgusting, symbiotic relationship.

This 7″ is incredible. This band is incredible. WHITE DOG are the best new punk band in Sydney. Fuck yeah.


WHITE DOG have two shows coming up – tomorrow night at OAF ($5, w/Polish Club, Cody Munroe Moore etc.) and as part of the FUCK-OFF-THAT’S-GOOD second edition of SPLINTER, which goes down at the Chippo Hotel, and features Horsehunter, Housewives, Orion, GOD K, and a fuck tonne of others.

Gig Review: Bad//Dreems

Saturday 21st June @ GoodGod Small Club

I was 18 when I first saw Bad//Dreems. They played a house party in Redfern, and it was one of the best shows of my goddamn life. There was blood, sweat and enough beer to kill Boonie. The Modern History Exam I had the next day was a complete and utter write off. The examiner that looked through my answers was probably assuming that an illiterate Neanderthal with Parkinsons had adopted my name, and taken the assessment in my place. But it was worth it, oh so worth it, to see a band as good as Baddies play in such a corrupting environment.

Two years on, and Baddies have graduated to one of the most beloved rock acts in our fair country. They’ve got a little blue tick next to their name on Facebook and everything. Fuck, they’ve even got a Twitter account. Isn’t that the very definition of making it? They’ve got big things piling up, so before they crack the charts at No. 1 and play the Enmore Theatre to thousands of adoring fans, they gave the punters another go, and played a few intimate shows around the country to support their latest single “Cuffed and Collared”.

JODY opened proceedings with their brand of anthemic indie rock. These guys are young guns in the truest sense of the words. You can smell the hormones, wafting in tidal waves off their 19 year old bodies. Ladies and gents, please, contain yourselves. I believe a couple of them are single and rearing to go with all the youthful exuberance at their disposal, and that comes through their energy and constant streams of songs about girls. But I wouldn’t go near the frontman, Dom O’Connor. That human pleasure machine can play the fuck outta a guitar, move and hop around a show with the stage presence of Paul Westerberg on the third day of a two week binge, and knows his way around a melody. But he can’t finish a fucking Melbourne Bitter tinnie. No matter how many spot-on jams erupt from this beautiful man’s mouth, like “Never Change” (a spiritual successor to INXS if there ever was one) and “Codeine”, ya just can’t trust a bloke who can’t polish off one of Aus’ greatest gifts. Otherwise, fantastic show!

Mining Boom made the trek North for the Baddies show, and for that, I am forever grateful. Not only are they selling the best t-shirt in the music biz game, but they’ve got the choons to back it up. You know what type of fish Mining Boom would be if they were in the sea? A tune-a. Because they make music that good. It’s broken, fragile rock for the everyman, who owns a pair of dirty Redback’s, and a hi-vis that’s lost its sheen. Songs like “Telecom” and “PDA” are just as powerful gut punches as they were when they were released back in 2012, but the presence that frontman Paul French brings is more of a headspin than chowing down on a whole pack of Champion Ruby. New songs are stunning,  with the Mining Boom aesthetic of drenched, desperate romance remaining intact throughout. Apparently there’s an album in the works, but I don’t think the world is ready for that kind of brilliance. Regardless, you need to check out this band like a bloke from Chernobyl needs to check out that funny looking mark that’s recently developed on his collarbone.

But, look, this is all just pre-game. Bad//Dreems have let the kids have the oval, but it’s time to bring on the big guns. Mayhem erupts as Bad//Dreems launch into their heavy catalogue of top-notch tunes. One could go so far as to call them bangers. It’s pub rock, but delivered without the menace and overt masculinity that has restrained others, like Lubricated Goat and The Birthday Party, from reaching larger audiences. Some might say that’s a bad thing, but hey, different strokes for different folks. Some bands like to get in the nude on the ABC, others like to deliver muscular melodies. And the four flannel-clad guys thundering through hit after hit to the admiration of a few hundred fans were probably the only blokes capable of pulling off both feats.

Bad//Dreems are on fire. They plunder and pillage the room like they’re characters from Game of Thrones, and have a limited amount of time to connect with the audience and become their favourite figures before facing a brutal death at the hands of the Lannisters. The set swells, with excitement and energy being sprinkled through like a zealot chef making the recipe of their career. A heft portion of the a-spicy meatball, aka “Caroline”, swiftly complimented with a smidgen of “Too Old”. A dousing of “Dumb Ideas”, and an overdose of ocker riffs and frenzied headbanging via “Cuffed And Collared”. And to finish? Well, you just can’t leave a stage when the crowd so eagerly wants more, baying for music or blood with the enraged glare of the insane striding so radiantly from their eyes. So, you appease the appetite with a polite offering to the GODs, with the Australian classic of “My Pal” bringing the evening’ festivities to a glorious, sweaty, beer-soaked, suffocating end.

If this is the first you’ve heard of Bad//Dreems, then suck eggs, mate. This is a band bound for big things, and it looks like this GoodGod show might just be the final opportunity for punters to have caught them in intimate settings. But don’t get too offended – there will always be another chance to catch Baddies at a gig, and there’s a fair guarantee that you’ll be sorted for a good time. When a band can upend a crowd with as much joy and over-the-top rock ‘n’ roll perfection as Bad//Dreems accomplished at this show, there’s no doubt that they’ll be able to pull off this feat over and over again, only to bigger crowds and more adoring shitheads such as myself. If you haven’t already, do yourself a favour, and get on board with this band.

Album Review: Hydromedusa – S/T LP

Hydromedusa so metal, they make Ozzy Osborne finally shit out that bat’s head that he swallowed 20 years ago! OOOOOHHHHH! Hydromedusa so metal, Lars Ulrich started his campaign against file sharing again just to spite them out of any cash they might earn! HEEEEEEEEEYYYOOOO! Hydromedusa so metal, Mike Myers decided to digitally remove Alice Cooper’s scene from ‘Wayne’s World’ and replace him with Hydromedusa! BOOOOOOOM!

I can keep doing these all fucking day man, honestly, it’s a non-issue. As long, as I’ve got Hydromedusa in my life, and their sludgy riffs are slushing around in mostly-empty cavern of a skull, then I’ll be dimwittedly repurposing Yo Mama jokes with metal references. Hydromedusa are sick, and attempting to get #Hydromedusasometal trending on the blogosphere is the least I could do. Actually, the least I could do would be to immediately stop making jokes and write a few doggamn words about how good they are. So, I’ll probably do that, hey.

Take your mind back to when Black Sabbath and Motorhead were at their most debauched and demented. When a dozen lines of speed and a sacrifice to an Aztec demi-god was considered an acceptable substitute for the morning coffee? Well, take that manic pose, and strike it in the middle of Adelaide. The City of Churches is well known for pumping out its fair share of darker material (Wireheads, Rule of Thirds, Danny Whitten’s Veins), but Hydromedusa take it to a more eccentric and obvious level. They play like it’s their mission to overcome Kyuss’ legacy, and they’re not afraid to show it either. The riffs Hydromedusa play are peeled from the residue of a cone-piece, and tendrils of smoke linger with menace. They’re deadly, pungent, decadent, dripping in a slow-grinding fervour that makes the butterflies in my stomach begin to thrash and headbang with almost the same zeal as my own fucking cranium.

An album of simple, plunging riffs is something that can quickly turn into Deep Purple territory, but Hydromedusa are careful to tread that line with interjections where it appears like the Dark Lord himself is making an appearance in the recording studio. The thundering opening of “Company Man” is as close to riding out of the gates of Hell as we’ll come. The maelstrom of “Bells” sears the flesh with the same flame that wrought Sleep and High On Fire. And “Wintertime Blues” whips and cracks with an unrelenting fury, an impeding force of metallic churning and guitar solos alight with embers stoked from Satan’s own coffee machine.

Hydromedusa may ape their idols, but that’s okay, because they’re bringing the same ball-crunching, spleen-splitting, eye-gouging, tongue-wrenching, soul-consuming, body-engulfing spirit that made their heroes deliver such good music. They’re metal, in a traditional sense, and Australia can occasionally feel sparse in that regard. If ever the time calls for some boiling sludge that occasionally explodes into vitriolic gashes of metal that looks over its shoulder, reach no further than this Hydromedusa record.

Grab it from Hydromedusa’s Bandcamp here, available now through Tym Records.

PREMIERE: Mallee Songs – Water

You plebeians have all heard of Beko Disques, yeah? French label that’s supported Australian music in the same way that goon supports the drinking habits of students everywhere? They’ve put out records by Day Ravies, PILLS, Cool Sounds, KID XL, Hideous Towns and Parading, just to name a fraction. That’s the kind of resume that get’s employer’s mouths salivating.

Hence, it’s a fucking pleasure to premiere a new track from Beko Disques stable. An amalgamation of Melbourne, Geelong and Japan injections, Mallee Songs has developed from a solo project to a fully-fledged band. And oh, how full of a sound do they possess! Woods, Ducktails, and DIIV all shine through here, gooey guitars splashing onto some goddamn SERENE vocals. Did it hurt, Mallee Songs? When you fell from heaven? ‘Cos you’re an angel. A fucking angel, mate.


New: Black Stone From the Sun – Post Stress

Black Stone From the Sun are the peak body of Perth’s very apparent slobbering for recreating 90’s rock. On the one hand, you gotta make the joke about how Perth is, “just so far behind the times, grunge only just hit the airwaves over there”. LOL. GOOD ONE, M9, YOU’RE FUCKING KILLING IT WITH THE WIT THESE DAYS, BRUH. *hi-fives self, rides off into the sunset, damsel nuzzling around the chest, slab of VB tinnies tucked into the shoulder, all-knowing smirk creasing an otherwise godlike face*

But where the crunchy riffs of Black Stone from the Sun are concerned, you can’t help but go – well, shit mate, those 90’s bands were onto something. At the time, every record label had their dick in their hand, signing whatever band with a fuzz pedal their jizz happened to land on. That’s how a band like Stone Temple Pilots exists. Shooting star, the more you know.

Bands like Bleach-era Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, Mudhoney inform Black Stone From the Sun’s tried-and-true aesthetic. They’re not re-inventing the wheel, but, to quote the great Danaerys Targaryan, they’re going to break the wheel. Armed with disembowelling riff, a snarling bellow, and the ability to conjure more noise than a 21st set at a bush doof, Black Stone From the Sun score the official seal of “fucking legends”.

PREMIERE: The Cathys – Hysterical Monument 7″


I’ve long been a fan of The Cathys, a ramshackle pop outfit from Sydney. They put out a teensy weensy EP in 2013, which is well worth checking out if your favourite pasttimes include “being serenaded by whimsical guitars”.

The Cathys disappeared from view for a little while, but they’re back, seeing a change in the lineup and a little more clairty to their sound. Their debut 7″, ‘Hysterical Monument”, is a spot on education on how to make the mythical two minute pop song. Combining subtle, plain guitar riffs with plodding bass and Sam Giddey’s quavering Lou Reed/Iggy Pop/J Mascis mumble yelp, The Cathys make some really  fantastic digs at pop music.

“Heart Disease” and “Loan” are particularly good encapsulations of The Cathys, sparkly strains of Jonathan Richman pop wherein the dark comedy takes centre stage, bolstered by shuffling, buoyant riffs. A song like, “Loan” which makes vomiting sound as pleasant as a Sunday brunch at the wharf,  slung around a bright, absent-minded melody, is something that’s warranted to leave an impression. If your game is skewed pop music, then you can’t really go past this 7″.

The Cathys’ ‘Hysterical Monument’ is out tomorrow, and you can grab it at The Cathys’ Bandcamp here. All physical copies come with a SAM GIDDEY COMIC. The Cathys have a bunch of great shows coming up to celebrate the release – the shindigs kick off on Thursday, 18th June at The Union Hotel in Newtown (with Disgusting People and Drowning Fleets!), followed by shows in Canberra and Melbourne.