R.I.P The Lansdowne Hotel, and Why That Shithole Made Me A Better Person

“Oi, fuck mate, what’s happening tonight?”

“Nah man, I’m absolutely fucked, got no clue”


“Fuckin’ Lanny”

The amount of times this conversation has passed between mates and myself runs into the hundreds. We had just left high school, and were loaded with dumb, naive views of how the world and society operated. Getting drunk every night seemed like a feasible option. Punk bands who’s imaginations stretched to minute and a half diatribes felt like genius. Our jobs in retail left us with little to no option but to opt for the cheapest morsels of food. For us, The Lansdowne was able to deliver all of that, and so much more.

Located halfway between the boiling commercial cesspit of the city and faux hippie-laden, over-priced Newtown, The Lanny was a bastion of hope for a bunch of kids who wanted the simple things from life. I say was because, as of yesterday, the historic venue has been sold and will be replaced with a fucking performance arts school. The same place where I, and thousands of others, have stumbled out of after an incredible night of eardrum-excavating rock ‘n’ roll, is being replaced with some NIDA-lite shit.

Now, I’m not going to pretend that the Lansdowne’s history begins and ends with my experiences within it – it’s been one of the biggest champions of rock and roll music in Sydney for a looooong fucking time, and I’m simply one of the many teenagers who have happened through its doors, from its early days in the 1920’s, to the glory days in the 80’s and 90’s. But wasn’t there for that, and this article isn’t about how great the Lansdowne was back in the day when the The Hard-Ons played every second week. I wish I was there, but alas, I wasn’t, and therefore, it feels wrong to come at this obituary from a point of view that isn’t my own.

The first time I stepped inside the Lansdowne, sliding across piss-stained floors, eased past slouching couches, and sidling up to the protracted, splintered bar, it was approximately two weeks after my 18th Birthday. One of my favourite locals Step-Panther were playing a free show, to celebrate the re-opening of the venue after a 2013 fire severely damaged the hotel – I was absolutely fucking pumped. Step-Panther??? At the pub??? Free??? What does that even mean? What the fuck was I about to witness? SOMEONE GET ME A BUCKET, I’M GONNA SPEW!

Actually, the result, especially upon reflection, was pretty void. Step-Panther played well, but there was almost no-one at this show. The Lansdowne cavern remained black and hollow – my best mate and I drank heartily with the band, and it was an exciting time, one of many opportunities I’ve had to split a drink and share my appreciation for my favourite bands after a show. But when the hangover subsided, there didn’t feel like there was any real reason to head back to the corner of George St and City Rd. I returned to more traditional 18 year old activities – Goon of Fortune and unsuccessfully hitting on girls.

About four months later, a guy called Simon Parsons e-mailed me asking if I’d like to DJ at the Lansdowne. He was starting a brand new Thursday night called The Mess Up, and Yes, I’m Leaving and HANNAHBAND were playing. Fuck, of course I was gonna DJ! I rocked up, but the place had completely changed from the abandoned crypt it was before. There were more people there, there was a sense of community, and the whole room felt charged. Maybe it’s looking back through a mirror of nostalgia, but there was definitely a sense of rejuvenation in the saggy bricks that night.

The year that followed from there was the best year of my life, only rivalled by my first year of existence during which people loved me simply because I was a cute-as-fuck baby and I could shit myself at any point without fear of repercussion. Every week, without fail, I was at the Lansdowne. By myself, with mates, it didn’t matter – I was fucking there. There was always a show on, and it was almost always good. From the splashy slackjaw of Unity Floors, to the paranoid vitriol of Constant Mongrel, to the down and out gruel pop of Mope City, there was always something interesting gracing the stages of The Lansdowne that was ripe for discovery. If any band, either local or interstate, asked advice on somewhere to play, the Lanny was the first venue to escape my lips. I was addicted to this shithole.

Soon enough, major draw cards began to befall the crumbling venue – Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys, Straight Arrows, Palms, TV Colours and The Ocean Party all played incredible sets there. SPOD and Richard in Your Mind played an insane double bill. A bleeding foot stopped a Peep Tempel show, whilst nudity spurred on a Gooch Palms one. Vibrancy, diversity and discovery soon became standard practice at Sydney’s favourite pub. It was an incredible few months that culminated in the MATES Festival in late January 2015. Every single one of my favourite bands in Australia played a series of blistering shows that showered The Lansdowne in sweat and beer. That day still sticks in my head as one of the most brilliant things that has happened to me – an absolute treat!

Then, The Lansdowne bit the hand that was shovelling delicious canapes down its throat with fervour. They let go of their booker Jo, essentially believing that, well, now the people are here, they’ll just keep coming. The gravy train won’t ever stop! Fuck, these kids, they love it here at the Lansdowne! We can hike up the prices a few cents here and there, and no one will notice (believe me, there was outcry when the jugs went from $10 to $10.50). As for booking a pub, how hard can it be? The day they got rid of their booking team was the last day I went to the Lansdowne.

Actually, that’s not entirely true – I went there one more time. The band that the owners had picked for the night was absolutely fucking atrocious. Whereas a Friday night at the Lansdowne usually provided a band like Day Ravies, Alex Cameron or Donny Benet, this headline band was stirring up some absolutely abominable tropical pop shit. I learnt two things that night – that I hate tropical pop music, and that booking venues is incredibly hard. But Jo, Simon, and the rest of the crew behind the Lansdowne bookings did their jobs with jaw-dropping gusto, enthusiasm and knowledge. They knew the ins and outs of Australian music, who played a good show and who played terribly. They knew that to keep a band happy, you actually needed to pay them, which they did gratuitously. They knew that free entry only brings in so much – that maintaining high quality lineups was what brought the savages, not the door charge. And most of all, they knew their audience, and their venue: the average punter who wanted to go to the pub and see some great fucking music. The extent to which they provided all of this is disembowelling.

People don’t seem to appreciate how great pub venues are – they allow bands to play without pretension. The worst show can be a learning curve, whilst the best show can cover the walls and floor with a thick layer of sweat and grime. A casual night can turn into the inspiration for someone in the audience starting a band, who in turn get their first show playing a support slot on the same stage that sparked the discussion in the first place. It’s this aspect that venues like The John Curtin and The Tote achieve so well in Melbourne, and probably explain why there’s such a healthy band scene down there. The bookers actually interact with the local rock groups, and reflect that in the awesome bookings that go on there. Who knew that booking a pub with rock bands requires a knowledge of rock music? It’s a self-fucking-perpetuating force!

Don’t get me wrong, Sydney still has plenty of great venues: Blackwire Records is Ground Zero for punk, experimental and amateur music, and I urge anyone who hasn’t been there to attend immediately. The Vic, The Marly Bar and Waywards are also great venues in Newtown, and GoodGod and Brighton still provide some fairly decent rock shows every now and then.

But in terms of a central pub that wore disgusting on its sleeve, The Lansdowne was unrivalled; a mess of putrid, shit covered bathrooms, smoke-choked beer gardens and chicken-schnitzel that was suspiciously cheap and delicious, this place had it all. From the gorgeous, burned out aesthetic, to the pungent aromas that coated each room, to the sprawl who littered the pavement for lung cancer injections, it was the final bastion of pub rock in central Sydney, and now, it’s gone. It sucks, it really fucking does, but I’m glad that it burned bright for the time it did, and that I was able to slot into the rite of passage that so many teenagers before me have. Even when those welcoming doors have shut, it’ll be nice to remember the constant year of fantastic shows that accompanied me growing up a bit, and realising I wasn’t the hot piece of shit that I thought I was. The Lansdowne is pretty much solely responsible for easing my transition from know-it-all, acne-splashed wanker fresh from high school, to the wide-eyed dipshit who’s finally learnt to shut up and enjoy the good music and people that Sydney has to offer.

Now grab ya 40, and tip one out for the best pub that was.


Gig Review: The Stevens w/ Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys + Day Ravies + Nathan Roche Band

Friday, 17th of January @ The Red Rattler Theatre

Not even 24 hours after arriving back in Sydney after admiring the wonders and delights of Sri Lanka, I was re-admiring the wonders and delights of the best venue in Sydney. The motherfudgin’ Stevens were finally getting around to launching their debut LP in Sydney, and since I missed them at Sound Summit, there was no way that Heaven, Hell or dysentery was going to stop me from getting to this gig.

Arrival + 5 minutes later, and Nathan Roche, one of the best blokes this city has to offer is up on the six inch-high stage, selling his wares, this time with a full band in tow (including Greg from Adults!). Watching a Nathan Roche show always comes with the feeling of being cocooned by a comforting normalcy, but this time there was something more. With the full band, Roche no longer had to hold down the show completely on his own. Similar to fellow solo-artist mindblower Angie, when Roche has his band there to back him up, he can move more freely around stage, and it feels as though the spotlight is less on him. Therefore, those fucking brilliant tracks like ‘Serafina’ and ‘You Are What You Are’ seem to carry that much more oomph. Instead of the shaky everyman, Roche’s band becomes a swaggering train of good vibes and balls-out slacker pop.

After Nathan Roche’s conquering set, Day Ravies hit the stage to impress all in attendance one more time. And look, I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a billion fucking times: Day Ravies rule. On record, they’ve got a whimsical, wistful flair that is rarely executed with such charm. And in the live setting, that charisma gets played out in the form of darling pixie dreaminess.

Every time I watch Day Ravies, one specific member always catches my eye, and in this case it was Lani Crooks, the band’s keys player. She fucking exudes genuine-ness like the reincarnation of Martin Luther King Jr. or Patti Smith. Up on stage, playing her keys and singing, she really embodies the vibe of Day Ravies, the spirit of quiet achievement, of being super humble about songs that frankly are not getting the recognition they deserve (case in point: ‘I Don’t Mind’)

After being whisked away by Day Ravies’ performance, it was time to get bolted to reality with the start of Sydney royalty The Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys. A band as indebted to The Replacements as every shitty pop-punk band is to Blink-182, the Bad Boys completely rocked the stage of The Rattler, in a way that I feel embarrassed to use such a cliche. They four-piece stood there, stoic and brave like the original Tonto, and played their fucking hearts out. Although to be fair, anyone who’s seen the Bed Wetters before knows that these guys don’t fuck around.

photo 1

Actually, that last bit’s a lie. There was probably the most audience participatory small talk, courtesy of frontman/RIP Society label owner Nick Warnock. A fucking legend, the guy managed to belt out a slurry of bed-wettin’-worthy hits like ‘Devotion’, ‘Bite My Tongue’ and ‘Any Day Now’. It was all I could do to keep my jaw from completely unhinging itself in the presence of such a great rock band.

After re-attaching my eyes to normalcy, I promptly lost them to the amazeballs of The Stevens performance. The Melbournites may only have songs with an average of two minutes, but fuck do they make every second count. They’re songs are like Twerps tracks filled with a youthful desire to be the biggest smartass possible. And best of all, the tunes cover a wide variety of topics, emotions and styles, never staying in the relatively neutral territory of slacker-pop.

photo 2

Oh yeah, and these guys give out charm like they’re the Lucky Charm’s mascot. However, its a very different kind of charming than Day Ravies. Instead, its the kind of charm that you pick up from your mate that’s never been rejected by a girl in his life, and he manages to be incredibly cool without trying. What I’m trying to say is, The Stevens are like the early Fonzi’s of the Melbourne scene. Which makes sense considering how fucking great their songs are. Have you checked out ‘From ‘Puberty to Success’? Or ‘Teenage Satellites’? Or debut album genital-tearing tear jerker ‘Hindsight’? Did you listen to those fucking crazy ass tracks? And did your mind shatter into a thousand pieces of orgasm? And can you imagine how fucking great that shit was live? The reason I’m speaking in rhetorical questions is because its actually impossible to relay how great The Stevens played that night, and if you weren’t there, then it sucks to be you.

This gig was fucking awesome *drops mic, walks off stage, Eminem song begins to fade in*

Top 10 Australian Albums of 2013

Whoomp, there it is! Or, to be more grammatically correct, here it is. Because, y’know, you’re reading this off some sort of screen, which is on front of you, and not somewhere else, which is what the preposition of there implies.

Look, I was trying to make a reference to Tag Team’s 1993 smash hit, and smoothly initiate an article about the best Australian albums of 2013, but it failed in a brutal showing of grammatical error. Anyway, as I clumsily try to regain my poise, let me say that 2013 has been a killer year for Australian records. On the International scene, there haven’t been absolutely tonnes of records that have held people’s gaze for the full year, but in Aussie-land, home of snuggies and the ‘ocker’ stereotype, there have been leaps and bounds in every genre available. Its cruel to pick just ten, but here we are, in a state of despair. Woe is I, for we art doomed to live in a state of existential pit of despair wrought by picking just ten albums for lists. Please….empathise.

Super Dooper Special (as in all tied Equal 11th) mentions go to Scott & Charlene’s Wedding, The Ocean Party, Day Ravies, Unity Floors, and Ooga Boogas.

Special Mentions go to Clowns, Amateur Drunks, Standish/Carlyon, Pikelet, The Living Eyes, Golden Blonde, Ausmuteants, The Drones and The Native Cats.

Super Duper Ultra Special Metal Album: Zeahorse-Pools

The sludge! The intensity! The gruel! Its like Jack Black once said in Tenacious D’s ‘The Metal’, ‘…you can’t kill the metal, the metal will live on’. As it does on Zeahorse’s debut record ‘Pools’. Stagnant marshes of filthy reverb and disgusting bass-lines make this a riveting listen, plunging you head first into a swirling world full of blackness and awesome sludgery.

10. Yes, I’m Leaving-Mission Bulb

Not since Fugazi has a punk band come so blindingly close to marrying the intense anti-establishment message of punk with blindingly good melodies. For Yes, I’m Leaving, a band with both an excellent name, a fantastic live show and even greater songs, its just another day making great fucking songs. Yes, I’m Leaving don’t really make a misstep on ‘Mission Bulb’, just chugging out those razor sharp punk songs like they’re a supergroup made from Patti Smith, Ian McKaye, Keith Morris, and Jello Biafra, and the old guy with a sledge hammer on the cover is replaced by Henry Rollins. Perfection!

9. Primitive Calculators-The World Is Fucked

Never have you heard something as vicious and in-your-face until you’ve witnessed the sheer terror of a Prim Calcs track. Finally, after all this time…the band have gotten around to releasing a debut studio album. Its not like Australia’s been waiting over thirty years for this thing! Thankfully, the album paid off like robbing a bank vault Die Hard 3 style, both a physical and emotional pay-off. Not for a moment do the band let up, blasting our brain cells one super charged synth-punk anthem after another.

8. Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys-Ready For Boredom

Another debut record, another awesome band name. You could say its a combination of the previous two entries, but you’d be wrong because the Bad Boys sound fuck all like the other two bands. Instead, they pick up where The Replacements left off on ‘Pleased to Meet Me’-emotionally charged everyman’s rock n roll. It belongs in a pub, three-schooners-down, with one eye on the rugby game in the corner and one eye on its uncertain future. However, if the band can keep churning out the hit factory and overall nice package that is ‘Ready For Boredom’, they should be sorted for a very long time.

