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.

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New: Housewives/Ausmuteants – Brown Out/I Wanna Sedate You

FUUUUUCK! You read that title correctly! Unworthy scum of the planet, let your eyes blister in awe at the fact that Oz-straya’s two greatest punk bands are teaming up for a 7″ that’ll blow your mind higher than a henchmen facing the wrongend of Schwarznegger’s rocket launcher in the forgotten classic ‘Commando’.

However, both bands have chucked a bit of a sneaky; they’ve released new songs, but the originals are yet to see the light of the Internet. Instead, they wrote a track each, and then sent the lyrics and chords to their counterparts, and told them to cover it. Smart, ya see, because now there’s nothing to go off, and two of the most houndingly creative bands in this fair brown land are free to beat the shit out of each other’s music.

Despite being covers, both Ausmuteants and Housewives respective styles are in full display. The stocky, sharp propulsion of Housewives is in full flight, bumbling shouts dribbling over fisty-cuff inducing guitar squeals. And Ausmuteants have got their Devo-meets-Chrome crossover at its deranged best, yelping lyrics meeting ferocious blackouts of noise.

The final motion of greatness? This 7″ is coming out on renowned label Total Punk, who have one of the best track records when it comes to releasing incredible punk music. Lumpy and the Dumpers, Buck Biloxi & the Fucks, and Golden Pelicans are just a few of the gems you can find on their Soundcloud. If you’re ever crate-digging and see that signature raised fist bearhug isigna, shell out whatever the asking price is, because once we hit the year 2025, these treasures are going to be worth more than H20 on this inevitably scorched Earth.  You know, cause Obama’s gonna hit the nuke button at the end of his term, and destroys us all? When that happens, records like this Hosuewives/Ausmuteants split are what will cool those third degree burns and soften the fact that you are chewing on the bones of your loved ones in the cruel apocalypse.

Top 10 Australian Albums of 2014

It’s that time of year, when I sell my soul, and conform to the expectation that all blogs, no matter how small and shitty (of which Soundly Sounds is both) needs to compile an end of year list, summarising all the great things that have been accomplished by the fair artists of the year. Now, if you’ve ever been on this blog, or heard words out of my mouth, it becomes apparent that I have a habit of hyperbole, and describing everything as “my favourite” or “the best thing ever”. Well, now it’s time to pay up, and show what I, King Deadshit, reckon is the best of the best this year.

Albums are probably the most important listicle for me, personally, because they are the full form of creative expression for the artist. A single song, video clip or show can take certain things out of context, bolster aspects for the strongest appeal, and add new factors that increase the credibility. But with the album format, the artist has the range and capability to express themselves to their full extent. Sometimes, that leaves bands boring and stuggling for things to say and at other times there are plenty of gems to be found that represent the artist more fully than the ‘singles’ can convey.

If you haven’t heard any of the following albums, I beg you to go forth and purchase a copy. These artists deserve your attention.

Honourable Mentions: Jack Ladder & The Dreamlanders (‘Playmates’), Ciggie Witch (‘Rock And Roll Juice’), Ernest Ellis (‘Cold Desire’), Pronto (‘When You’re Gone’) Andras & Oscar (‘Cafe Romantica’) Jonathan Boulet (‘Gubba’) Bloods (‘Work It Out’), Nun (‘Nun’), SPOD (‘Taste the Sadness’) Donny Benet (‘Weekend At Donny’s’) Collarbones (‘Return’).

10. Lowtide – Lowtide

Both heartbreaking and riveting, Lowtide unveiled a shoegaze masterpiece with their debut record. Flawless reverb was achieved, a statement that is almost never uttered. What’s more, the band interjected excitable gems like “Wedding Ring” and “Held” to prove they could do more than poignant and mouth-watering dream-pop shudders. (Review Here)

9. Straight Arrows – Rising

There’s something rising alright, and its not just the pulse of this record. A 60’s bonanza of loose Nuggets nods with the breakneck pace that we’ve come to adore from Owen Penglis. “Petrified” will never lose its cooler-than-Kim-Deal aura, “Never Enough” will never not be accompanied by headbanging, and “Make Up Your Mind’ will never make you not sweat like a guy who just popped pills in a rave in the Sahara. (Review Here)

8. Yes, I’m Leaving – Slow Release

Four albums in, and YIL have fully embraced their aggressive and blisteringly amazing potential. The way that three dudes from Sydney managed to make music that completely replicated THAT scene from Total Recall is mindblowing (pun intended, motherfucker). Strangling brutality ensues at an unbelievable rate, and the result is must-hear. Yes, I’m Leaving have made punk exciting again. (Review Here)

7. Scotdrakula – Scotdrakula

Melbourne’s Scotdrakula released an album so heart-stoppingly fun and eccentric, you would swear you’re at a theme park run by Tim & Eric. The record was a singles-fest, from the h8r-proof “O’Clock”, to “Shazon” impractically kicking more ass than a buddy cop film from the 1970’s. The yelps, riffs and good times of this album are as addicting as crack, and 10x more fun. (Review Here)

6. Bearhug – So Gone

Bearhug impressed beyond belief with their sophomore effort, lush pools of guitar gliding gently but effectively. For the duration of their second record, Bearhug never failed to impress, creating deep wells of greatness. What’s more, the songs were so packed that every listen brought on a new subtle technique or riff to bubble with joy over. (Review Here)

5. Ausmuteants – Order of Operation

Hilarious, snarky and brutally underrated, Ausmuteants released their third, and best record, this year. Attacking a variety of subjects, from porn, to unoriginality, to just being angry at fucking everything, like if Devo made ‘Sorry Ma, Forgot to Take Out The Trash’. Beautifully loud obnoxious, like a Geelong-ised Cartman that loves The Monks, Ausmuteants are the punk band that Australia doesn’t need, but the one it deserves. (Review Here)

4. Step-Panther – Strange, But Nice

Going from a band of shredders that liked to make songs about fat kids getting abducted and teenage romance to something that people wanted to take seriously was always going to be hard, but Step-Panther achieved that with their stupefyingly good second record. As naked as open-heart surgery, Step-Panther laid things bare for a mind-numbingly good album, in the truest sense of the word. There’s a journey here, a quest guided by back-breaking guitar solos, bloody doom riffs and stories as wholesome as The Goonies. (Review Here)

3. The Ocean Party – Soft Focus

The Ocean Party have always been consistent, but on their fourth album, they’ve wrought an album of genius. ‘Soft Focus’ is packed with songs that tug on the ol’ heart, yearning lyrics pushing through walls of sound that recall The Triffids at their best. If you’ve ever wanted to immerse yourself in a record, “Soft Focus” is the easiest, and most likeable, of your options, a straight-up pop album masked in woefully gorgeous jangle. (Review Here)

2. Weak Boys – Weekdays/Weekends

Weak Boys, a Sydney supergroup made of Internet Sensations™, Dollar Bar contributors and Craig Lyons, quietly released an Australian classic this year on par with The Castle and Tony Abbott’s budgie smugglers. A diverse smorgasbord of guitar-pop and mope-rock, “Weekdays/Weekends” is fuelled by self-deprecation, glistening humour and a catchiness that rivals Taylor Swift. It is fantastic in so many indescribable ways, an encapsulation of the Australian, or at least Sydney, lifestyle in much the same way The Go-Betweens probably did back before Y2K. From the ode to Rice Is Nice’s Julia Wilson, to the plight of the hungover, Diane Keaton-pining miser (read: everyone), “Weekdays/Weekends” was both the most underrated release of 2014, and one of the best. (Review Here)

1. Blank Realm – Grassed Inn

‘Grassed Inn’ was released in January of 2014, a time when most records are easily forgotten about by the time Year-End Lists roll around. At here we are, December, and Blank Realm still reign supreme. Topping a list on some shitty blog is nowhere near the recognition this album deserves – it is a masterpiece. Off-kilter pop that hurts and burns, burrowing into the emotional conscious with such an ease, you’d think it was a Nicholas Sparks novel. From the droning weirdness of a Spiritualized/New Order hybrid to the embracement of hurt that a Johhny Cash/Robert Smith duet would reveal, a pool of influences are on display, embraced to create something magnificently unique. Wrapped in the keytar-adoring hands of Blank Realm, music is a malleable, smudged and sincerely uplifting creature that restores faith. Superb in every word, ‘Grassed Inn’ is essential for everyone. (Review Here)

Album Review: Ausmuteants – Order of Operation

Here’s the thing – people have got to know about this band. Sure, this is just some shitty personal blog, but if someone happens to stumble across it looking for midget porn, and finds this album, then I’ve done my job as a douchey Internet denizen. There’s almost no way that Ausmuteants won’t become their new favourite band. They’re just too fucking brilliant, visceral and goddamn authentic to be ignored.

For a little more context, Ausmuteants ripped their name off some Brazilian band, and inserted enough haywire, schizophrenic synths and noisy feedback to warrant any original members from Suicide to drop their instruments in despair. Coming outta Geelong, Ausmuteants feature members of Frowning Clouds, The Living Eyes, School Damage, Wet Blankets, and pretty much any band that sounds like it was dragged from a murder scene, kicking and screaming with an insane look in their eye. Their first album was a gonad-punch of noise moulded into pop and splintered with all the fucked up shit that harps society.

Their second record built up those stages, but threw in a few more avant-garde pieces, like “I Pissed Myself Twice”. On “Order of Operation”, Ausmuteants finally sound like they’re a full band, not just a collection of screams and howls projecting the most disparagingly funny lyrics onto musical freakouts resembling Jack Nicholson’s eruptive fate in “The Shining”.

Furthermore, these songs are yelping animalistic eyeball poppers, more so than shoving a lawnmower, followed by a bottle of vinegar up your arsehole. A re-vamped version of “Felix Tried to Kill Himself” is so furious and deranged, you’d swear someone was trying to kill the band members in the middle of the recording, and the only way to defend themselves was to throw as much noisy guitar at this Jason Voorhees as possible. The same situation applies to the escaped mental-ward patients of “1982” and “Boiling Point”, songs which reach bleeding, scarred and fucked-up levels of success far too easily.

There isn’t really a moment on “Order of Operation” when Ausmuteants aren’t at their crude, twitching best. When not writing songs about porn (“Freedom of Information”), there’s stuff like the gutter revelation of “Depersonalisation”, which sounds like Ghandi reaching Nirvana whilst living in a compost heap in St Kilda. There’s a slight change of pace, within “Wrong”, about the plight of being a constant disappointment, but this seems less like a #stylisticdeparture rather than just fitting the pretty fucking depressing theme of the song. However, it does show that Ausmuteants hold onto that little bit of empathy, and they’re not too far gone to edge back into this boring realm of humanity.

Ausmuteants, I mean, these guys are fucking supernatural. They pound and thrash, and ruin any concept of cliche with their sheer ecstasy. Accompanied by a fucked up (read: refreshing) sense of humour, and enough schizophrenic bellowing to send the Primitive Calculators reeling, Ausmuteants align themselves with the too-oft ignored progressive punk of the 70’s, stuff like The Monks, The Residents and The Tubes. Maybe I’m dooming myself here by trying to compare Ausmuteants to something else, but it’s meant to be taken as a compliment, and in regard to their ability to be a crass, hyper-real thing of the lore that has somehow been brought to life before people are probably ready for it. It’s with a strong hope that people can recognise how fucking brilliant this band is, and ensure that they become cult idols before they’re using machines to breath.

New: Ausmuteants-Freedom of Information

Australia is becoming pretty well-known as the place to go for demented juvenile fuck-you’s that defy classification but need to be listened to nonetheless. Ausmuteants are in the thick of that description. Prolific bastards they are and their material always impresses. Not even a year on from their fan-fucking-tastic second record, they’ve already come back with a noisy track that features howls and guitar squalls that sound like an animal carcass caught between the gears of an important machine, and now the whole thing is fucked, and there’s smoke billowing, and now the thing is exploding.

Jesus Christ, the plugging riffs combined with the off-kilter yelps of “I only want to watch!” is why you gotta love Ausmuteants. Almost definitely about Internet porn, ‘Freedom of Information’ is a song that crawls with a carnivorous and inherent creepiness. This is the kind of that’ll have you blowing chunks out of sheer respect.

New: Ausmuteants-Hate This Town

Mad, rad and totally bad…ass, it’s the brand new track from Melbourne punks Ausmuteants. Fuck, their old album and EP’s have previously got my gonads so morbidly twisted, I’m pretty sure this new LP is going to castrate me. Oh well, there are worse ways to lose your dick than jamming to sexcellent avante-gardeness that sounds like the bastard child of Chrome. Anyway, the first portion of the Frankenstein monster that will inevitably be ‘Amusements’ is ‘Hate This Town’, a song that surprisingly hangs onto the minimalist, and shies away from being too in your face. Another surprise is the upbeat synth melody, however everything is in balance with the sullen-grey nihilist lyrics that Ausmuteants do best.

If you want more Ausmuteants, you can visit their Triple J Unearthed page, and grab a couple tracks for free, including the excellent ‘All Talk’.

Video: Austmuteants-Nothing Rhythmic

Fuck yeah, Ausmuteants released a clip for their amazeballs track ‘Nothing Rhythmic’. And thankfully, its just as creepy as you’d expect an Ausmuteants video to be. That badass horror riff creeping down your spine as a Larry David look-alike tries to catch a pancake in his mouth in a fucked colour scheme? Priceless.

Ausmuteants have just re-released this track on a 7″ for Anti-Fade Records, and I’m begging for a show north of the border!

New Songs: The Clits + Ausmuteants + Housewives

BAM! New Clits! Inappropriate name, appropriate music for anyone who likes good shit. Nice, strummy bass line, Aussie as fuuuuuck vocals, the kind of song that a stoned wombat would listen to whilst trying calm his high blood pressure after getting rejected by some sweet looking wombat-lady. ’22 Past 5′ is a really nice jammy song that spreads itself through your mind like jam on toast on a hungover Saturday.

Technically, ‘All Talk’ isn’t a new song, as it came out on Ausmuteants’ album ‘Split Personalities’. But this version, out on the new ‘100 Ausmuteants Fans Can’t Be Wrong, 1,000,000 Bon Jovi Fans Can’, is faster and more intense. Sung with bratty abandon and sporting a snotty who-gives-a-fuck organ, ‘All Talk’ is a big old middle finger to society, and even better, it sounds fucking great.

So, Sydney’s Housewives immediately gained a legion of punk fans just from the name of their new single ‘Fuck You or Fuck Yeah’. And it certainly lives up to it’s name. Deliriously  guitar with buzzsaw ferocity, that completes what every Bond villain failed to do: slice motherfuckers in half. It’s as sharp and brutal as The Bride’s samurai sword from Kill Bill. Fuck, it’s like old school Minor Threat all over again, minus the pretension and utmost dedication to just fucking shit up.

The Difference Between Indie & Interesting-An Essay

There is a facet of music that has annoyed me, and countless bands, for as long as popular music has existed: being pigeonholed. There is nothing worse than slaving over a piece of music, crafting a melody or a rhythm, re-imagining a sample, toiling on lyrics until you wake up in a pile of your own vomit from how amazing your poetry is (not speaking from personal experience), and proudly releasing your gift of musical beauty into the world…only to have it thrown back in your face as a categorised, labelled misconstruction, to be tossed up on a shelf with a bunch of bands that everyone will associate you with from now until when the Titans inevitably rule the Earth. Take the case of The Preset’s ‘My People’, a dance thumper about, I shit you not, boat people. However the political nature of the song was misinterpreted as a party anthem, and was shat out in all the clubs across the country. Or The Clash’s ‘Rock the Casbah’, a highly satirical song that viciously tore into the government, that has been reduced to being the song your parents awkwardly shuffle to in the living room. No, pigeonholing sucks balls. I’ll admit, that occasionally in reviews, I take a creative license and compare a band to something that might not spring to everyone’s mind when they here the song, such as when I recently compared X-Ray Charles to Beat Happening and The Modern Lovers. However, this is my website and my opinion….soooo, yeah fuck you  if you take personal offence to my comparisons between bands that I find have musical similarities for broader identification.

However, this is not simply about subtext or great bands past their heyday; this is about the highly negative effects of pigeonholing, namely throwing in bands of actual worth with the dreaded pseudonym of indie, or hipster depending on your cultural geography. It’s a brand that has a certain sting to it, one that recalls pasty kids in buttoned up floral shirts and way too tight pants, spouting how they ‘knew about this band before anyone else’, typing a post-romantic dramedy novella on a Macbook pro in a delicatessen on Broadway whilst sipping a flat-white cappuccino. Click here to visually comprehend if Lucifer was more of a douchebag. Although, for me personally, that doesn’t look like an astoundingly fun person, and they come off as rather cynical and two-dimensional, these indie scum do exist. They are the ones who scan Pitchfuck daily for bands they can worship before actually hearing anything, who single handedly keep Pabst Blue Ribbon in vogue, and made ridiculous clothing ‘cool’ (who the fuck likes fedoras?). But by far, their worst crime is the diluting of the indie genre.

Now before I continue, I would like to point out two things. Firstly, the inspiration for this essay was ‘How Did Indie Get So Safe’ on Fasterlouder by Edward Sharp-Paul; it’s a great, short essay (shorter than this one anyway) and it’s better than the majority of things you’ll read, besides Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Secondly, I’m about to insult a whole heap of indie bands that I find personally shitty. I understand that music is subjective, and this is not an argument about your personal music tastes. However, if you are one that enjoys the superfluously repulsive sounds of Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, Two Door Cinema Club, or Last Dinosaurs, I suggest you stop reading. Or not, you might find your new favourite band amongst those I find incestuous. Isn’t critiquing wonderful?

Anyway, there is a major problem with Indie music: it is too broad and too bland. When someone screams ‘OMG THIS BAND IS SAH INDIE’, it’s hard to know what they actually mean. Are they talking about Animal Collective, with their rich, multi-textured palettes of soundscapes, or the statistically terrible The Apples in Stereo? Did they mean Midnight Juggernauts’ pandering new album or Fugazi’s furious 1988 debut EP? It’s hard to know anymore. Then, there are so many sub-categories and niches, all with the title of indie slammed onto the front like an awkward boner sticking out of an 8th Grader’s pants: indie-rock, indie-pop, indie-electronica, indie-punk, indie-folk,indie-hip hop, indie-chill, indie-kill, indie-shank, indie-wank…the list goes on, and only about half of those are made up. Personally, you can chuck Phoenix, Passion Pit and Peter, Bjorn and John anywhere you want in there, it won’t change the fact that they’re shit. Most of these bands, despite declaring themselves indie, pander to a mainstream demographic. They play the dress up game and Domino Record Contract card, but the statistics speak for themselves. Vampire Weekend debuted their third album at no. 1 on the US Billboard Charts. Mumford and Sons won The Grammy for Album of the Year for ‘Babel’. Boy & Bear picked up 5 ARIA awards for their debut album, and will probably destroy the charts again this year, when they release their second album. Please, please do not misinterpret this as me saying that because these artists are ‘mainstream’ that they are shit. I’m merely pointing out that they have incredibly derivative music that in no way challenges the listener like independent music should. 

This brings me to my actual point, and I’m kind of sorry that it took so long to reach this statement. There are a fuckload of good bands out there that are getting thrown in with that indie tag. Just because a band is independent does not make them indie anymore. No, the cohesiveness of that identification got thrown out a long time ago, as soon as Interpol and The Strokes started getting popular. Both these bands are pretty good in their own way, however once they started and the indie ‘genre’ got picked up, about a million different bands started mimicking a sound and aesthetic similar to theirs that was in no way original, but was regardlessly hailed as being the next big thing. How many times can you open an NME or Rolling Stone and find them hailing ‘The Next Big Indie Thing’? Sure, it’s lovely for the band, but it has ruined all traction for the term indie. Initially, when the ‘indie scene’ popped up in America and Europe in the 1980’s, there was a certain amount of respect that came with the title. As Michael Azzerad’s biography of the 80’s indie scene, ‘Our Band Could Be Your Life’ describes, it was fucking hard to be indie. Bands like Black Flag and Dinosaur Jr. had to fight tooth and nail to get any exposure. Now, when the word indie pops up, all I can imagine is some Grizzly Bear sound-alike that will inspire absolutely no regard from anyone but the NME. Not that it matters too much to the band anyway, because they’re probably slathered in cocaine and bitches. Some bands, like San Cisco or Grouplove even come like pre-pacakged indie goods, ready made for the ‘indie addict’. However, it does matter to the independent bands that get slapped with the title of indie and hauled into a case of anonymity. There are now so many bands nowadays that consciously pander to the indie Triple J masses, that when a genuine band that comes around that happens to be independent and good, they are promptly blasted with ‘indie cred’, frothed over for approximately a week by hipsters, and then dropped by their ‘diehard new fans’ and left abandoned and disenchanted by their old ones.

There are a whole crop of new Australian acts that are legitimately interesting that I am fearful will get manhandled by indie-ness. Aussie Bands like Beaches, Dick Diver, Bleeding Knees Club, Royal Headache and Bored Nothing are all in close proximity to being swept in viva la indie, and promptly tossed into oblivion. Likewise, there’s international bands such as DIIV, Beach Fossils, King Tuff, and Savages who could suffer the same fate. For others, such as the cases of Flume, CHVRCHES, Tame Impala and Jagwar Ma, it’s probably too late, and it’ll only be a couple years before a ‘throwback’ reunion tour. This is fucked. Totally fucked. Firstly, because all of the bands mentioned above are bright young talents. It’s too early for them to go. It’s before their time. Secondly, these bands are not indie, and could be easily defined by other genres, if at all. Finally, it’s not fair to compare them to a band like Jinja Safari or Ball Park Music, each leaning strongly on obvious influences or mediocrity. The bands at the beginning of the paragraph are all highly interesting, highly capable acts worthy of a different attention that eschews Arcade Fire and Death Cab for Cutie Fans. Save your Augie March for when you’re bored on the bus. If you want something of captivating interest, check out Holy Balm, an electronica act that breaks all the rules of electronica. Or Ausmuteants, a band that could simply not give less of a shit. Or even Kirin J Callinan, the previous guitarist for Mercy Arms, Jack Ladder and Lost Animal, who recently tried to make a guy have a live seizure on stage at Sugar Mountain Festival earlier this year, all for the sake of art. These bands are all independent, Australian, and most importantly, interesting. They are not a bunch of acts to be randomly lumped in on an ‘indie playlist’ with the likes of Swim Deep or Father John Misty.

It’s 4 am on a Friday, and I don’t even really know what I’m saying anymore. Perhaps when I review and edit this tomorrow, it will make more sense. Perhaps it won’t. What I’m trying to say is this: I’m not going out of my way to insult the music taste of all the hipsters out there, I’m sure Snakadaktal’s debut album will be awesome. What I want to prove, like the Fasterlouder article, is that indie music has gotten quite safe and uninteresting, and I think that it has to do with the wide variety of ‘indie’ music, and the sea of music that most won’t bother to uncover. Indie isn’t indie anymore, that’s the problem. And if you try to make something not indie into indie, it will most probably get totally buried. Instead of hash tagging #indie to every band you hear on Triple J, perhaps take a listen first, and then figure out if they actually sound like The Postal Service and Modest Mouse, rather than just being new. And instead of buying the new Foster the People, spend your money on the new POND and King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard albums. It’ll pay off in the long run.