Top 5 Records w/ Unity Floors

Old mates Unity Floors are one of the best things that Sydney town has. They’ve got these awesome tunes that are like junkyard pop, weird pop songs constructed from rusted guitars and tin can drums. They’re a ramshackle band that write some of the best tunes to listen and dance to, like if Paul Westerberg if he’d grown up in the suburbs of Sydney, and listened to Pavement.

Now, although Gus and Henry are pretty similar in that they’re friendly guys with steady knowledge on how to write a good song, their musical tastes are wildly different, apparently. So, I asked them to show me the Top5 Records that they could agree upon.

Also, these bloody legends are playing The Standard Bowl on September 12th, with other bloody legends Chook Race and Community Radio.

 

Top 5 Records That Gus and Henry Both Like:

1. CAN – Delay 1968

 

2. Grauzone – Welt Rekord 7″

 

3. The Jesus & Mary Chain – Hate Rock N Roll

 

4. Captain Beefheart – Safe As Milk

 

5. The Cramps – Bad Music For Bad People

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Album Review: Rayon Moon-Resurrection EP

Resurrection cover art

Hahahahahah!!!! If you add an extra ‘e’ to the resurrection, you get ‘ressrerection’! It’s like a revived erection! Mwaahahahah, I’m the next Richard Pryor!

Immature gloating aside, Rayon Moon are an awesome rock n roll garage band that are filthier than the ashtray of the afterparty of a Dune Rats gig. One one side, Rayon Moon are the perfect caricatures of a garage rock band. Weird lyrics, surf-y guitars and the word ‘amateur’ smudged all over their carcass. On the other hand, this band is the perfect garage rock iconoclast. Rayon Moon’s music epitomises everything there is to love about garage music, and if you can’t se that, well, then you’re blinder than Stevie Wonder.

The opening track on their ‘Resurrection’ EP is called ‘The Phil Spector Wig Appreciation Society’, and it comes with as much slacker, smartass debauchery as one would expect with a name like that. This is the track that will get everyone boogying down on the ground like its the Apocalypse. The song is a perfect marriage of Quentin Tarantino-esque guitar and memorable chorus. If you can’t see this song being shouted back at the band by a bunch of barely legal garage rock groupies at some shithole house party, then you’re not using your imagination correctly.

Next, its ‘Count Me Out’, a dastardly daredevil exploit that could soundtrack an Evil Knievel jump across 5 million buses. Its got a swashbuckling, swaggering nature to it, warbling Cold Chisel vocals slashed into a hollow barrel of zany surf rock guitar and tribal bongos. That’s right, bongos. There’s motherfucking bongos in this track. Why aren’t you listening to it right now?

After that, we follow into some darker, seduction territory with ‘AA’. A deep, groovy bass line sprawls itself over the leopard skin rug of a track, Aviator-rocking, crucifix-earinged guitar splashes appearing more rapidly throughout, and a damn fine riff if you’ve ever heard one pouting its way into the inner conscious.

And finally, although we want to hear oh-so-much-more, ‘Kick A Fire’ ends out the ‘Resurrection’ EP. But it does leave the listener very much satisfied, with a cigarette in hand, a sweaty bosom and a pounding heart. I’m making an allusion to sexual intercourse in case you didn’t pick that up. ‘Kick A Fire’ is going to have sex with your brain. Starting out very Cramps-like, haunched bass line, the track then devolves into a demented Grinderman sort of thing, bashing itself in the head until its bleeding profusely and entertaining all within spurting distance.

Overall, Rayon Moon have proved that they’re one hell of a band to listen to, regardless of context. Whether you’re at a nice family dinner or a crack den, or even mid-coitus, with Denzel Washington, there’s always going to be some room for the ‘Resurrection’ EP. And luckily for you, the whole thing is available on Rayon Moon’s Bandcamp, along with their other EP’s. Now, altogether, lets form a circle and pray to the Tiki Gods for these bad boys to come to Sydney for a night of sin.

Album Reviews: Elvis Christ + the Wrong Man + Cobwebbs

So, Long Gone Records just sent me their trifecta of new albums. That’s fucking awesome. All the albums are better than peanut butter brittle slathered in cocaine. That’s fucking awesome. And all the albums came out on cassette. That’s fucking awesome. However, I am pressed for motherfucking thyme! I got exams and study to do, and very limited amount of time to review! I feel like the whitest poet, probably because I am, I just didn’t know it! However, quick change of format: I’m going to do all three albums on one post, instead of a post each. So, instead of 500 words, it’ll be 200 for each, or something. Is that ok for you? Is that cool? Do you mind? Get fucked, I’ll do what I mow-forkin’ please.

ImageElvis Christ’s ‘And So It Shall Be’ is what I imagine Brad Pitt’s premature ejaculation is like: its heavenly while it lasts, but its still too short, and leaves you wanting way more. Then again, bragging rights. Lustful Pittian dreams aside, its unruly, tongue wagging garage rock n roll. It spits in your face, cleans it with a dick rag, and then laughs because now you have spit and jizz on your dome. Sucks to be you, doesn’t it? Nah, because you just got to listen to the rip-roaring ‘And So It Shall Be’. ‘You Want It All’ features one hell of a fucking guitar solo (think Dave Grohl being fucked by Satan), and ‘I Just Wanna Go For A Ride’ recalls Thee Headcoats and similar hellfire meth bands, which is a really good thing. Like, really good. Super good. Fuck it, that song makes me want to dance. Elvis Christ truly deserves to retain his moniker, and he does the other two guys called Elvis proud. Smiley face!

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There’s a lot of manly stuff out there. I mean, you’ve got Metallica, Anthrax, Megadeth, Slayer, Joe’s Bag of Buttpluggs (please let that be a real band). But what happens when you get the Wrong Man? Alfred Hitchcock’s 1956 classic tried to answer that question, but instead of wasting a couple hours of your life, just listened to this self-titled record from Brisbane. This shit is German porn levels of filthy, drenched in layers of bedroom fuzz, and caked in grimy Lux Interior vocals and swagger. Serious props on the opener ‘Virgin on the Hill’ which manages to be both cacaphonic and lustful at the same time. The Wrong Man make music that will make your mother weep and Danzig jack off. Isn’t that a deliriously beautiful image?

ImageI actually knew about Cobwebbs before I was given this album. I had frothed over their previous shit, which I’ll aptly describe as noise rock thrown in a blender. So, imagine my surprise when I find that the band have traded in their awesome brand of shitty death guitar for synths and darkwave. However, I’ll have you fucking know, this isn’t some pissweak New Order imitation. Do you like Buzz Kull, HTRK, Nite Fields, or like minded Australian dark electro bands that drill into your skull? You’ll definitely dig this shit. Cobwebbs have got atmosphere down pat to a creepy Cheshire Cat smile, all knives and no stabbing. It’s like an hour long horror movie buildup that leads to a transvestite vampire party. I especially dig on ‘Elevator’ and ‘Slow It Down’, which are tracks that show an alternate Scooby Doo future in which the whole gang gets slaughtered by a swamp monster. Pretty fucked up, right? You should definitely check out this album.

So, that’s my quick summary of some really, really great shit. I hope you enjoyed it, and want to go buy those records. If you’re the kind of Average Joe who enjoys your Britney Spears with a side of shit, then it’s probably not for you. The rabid Glee fans, top-button wearing faux hipster scum and pinger munching fake-tanned hunks of muscle probably aren’t going to be lining up either. For the rest of you, go shell out three bucks each for these awesome records. I think you can do without your McDonald’s Breakfast Taco for a day. Go here for Elvis Christ. Go here for the Wrong Man. Go here for Cobwebbs. Long Live Long Gone!

Album Review: Thee Hugs-Drug Use and Alcohol Abuse

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Ladies and gentlemen, to start the review, I offer a metaphor. The Hulk has just gone to Taco Bell. Uh-oh, bad move Hulk. After approximately 20 minutes, The Hulk eschews a wild hurricane of Hulk excrement. That, my esteemed reader, is my representation of the debut Thee Hugs record. Mean, green and dirty. Also, unique, slightly disgusting and revelling in the abysmal depths of a public toilet in a shitty chain restaurant. Goddamn it’s a beautiful thing.

There are four major hints before even listening to a single song on the album that it’s going to be a fantastic thing. Firstly, the band’s name: Thee Hugs. Every band with Thee tacked onto the beginning has a legendary status. Thee Oh Sees, Thee Headcoats, Thee Hugs. It’s a thing, trust me. Secondly, the album name: Drug Use and Alcohol Abuse. With a name like that, it’s not like your going into the album blind; you know that there’s going to be drug references abound, like a 2013 Fear and Loathing. Awesome sauce. Thirdly, the band members that form Thee Hugs are from the other juggernaut Brissy garage sphincters Tiny Migrants and Sulphur Lights. Highly recommend checking these acts out, if you have a soul. I mean, I don’t have a soul, and I fucking love them, so imagine how you’re going to react. Finally, the artwork for the album is done by Sam McKenzie, who also did cover art for the infamous Velociraptor and everyone’s favourite rabbit-masked maniac Nobunny, amongst others. So yes, before even listening to a track, I’m confident that I’m in very good hands.

And….I’m correct. Holy Fuck, am I correct. ‘Drug Use and Alcohol Abuse’ is a monstrous blistering ride through insanity. It cruises through the seedy streets of Brisbane in it’s shitty Toyota, picking up mates like The Wipers and White Lung, trying and failing to score with hotties like Tyvek and The Reatards, and finally ending the night by scoring some smack of this dodgy dealer called King Gizzard and The Lizard Wizard. That dude was fucking crazy. 

Anyway, the LP is a spaced out, sped up affair that throws its weight around in sub-zero gravity, just because it can. Tracks like ‘She’s My Girl’ and ‘You Can Run But You Can’t Hide’ showcase a Cramps horror-punk style, enlisting reckless abandon and shoving it up every orifice of insane until spew erupts from the concept’s nostrils. Then there’s stuff like ‘Somebody Pooed in the Pool’ and ‘Nazi Shooter’ that are just plain fucking weird for the sake of it. Did I mention I love it? Because I do, I really fucking do.

Thee Hugs are unruly and unrestricted in the best sense of the word. For a debut album, this breaks all the boundaries of what is considered normal, and that is a fan-fuckin-tastic thing. It’s beautiful in it’s ugliness, shining a light into the murky water just to see how big of a shit is down there. Hint: it’s gargantuan, and you gotta be at least a little bit impressed. Very good stuff. Very, very, very good stuff. Lux Interior would be so proud. 

You can buy (or stream, in case this review hasn’t convinced you of the retarded genius of Thee Hugs) on the band’s Bandcamp right here. There’s also a single ‘She’s My Girl’ on there for free. Get it….or a swarm of swamp monsters will bite off your genitals. Consider the circumstances and make the right choice. 

Top 10 Artists of All Time-1 Year Celebration Fuck Yeah

I am finally getting around to finishing off this final mammoth of an article in celebration of my 1 year Anniversary with Soundly Sounds. Although it started off in my mind as a good idea to do 3 articles about my favourite albums, songs and artists, it has risen to a point in which I would rather let a scorpion pillage me for sexual pleasure than write another behemoth of these. But regardless, I’m fucking doing this shit anyway. Because otherwise Clancy ‘I-thought-you-were-a-journalist’ McDouchebag would rear his ugly head from the proverbial woodwork, like that alien that tries to eat the Millennium Falcon on that crater, in Star Wars Episode IV: Revenge of the Sith. Fuck that’s such a great movie. You know what else is great? All these bands. Fuckin all these bands are worthy of the highest acclaim acknowledgeable from myself. I have selected these particular artists very carefully, not just because they’re amazing, or had a particularly excellent album. No, these artists have consistently pumped out tunes for your earholes that you can molest at your won pleasure. These are bands that give you a boner whenever you hear they are releasing something new, already frothing over how good it will inevitably be. These bands are no rookies to the music scene, these guys are the fucking music scene.

Honourable Mentions go to Nirvana, Primal Scream, Frank Zappa & The Mothers of Invention, The Ramones, Helmet, Guided By Voices, Arctic Monkeys, Fugazi, Weezer, Violent Femmes, The Jesus & Mary Chain, Joy Division/New Order, Beat Happening, The Stooges, The Drones, Nick Cave (in all incarnations), Girls, Melvins, Jay Reatard, Queens of the Stone Age, Animal Collective, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Sonic Youth, Husker Du,  The Hives,  The Clash, Eddy Current Suppression Ring,  The White Stripes, The Strokes, The UV Race, The Gun Club, Holy Fuck, Modest Mouse, Times New Viking, The Gun Club, The Black Keys, Interpol, Beach House, The Black Angels, Black Sabbath, Cloud Nothings, The Replacements, Blur, Kurt Vile, Radio Birdman,The Bronx Black Flag, Beck, Crystal Castles, The Killers, The Scientists, A Place to Bury Strangers, Bad Religion, Smashing Pumpkins, Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

10. Beastie Boys-What is not to love about the Beastie Boys? Their work revolutionised hip-hop, giving it an edge that would remain solely unto them until the likes of gangsta rap. They were funny, they were self-depracting and they loved attention. On top of this, they added an almost unheard development to the musical element of hip-hop and immersed themselves in samples. Beastie Boys were always forward thinking and progressive, from the start of 1986’s legendary ‘License to Ill’ to 2011’s ‘Hot Sauce Committee Part Two’. R.I.P MCA

9. Thee Oh Sees-Thee Oh Sees can lay claim to being the most diverse and consistently interesting pysch group of the modern age. While other bands, such as the usually excellent Tame Impala and POND might nod off towards the middle of their albums, Thee Oh Sees will always, and I mean always, push through the fog and produce something mind-blowing. A look at any of their albums will explode all pretences of ‘boring’ psychedelic music. There is nothing pretty about Thee Oh Sees: they’re a dirty, drug-ridden, shit-stained band through and through, and yet their presentation is amicable. Thee Oh Sees records will be forever renowned in my collection as being the shit I’ll pull out when someone wants to hear ‘something cool’.

8. Regurgitator- The might fuckin’ ‘Gurge! Legendary Australian bands have come and gone throughout my constant perusing of music. Midnight Oil, The Saints, and Spiderbait have all had their spot in the Ryan sunshine. However, Regurgitator have always stayed there, and I lay that claim to their intense ambition of always coming up with something different. The first three albums, ‘Tu-Plang’, ‘Unit’ and ‘Art…’ are pure genius, and remain engaging artifacts of 90’s alt-rock, something Stone Temple Pilots and Bush can’t lay claim to. Although they might have dipped out in the mid-2000’s, their push back to ambitious and awesome music with 2011’s ‘SuperHappyFuntimesFriends’ cements their place as one of my favourite bands of all time. Seeing and meeting the band at the recent Groovin’ the Moo festival was a dream come true.

7. The Cramps- The awkward mushing together of swampy rock, gore-tinged horror, gothic appearance and 60’s rockabilly should never have made it past the planning stage. But that’s where The Cramps come in. With Lex Interior, their fearless leader, The Cramps led an army of crazy, wide-eyed and abused albums for over 30 years. Each effort The Cramps have put out remains a creepy, black hole of mucus and awesome, every second track becoming your favourite Cramps track. Heroin-riddled and rattling with self-oblivion, The Cramps are a band that should never have existed, but thank fuck they did. Imagine a world with no ‘Human Fly’, ‘Bikini Girls With Machine Guns’, ‘Goo Goo Muck‘ or “Can’t Find My Mind’? What would anyone do?

6. Gorillaz- Everyone likes Gorillaz, but they haven’t listened to them in a long time. Fucking chuck on any of the first three albums (I like to think the 4th one doesn’t really count) and prepare to engage in a long, warped drive through Damon Albarn’s menal pysche. So many influences are drawn upon, into what is essentially a hip-hop project, that what comes through is an amazing pool of musical prowess, like some ‘Tree of Life’ shit. Put on the self-titled, ‘Demon Days’ or ‘Plastic Beach’ albums and remind yourself what it’s like to listen to really, really solid music with no faults.

5. The Black Lips- Flower punks, rock n roll musketeers, troublemakin’ no-gooders with guitars; call The Black Lips what you like, the only conclusion that you’re likely to draw upon is amazing. Although they don’t really provide a virtuosity to their music like the rest of the artists on this list, The Black Lips provide a generic service with unique results. They bang out more or less the same album each time, and yet, you can only feel like it’s the greatest thing you’ve ever listened to. Couple that with the fact that The Black Lips are amongst the best live bands in the world (seriously, these dudes are fucking loose). ‘Bad Kids’, ‘O Katrina!’, ‘Boomerang’, and ‘Elijah’ are just a few of the countless simple delicacies The Black Lips offer that make the world a better place.

4. Ty Segall- Ty Segall is The Who of our generation, the man does not stop making music. In 2012, he came out with three (3!) seperate albums from various projects, all of which were some of the best stuff to come out last year. This year, he’s coming out with another solo album, an album with his band Fuzz, and I believe he’s involved with Sic Alps again, but I’m not 100% sure. Regardless, the man makes fucking loose as music to get loose as to. It’s rock n roll the way it was meant to be played, obnoxiously loud, dreadfully immature, and insanely captivating. Ty Segall is the artist all garage rockers should aspire to be, not in sound, or looks, but just general being. He’s the greatest musician right now, hands down, bar none.

3. Pixies-The Pixies took the world by storm every time they released an album, and with good reason. The Pixies have more good songs than Pitbull has shitty lyrics and the STD’s of any random celebrity train wreck of the moment (think Paris Hilton, Nicki Minaj, Lindsay Lohan etc.) . They never released a bad album, and always maintained a furiously unique energy to every song they laid down. The four albums that the Pixies released will forever be remembered as some of my favourite albums. Any song in their catalogue, from ‘Debaser’, ‘Nimrod’s Son’, and ‘U-Mass’ to ‘Dig For Fire’, ