New: Leather Towel – The Message

9381_714110971948066_1574488204_n

As soon as Leather Towel kick off with their machine gun drum rolls and bulldozer-to-the-skull charge of the guitar on “The Message”, you’re strapped in, Guantanamo Bay-style, for an absolute flaying. It’s urgent punk that barely spills over a minute, but it’ll grate your cheek into the sidewalk for the full 75 seconds. Make sure you wear a helmet and kneepads, that solo at the end will try to kill you.

Leather Towel will be in Sydney this Friday, playing an LP launch at the Marrickville Bowlo with Lumpy and the Dumpers (USA), Oily Boys and Houswives.

Advertisements

New Aus Punk: Destiny 3000 + Cereal Killer + Woollen Kits + Nailhouse

11891860_606665819475744_6903178948804715122_o

Destiny 3000 – Destiny 3000 7″

This record has been on the burner since the second best Fast and Furious movie was released (Furious 6, for those keeping score at home). Destiny 3000 haven’t played all that many shows either in recent history, which is a shame, because they will make your ears bleed and your heart swoon. But putting all of that aside, they have finally released a record, and it is worth all the droning Vin Diesel monologues about family in the world.

This 7″ is just so fantastic in every aspect. Coated in grime, guitars battling for supremacy, and an overall disaffected garage pop aesthetic that puts Destiny 3000 next to Australia’s premiere shredders like Angie, Miss Destiny, and The Friendsters. Although only four songs long, and attached with a mild uncertainty as to if Destiny 3000 will stick around to record anything more (knock on wood), this 7″ will, at the very least, form some sort of legacy for a deserving band.

Cereal Killer – Track 1

Barely nudging past one minute, Cereal Killer put a whole lot of other punk bands to shame in a deft swoop of snotty, thumb-biting vocals and flailing guitars. It’s dine and dash punk, a flurry of distraction action that gets you all exhilarated…”What’s happening?”, “This is great!”, “I hope this song goes on forever!”…before finishing in the same amount of time as a the life cycle of a mayfly with a heroin problem.

Woollen Kits – Girl With Heart 7″

Not really a punk band, but you’re too far through the “article” (and I do mean that in the loosest definition possible) to stop now. C’mon, I believe in you. Besides, you’ll like Woollen Kits, I guarantee it. They’re easily the most underrated band in their genre of strummed guitar pop…how the fuck can a band release two perfect albums and still not be gracing the cover of the New Musical Express with fancy haircuts and a hyperbolic headline*? How are Woollen Kits not best mates with Johnny Depp?

The time will come when Woollen Kits are rubbing shoulders with Hollywood’s sharpest dressed, and botox treatments are referred to as “Lazy Tuesdays with Alan Rickman”. Until then, feel free to crash into some more-of-the-blessed-same pop via the brief but welcome Girl With Heart 7″.

*The irony of me calling out someone on irony is registered.

Nailhouse – Nailhouse

Straight outta Newcastle is some punk of the demonic variety. Nailhouse share a lot in common with FANG and Flipper, preferring to indulge in feedback-laden drones of nihilism than any sort of accessibility scheme. Built from steely glares and throat-crunching cries, Nailhouse climb on top of their own precarious lodgings of noise, only to fling themselves off. It’s music that could only come from a forgotten town like Newcastle, where the cultural cringe is worn on the sleeve. Frayed and loaded with loathing, Nailhouse’s “March” stands out strongly as a despairing track on a despairing tape from a despairing band in a pretty alright city.

Album Review: Wet Blankets – Rise of Wet Blankets

When I was 15/16 years old, you wanna know what I was doing? Jerking off, and begging strangers that seemed the perfect mix of sympathetic and old to buy me and my shitty mates booze. I thought Wavves were edgy, and that taking a girl to Maccas and shouting her lunch was a “pretty good first date”. I knew I was smarter than everyone, and that when I was a millionaire from all that punk music (read: THE NEW NOFX ALBUM) I would take a big ol’ shit on the lawn of everyone who said that I was weird because I listened to “Enter Sandman”. Doncha know that’s fucking metal?

It wouldn’t be until about a year later that I went through the enlightening discovery that there was more to Australian rock music than Powderfinger, but this story ain’t about me. As intriguing as it would be to recount just how many Prodigy CD’s I bought, this reflection of who I was at 16 is less of an attempt to trace everything to the exact point of when I realised how much of a fucking loser I am, and more of a gobsmacked appreciation of Wet Blankets.

Wet Blankets is the project of Zane Gardner, a bloke straight outta Geelong. I refuse to call him a kid, because he’s got his head screwed on better than the majority of fuckwits that run this country. Furthermore, he’s evidently got a damn fine music taste, judging by the way he propels through his debut album. There are touchstones throughout the ‘Rise of Wet Blankets’ that sure as shit put my high school musical obsessions to shame. Whereas most teenagers are happy to numbingly plod along to Disclosure and Selena Gomez, Zane has obviously been thrashing The Reatards, Dead Boys and Cosmic Psychos. Fuck, I would’ve killed to have had the foresight to give those artists a chance and to have sought them out earlier than I did.

‘Rise of Wet Blankets’ doesn’t even stretch for 20 minutes, but the amount of sweat, puke and fuzz that’s loaded in here could kill an unsuspecting high school student faster than synthetic weed and a free period with nothing to do. The guitar solos on here are as deranged as an ‘Nam flashback, the yelling and screaming puts spoiled rich kids to shame, and the dark humour wouldn’t feel out of place in a Bret Easton Ellis novel.

What makes this record so impressive is how organic it feels. Zane mmade one actually?doesn’t shy away from his age, or try to mask it with some sort of bullshit maturity. No, the repulsion for the kind of shit that annoys people under the age is rampant in the record, like hating on school in “Kits”, dealing with dipshits on “Marge is A Wet Blanket” and struggling to sleep on “Fridge Too Far”. You know why you can’t sleep? You’re too fucking loud!

From the first second, to the last, this record is relentless, a no holds barred cage match of ear-bleeding guitar. It’s the perfect record to encapsulate the teenage experience, with all its acne and inability to talk to girls. And what’s more, its music that won’t make you ashamed to have listened to in your pimply years – Wet Blankets is a band that can, and will, be adored at all ages.

New: The Living Eyes – High Standards

Geelong aka Rock n Roll City, has bred all sorts of legendary acts, but one of the finer cases is The Living Eyes. Following on from their 2013 debut LP, The Living Eyes have returned with a single that announces a new album, ‘Living Large’.

Announce isn’t the right word – they’re style probably aligns closer with obnoxious lambasting, brash and loud to the point where GG Allin might even recoil. “High Standards” certainly raises the bar to extraordinary levels, and if The Living Eyes can keep their energy levels to the manic heights of the average Ren & Stimpy cartoon, then ‘Living Large’ should be one of the rock n roll releases of 2015.

New: The Living Eyes – Guilty Pleasures

The fucking ruthless Geelong-ians known as The Living Eyes are back to shred your minds and ambitions to become a better garage band than they are. They’re latest is a track called “Guilty Pleasures”, which re-invents the entire definition of high-octane. If surf rock were catapulted into space without an astronaut helmet, rocketing into the stratosphere at eye-bulging G-Forces, the resulting sonic boom would sound a little like this 2 minute extravaganza. To speak bluntly, this thing is more dangerous than working a buzzsaw without gloves and after a half dozen schooeys.

Top 5 Records w/ Anti Fade Records/The Living Eyes

It’s a well established fact that I fucking love Anti Fade Records. They’ve put out killer release after killer fucking release. Don’t believe me? Here you go, you doubtful swine: Gooch Palms, Straight Arrows, The Bonniwells, Austmuteants, The Clits, Cobwebbs, Housewives, The Kremlings, The Frowning Clouds…fuck, I’m out of breath. Point being, this label is the centre of the universe when it comes to garage rock that’ll whip your pants off and blow you. Speaking of the centre of the universe, Anti Fade have also released two compilations called ‘NEW CENTRE OF THE UNIVERSE’ and they fucking rule. Best cassettes I’ve ever bought.

You may have noticed I left out a very important band in the list of Anti Fade releases, namely The Living Eyes. That’s because I wanted to create dramatic tension/talk about it in this paragraph, you living splooge stain. Anyway, The Living Eyes adhere to the Anti Fade rule of kicking copious amounts of ass. Just check this video for ‘Eat It Up’:

Did you fucking see that? Or were you blinded by the way that it makes everything else you’ve listened to in the past 48 hours sound like the sound of a disinterested dog scratching its balls? Either way, consider yourself lucky as you read the Top 5 Records of Billy from The Living Eyes/Anti Fade Records fame. I sure do.

Chrome-Red Exposure
Anybody into Chrome will most likely know how much of a fan I am already, since I nicked the label name from them. I took it from the chorus of this song, even though they have a different song altogether called Anti-Fade. This song’s better though!
There’s heaps of cool stuff on this album and I’m always amazed at the weird overdubs and sick production on it, considering its only two dudes performing and recording the whole thing.
The Kinks-The Kinks Are the Village Green Appreciation Society
Even though this album is known to drag out a bit towards the end – I still reckon its amazing. The first 10 songs are all completely second to none. The last 5 are still great but maybe not as great. Sick song writing and drumming – tempo changes in ‘Walter’ and ‘Animal Farm’ are so good. It was real hard to pick just one song to preview here
The Soft Boys-Underwater Moonlight
Most recent LP I heard on this list. Only got into it in the last 6 – 8 months. Great lyrics, great bass lines, great lead breaks, the works. Pretty bangin’! The lead break after the chorus in this song gets me every time, I don’t think it’ll ever get old.
DEVO-Duty Now For the Future
I really can’t pick between the first two Devo albums. I was a bigger fan of the first one for ages but the second has been getting a lot more spins over the last year so I listed it here. It’s a bit more weird which is good. There’s too many hits to pick from on here anyway.
The Saints-Eternally Yours
Australia’s finest. Even though they’d moved to London by this point, it’s still Aussie! Pretty much same deal as the Devo one – very on par with the first LP. I like the direction they take on this one though, little less punk (in a good way) and self-produced. Plenty of good riffs that ya just can’t argue with.
*The embeds are messing up, not sure what’s wrong with them.

Gig Review: King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard

Thursday 10th April @ The Roller Den

Fuck man. King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard amirite? Four albums in 18 months? That’s like me completing a university assignment on time-fucking impossible! Hell, you’d be better off getting me to hold a conversation with someone who doesn’t know who the Black Lips are than stopping King Gizzard from pumping out new, consistently mind-blowing material. That’s why everyone who wanted to get bits of their highest expectations exploded out of their skull attended the Gizz’s show in Erskineville that Thursday night.

The night opened with local psychers Raindrop. A damn good performance, but nothing to write home about. Worth chucking a text or a sneaky e-mail to your mate who digs on Tame Impala and POND though. The guys were pretty stereotypical psych lords, long haired dudes with cool shirts, busting out long, droning solos and wrapping the audiences’ head in a hefty sheet of reverb. Overall, everyone who was on drugs (90% of the crowd) loved Raindrop, and the others wore a smile of content.

Next up though, were garage punk kings The Living Eyes. The singer/guitarist Billy runs Anti-Fade records, one of the finest churners of garage and punk in the Southern Hemisphere, so no doubt his own band are going to be fucking sick. The guy with the balls to press records from The Gooch Palms, Wet Blankets and Ausmuteants is obviously a guy with the balls to blitz the fuck out of a show.

And blitz they did, raining down a storm of riffs and fuzz fury on an unsuspecting crowd that quickly turned into a mosh of Slayer proportions. Seriously, it was like a bukkake of guttural guitar and howling,wretched garage rock. The crowd couldn’t get enough of the ferocity on stage; even when a string broke and the band awkwardly waited for a replacement onstage, they had no trouble rolling back into oblivion-mode when a new guitar began it’s thrashing induction. ‘Ways to Make A Living’ and ‘Eat It Up’ packed particularly intense Mike-Tyson ear-chewing punches. There was a do-or-die vibe, like the B-52’s meeting Bass Drum of Death competing in a fiery go-kart race where everyone dies in an explosion of tyre and garage fuzz at the end.

Finally, the Gizz got onstage, and the only conceivable problem was how they were going to fit all seven members on stage. They managed, a lot better than on the considerably smaller stage at FBi Social on the Saturday night, and the show got into full swing quicker than an episode of Game of Thrones kills off a major character. Immediately, ear drums were blown, and a roiling mass of bodies began. The Gizz played with passion and perseverance, eliciting the kind of vibrancy that you’d rarely see at a gig.

The material mainly stuck to the previous two album releases-this year’s ‘Oddments’ and last year’s ‘Float Along-Fill Your Lungs’. Basically, that meant that the songs could range anywhere between three minutes and ‘Head On/Pill’ sixteen minute-plus extravaganza. But all the material showed off a new-side of the band that allowed the audience to revel and indulge in carnal dancing and excitement, like a seven-pieced psychedelic Dungeons & Dragons die.

For example, ‘Sleepwalker’ was entrancing like the best Animal Collective material, whilst ‘Hot Wax’, was a primal seeper, divulging in a mud-caked, bass-driven firecracker that is best set off after a batch of bad acid acid in the swamps of Perth. And the fact that ‘Head On/Pill’ has upwards of five muscular, pile-driving sections where all the audience is allowed to do is headbang and thrash is a testament to what kind of insane beast King Gizzard are in the live format.

Seeing this band live is a 100% must. They’re like a version of the Planeteers that were obssessed with the Nuggets compilations instead of hanging out with a guy with a green mullet that painted himself blue-apart, they’re just a bunch of long-haired minstrels. But together, and attached to their various instruments-a harmonica, a guitar, a theremin, a drum kit, whatever- their powers combine to form a loud, real and impossibly addictive show that will fuck up your ears and make every nerve ending in your body resemble a fried composition of total happiness.

Video: The Frowning Clouds-Beetle Bird

The Frowning Clouds are fucking awesome, and anyone who disagrees is simply in the middle of an acid flashback, and should come to their senses shortly.

Seriously, check out the new video for their track ‘Beetle Bird’. It’s got a hippie cult chilling in the desert, a gangster tiger, a cat-affected cross between Elton John and Silence of the Lamb’s Buffalo Bill, and a cute as fuck dog playing the keyboard. WHAT!? That’s so crazy awesome! And there’s a grooving, semi-Eastern ball-tripper of a song propelling the video forward to even greater heights? Holy shit, Ryan, how do I get in contact with this band so I can force them into musical slavery? Quick answer to that is: you can’t, Iggy Pop’s already done it. Man, fuck Iggy Pop.

 

‘Strayan Video(s) Pt. 1: Ross De Chene Hurricanes + Babaganouj + High-Tails + Jasper Clifford Smith + Zanzibar Chanel + Community Radio

G’day, glorious wanker Ryan Saar here. Hope you’re enjoying the shit-hot Friday that we’re having in Sydney. It’s shit-hot because it’s hot and that’s shit. For those curled up in a ball in their bedroom, echoing my exact movements, I’ve prepared something for your eyeballs. A tonne of videos that have the strength and charisma of 10,000 Vladimir Putins. If you haven’t shat yourself at the thought of all that awesome, then prepare your anus for a visual escapade you won’t soon forget…

Ross De Chene Hurricanes-Personality Disorder

Boom! First cab off the rank is one of my favourite Aussie garage bands. And I do mean rank-these guys are underfed, tired, and smell like a ferret that’s been living in hobo’s asshole, just like all good garage bands. That’s how they’re able to pump out such glorious tunes like ‘Personality Disorder’. Although considerably slower than previous material like ‘Umm, Yeah I Surf’ and ‘The Jailbird’, it still holds the whirlwind fuzz and brawling bravado of those tracks. So really, there’s nothing left to do but jam and rock out like the kid in the video #dancelikenobodyswatching.

Babaganouj-Too Late For Love

Holy cheese dipped nutsack! It’s the new one from Babaganouj, the band from Brisbane with more pop sensibilities than a duet between mid-80’s Kylie and Boy George. Add in some lackadaisical  guitars and head-tilted, eyes-closed, half-smile lyrics and there’s a recipe for total content. Similar to other Brisbanauts like Major Leagues, Go Violets and Jeremy Neal, Babaganouj are certainly a band to blow your lid off to. What’s more, they managed to film a clip that captures the sunshine-saturated pop to a scary extent. There’s heart shaped sunnies, swings and a ginger? Count me in!

Fuggn go see ’em play with Chicks Who Love Guns and The Cathys on the 21st of March at MUM @ The World Bar.

High-Tails-Bending Over Backwards

Some more pop rock, this time courtesy of Sydney newcomers High-Tails. The clip kinda just shows off the band playing their instruments, and a couple shots of lamps and washing up here and there. Oh wait, what the fuck!? He’s got a gun! He’s pointing it into his ear! GG Allin may have shat in his hand, but at least he never tried to kill a bandmate! We’re all doomed, we’re fucked! We’ll never hear another bombastic and anthemic chorus like the one showcased in ‘Bending Over Backwards’ again (sorry) because there was a shootout on set! And the singer’s just chilling there, laughing his ass off. Truly, High-Tails are a collection of deranged maniacs if ever there were one, but at least they’ve got killer (sorry again) tunes.

Jasper Clifford Smith-Fight

I cannot get over how unruly and unhinged this song is. It’s like if Kirin J Callinan was fused with Optimus Prime and turned onto battle mode. It’s a thumping, dangerous track that’s a beat away from starting a riot all on its lonesome. It’s a self-loathing, self-propelled, fully functional anarchy machine that uses synths and loops as its sword and shield, and Mr. Smith’s provoking vocals as a head-long charge into the reckless endangerment, both for the cause of fucking shit up and simply for the fun of it.

That’s not even touching the off-kilter brilliance of the video. Take your average day of revolutionary shenanigans, and then unsettle that shit by putting a negative-colour spin on it. Boom, you’ve got a video that makes your loins wet and your instincts keel over in terror.

Zanzibar Chanel-ASS

Zanzibar Chanel are all about the retro sounds and look. It’s hard to place them, but they’re kind of like if lounge music was being directed by Wes Anderson. It’s quirky normality is offputting and completely enthralling in the same breath. ‘ASS’ is no different, both in audio and visual contexts. From the FRESH PRINCE bubble writing that introduces the clip, to the smooth bass funk that worms its way around a montage of VHS-ridden debauchery. There’s butt-slammin’ keyboards, drag-queens and gluttonous excess that would make the Wolf of Wall Street blush. By that, I mean there’s champagne at one point. AWESOME!

Community Radio-Sick In the Car

Community Radio rule harder than the rules of Aussie Rules being ruled by a plastic ruler. I post about them pretty frequently, but that’s only because they never release bad shit. The latest track to get my titties in a knot is ‘Sick In the Car’. It’s a shoegaze slow burner of the highest variety, accompanied by a clip of old school footage of random shit. The effect is psychedelica incarnate. Beautiful, brooding Yo La Tengo-ish rhythms hunting behind a simple chorus and flashing footage that leans between scary as fuck eyeballs, nightclub scenes, the ocean and the song’s namesake-car trips. Stunning.

Album Review: The Gooch Palms-Novo’s

Image

Holy. Fucking. Shit. Holy. Fucking. Shit. No, that was not a simple control-paste mistake, I have more journalistic integrity than that. This record is just so fucking good that it is inherently necessary to repeat oneself in complete gobsmacked appreciation. Honestly, listening to this thing, you basically just want to go find this band and follow them around for life, with the small glimmer of hope that you can caress their genius. The Gooch Palms craft perfect garage. Let me repeat that: perfect garage. Absolutely perfect, there is no fault, no fuck up, no shoddy workmanship. Why? Because The Goochies pride themselves on their faults, their fuck-ups and shoddy workmanship. They put it out all on display: they smacked-out guitar riffs, the contemporary-bogan-meets-1970’s punk vocals, the drumming that has the consistency of a Newcastle steel factory circa-the glory days…it’s all there. Everything you could want in a record. NIHILISM! FUN! GARGANTUAN CATCHINESS! It’s all fucking there.

In case you’re the kind of person that reads the entire Itunes Terms and Conditions agreement before clicking ‘I Agree’, here’s a further analysis of what makes His & Her Royal Goochiness rock n roll legends with their album ‘Novo’s’. The album opens with perhaps it’s best song ‘We Get By’ (I say perhaps, because this is an album comparable to ‘Nevermind’ or whatever, and these records are fucking full of ‘best songs’). ‘We Get By’ is romantically simplistic, providing a lovingly youthful outset on life, following the age-old adage of ‘it’s just me and you, and that’s all right’ WHICH IS COINCIDENTALLY THE CHORUS OMG GUYZ THIS SONG SPEAKS TO ME!. ‘We Get By’ is just such a well crafted song, it is mind-blowing that doves don’t burst out of trees in a perfect V every time this song plays (Get your shit together doves).

The record progresses with a bunch more songs that makes the heart swell, the eyes close in orgasmic pleasure, and all of time slow to GMT (Goochies Mean Time). There are a lot of themes that present themselves. Firstly, there’s the theme of ‘How fucking great is it to be in a band?!’, as shown in ‘Loudest Mouth’, a stormy, brat punk track that gives Cyndi Lauper a run for her money. Secondly, there’s the nods to their hometown of Newcastle. The record’s called Novo’s, which is apparently a derogatory term for the Newcastle folk. Well, the title track is a jarring thing, churning out a rhythm that blasts with the power of a Mortal Kombat special move, and ‘Hunter Street Mall’, a love song to Newcastle boredom, features one of my favourite aspects of The Gooch Palms: the yelps of ecstasy that sound like Kermit the Frog getting high on helium and jizzing at the same time. Musical perfection. Finally, there’s power ballads…and these bad boys sound better than David Lee Roth personally coming to your house and howling into your ear for hours on end. ‘You’ and ‘Don’t Cry’ are two fucking brilliant tracks, and show that The Goochies don’t just go full pelt into headlong wreckin’ oblivion, like T-Rex’s on a velociraptor rampage. Nup, the Goochies can slow dance with you at your prom with the best of them. They may be rockin’ heart-shaped sunnies and a Ramones t-shirt, but fuck you if you don’t believe for one second that they’ll give you the best waltz you’ve ever had.

To conclude, this album is, yep I’ll say it again, perfection. It is objective perfection. There is nothing wrong with this album, everything is just right. The Gooch Palms play and sing what they know. They won’t bullshit you with some glossed over fuckwad of a tune, they will just pelt out a heartfelt bulldozer of a track that will crush your mind with gooey appreciation. Listening to The Gooch Palms is like heroin or Disney Land: one hit and it will change your fucking life. You’ll be able to brush the dirt off and say to yourself ‘Well, I may be infested with seven different STI’s, owe half a million in unpaid parking fees, and have a foetus growing out of my left nostril, but at least I got the Goochies!’.

Go buy this fucking album. That’s a fucking order. It’ll be available at your local record store, on CD and vinyl. ‘Novo’s’ ‘officially’ came out on Friday 4th October, but it’s been available for at least a week. So now, you have no excuse not to own this slice of holiness.

And to catch this slice of holiness live and in the flesh, all one needs to do is hop along to Hotel Street on Friday 11th October, where the Goochies will be wreaking absolute havoc.