7. King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard-Float Along-Fill Your Lungs

I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times-King Jizz are the Darwin Evolution theory in practice. Starting out with bare-bones ramshackle rock n roll and slowly developing into the psych rock band we now see a year and a half later. However, they never lost any of the zeal and flavour they had on the ‘Willoughby’s Beach EP’ way back when, and can still manage to excite and boner-ise with their longer stuff as they can with any two minute electric shock.

6. POND-Hobo Rocket

Its a mini-album, deal with it. It was still too awesome to leave off the list. Its over-the-top glam rock, but not as you know it. If David Bowie was gobbled by some sort of psychedelic monster, and laid to waste by a plethora of Wayne Coyne clones, then you might get something as fun, frantic and off the fucking hook as ‘Hobo Rocket’. It dodges, dips, dives, ducks and dodges between all different sorts of vibes and frequencies, a restless creature if you’ve ever heard one. And boy, does it fucking sound amazing.

5. Cut Copy-Free Your Mind

‘Free Your Mind’ can’t really be defined as a return to form because Cut Copy never lost their form (go listen to ‘Zonoscope’ again, and try to feel any inkling of disappointment). Instead, ‘Free Your Mind’ continues the Cut Copy legacy, leaping and bounding into acid-house territory. The Madchester warehouse vibes are certainly there, mingling with the indie pop sensibility that Cut Copy own so hard like I own a massive Sonic Youth poster so hard. You’ll dance, you’ll think, you’ll cry and you’ll dance again, all within the confines of ‘Meet Me in a House of Love’. Isn’t Cut Copy just the greatest invention?

4. Violent Soho-Hungry Ghost

The cover-a skeleton engulfed in flames. Now that’s how you garner some fucking attention. Or, you could just stir up some of the most heart-pounding, adrenaline-inducing, mouth-watering rock songs this side of ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’. Most of the songs on ‘Hungry Ghost’ are anthems, no doubt about it. Try to listen to a chorus of ‘Hell FUCK YEAH!’ without forming some sort of death circle in whatever location you happen to be in. In completely unrelated news, death by moshpits have gone up 215% in nursing homes that play Triple J. But that’s not all there is to ‘Hungry Ghost’, as the team manage to cook up a couple of heart-warming surprises throughout. More delicious than an angel made of bacon.

3. Palms-Step-Brothers

I guess the reason why Palms are such a great band is because they’re doing something that’s been done so many times before, but putting such an original stamp on it, that you can’t help but do a quintuple take. That’s right, your head will spin a minimum of five times as you try to reconsider your life without Palms in it. There’s so much to swallow when listening to ‘Step Brothers’, but not in a bad way. No, going through this, you’ll be gulping through as much musical content as possible to get all that Palm-y goodness in your spirit ASAP.

2. The Gooch Palms-Novo’s

Speaking of Palms, The Gooch Palms came in with one of the strongest musical entities of the year. However, whilst Palms channel Springsteen, Goochies are all about The Ramones. Bratty, snotty punk, farted out into the willing ears of all lucky enough to listen. However, The Gooch Palms show a surprising diversity, and with the mixture of shameless pop ballads, rain-soaked bummer ear-catchers and leather-jacket FUCK YEWWW’s, you can’t feel bored, even for a second. Rock n Roll runs in the veins of Kat and Leroy and to deny them of that would mean to say that this album doesn’t make you immediately want to strip off all your clothes, run down a highway and spread the word of the Almighty Gooch.

P.S The Gooch Palms and Palms are teaming up for a tour called Palmarama, and they’re playing Oxford Arts Factory on Friday, 28th February. Miss this and perish in a pit of regret.

1. TV Colours-Purple Skies, Toxic River

Surprise, fucking surprise. The album that I can never stop blabbering about comes in at No. 1 on my list of the top Australian records of 2013. Bias aside, if you don’t like this album, then seriously, nothing can be done for you. You are a lost cause. A total travesty of a human being. This album is perfection, a lulling, mesmerising concoction of deadly riffs, lo-fi production, cheesy synths and samples, rolled into a bundle of delights that the world has never seen before. Even though Bobby Kill took two years to make this record, it was worth every minute of waiting for this fucking masterpiece. God Bless TV Colours!

Top 10 Band Names of 2013

ImageWarning: If you’re over 30 you might not want to read this list. Unless, you’re Bill Murray.

It’s a well known fact that if you have a great name as a band, you will garner some attention. Sure, that attention will last approximately 2 weeks, and be compromised of shocked, right-wing mothers and punk kids trying way too hard to piss of their parents, like myself. However, if you can back that up with some great music, then what’s the worry?

Here are the Top 10 band names that stick out in my mind. Most of them have really good music, and you should definitely check them out. Some of them suck. Make up your own mind. Here they are, the bands with the most unique names of 2013:

10. Fuck Buttons-I talk about Fuck Buttons pretty much non-stop. In the lead up to their gig on Thursday, I must have said their name a minimum of 4000 times, and shocked quite a few bystanders in the process. However, besides havin a cuss word in their name, Fuck Buttons prove they can back their ‘controversial’ name with some killer tunes, like ‘The Red Wing’.

9. Pissed Jeans-Another great fringe band with a great name and better music. Pissed Jeans blend hardcore with gargled regurgitation, coming out like a Elmo in a blender with gnarled guitars and a bloodthirsty bassline. Listening to Pissed Jeans is like having Genghis Khan shoot the shit with you whilst he’s in the middle of drug rehabilitation, and is fiendin’ for some meth. If listening to ‘Bathroom Laughter’ doesn’t either make you shit yourself in fear, or get excited to dangerous levels, then you’re deaf.

8. Lightning Swords of Death- Lightning Swords of Death are a black metal band. and because my knowledge of black metal extends as far as ‘that’s the church-burning stuff from Norway right?’, I was kind of surprised when I downloaded ‘Vorticating Into Scars’ on the basis of the band’s awesome name, and was instantly flooded by a sound not dissimilar to Satan shitting blood on your face. Each to their own, but it must be said these guys have a great band name.

7. Yes, I’m Leaving-Yes, I’m Leaving have been around for a very long time, but their name is fucking fantastic (as does their 2013 album ‘Mission Bulb’, you’d be hard pressed to find a better Aussie punk album this year). The simple message of those three words is damn powerful, surmising that yes, its time to fuck off, and no, you can’t stop us.

6. Vulture Shit-Vulture Shit have the whole imagery thing down pat. When listening to ‘I Love The Way He Touches His Computer’, and silently contemplating destroying a hotel room, you can almost see a sinister vulture blatantly shitting all over  your previous conceptions that punk was dead.

5. Scott & Charlene’s Wedding-The project of Craig Dermody, slacker superstar, Scott & Charlene’s Wedding has tad more romantic connotations than, say, The Clits. Its a reference to that massive episode of Neighbours, when our titular characters got hitched. It was a pretty monumental moment in Australian television history, along with Cathy Freeman winning a running race and the first time How I Met Your Mother was aired on Channel 7. Anyway, Scott and Charlene’s Wedding (the band) make some fucking great jangle tracks, such as ‘Lesbian Wife’. However, you have been warned, once you listen to that song, good fucking luck trying to get it out of your head. Its the ‘Call Me Maybe’ for people with taste.

4. Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys-One of Sydney’s greatest bands, possibly one of the greatest in Australia. From love-torn ballads, to down-n-out slacker anthems, the Bad Boys make just plain great music for the average guy. Its like the love child between Alex Chilton and Paul Westerberg, only with a way cooler band name.

3. The Gooch Palms- Ahhh, The Goochies. What’s not to love about them? From regular onstage nudity, to raw garage punk infused with pop sensibility, to their no-bullshit attitude in live performance and music. However, for most, their name will be the thing to strike an unassuming radio listener. Gooch? As in, that hairy thing between your legs? Ewwwwww. Then ‘We Get By’ comes on, and all you’ll be able to think about from that point on is how fucking great a band The Gooch Palms are.

2. Diarrhea Planet- There was a story earlier this year about a grandma who got royally pissed off because her grandson wanted to buy the new Diarrhea Planet record. I think the thing we can garner from this is that her grandson has excellent taste in music. ‘Seperations’ is one of the better tracks of this year, and I doubt many people would have heard it if that name didn’t make you turn your head like witnessing Roadrunner getting his neck snapped by Wil E. Coyote.

1. Girls Pissing on Girls Pissing- Ah, finally, the crux of the article amirite? Actually, the whole point of this story was kind of just to show off the brand new song, ‘A Fraud Abroad’, by Girls Pissing On Girls. Its an absolute stunner of a track from the Kiwi group, and one that really shouldn’t go unrecognised. But don’t take that to mean these guys don’t have one of the best names in the world. Next time you want to be all mad-rebel-ish, just tell your Mum that your new favourite band is Girls Pissing on Girls Pissing, and see where that gets you. Actually, once you have a listen, they probably will be your new favourite band, so you won’t even have to lie. It’s a win-win!

Best Songs of 2013 So Far

It’s exactly halfway through the year, and within it, we’ve seen some shockingly awesome releases being thrust into our ears like dirty patricians of sound. These molestular devices have slobbered their way onto us in the form of new music from The Strokes, Bad Religion, The xx, Foals, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Bowie, Wire, The Flaming Lips, The Black Angels….the list goes on. We’ve also had a fuckload of local releases from Dune Rats to Yes, I’m Leaving and Willow Beats all holding a torch with awesome new albums and EP’s grating our ears to tinnitus accepters. So, since I can’t be fucked to do albums, these are the best songs from the albums. These are the best songs, in my opinion, of 2013, so far. No surprises, it’s mostly garage-centric.

1. Parquet Courts- Stoned and Starving

2. Grave Babies-Over and Underground

3. Thee Oh Sees-Toe Cutter-Thumb Buster

4. Majical Cloudz-Bugs Don’t Buzz

5. My Bloody Valentine-She Found Now

6. Kurt Vile-Never Run Away

7. Radical Dads-Rapid Reality

8. The Bronx-Ribcage

9. The Men-I Saw Her Face

10. Unknown Mortal Orchestra-So Good At Being In Trouble

11. Atoms for Peace- Before Your Very Eyes…

12. The Drones-How to See Through Fog

13. Palma Violets-Best of Friends

14. Wavves-Afraid of Heights

15. POND-Giant Tortoise

16. Dune Rats-Red Light Green Light

17. Step-Panther-Maybe Later

18. FIDLAR-Cheap Beer

19. Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys-Bite My Tongue

20. Flume-Sleepless 

Video: Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys-Any Day Now

Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys own the title of Sydney’s best band name, and also have one of the best garage sounds this city has to offer. Taking their queues from The Replacements, these guys scream punk, then take a garage rock shit all over it while punk is trying to catch some z’s in the van between shows. This is their first clip showcasing their debut album ‘Ready for Boredom’, and by fuck do they look fucking bored. It’s like, woah man, woah, back off, we just wanted to play music, not tap into your bullshit, commercialist ya-ya-ya. Despite putting in minimal effort, I can’t help but watch the whole clip, partly to see if there’s an explosion or nudity at the end, or if they all start a massacre or something. Fucking whatever, it’s a great song off an even greater album. There’s been a re-pressing of it, that’s how great it is. A fucking re-pressing, that, like, totally falls into a capitalist agenda! You can start calling Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys sellouts….now. Do a butter commercial why don’t you!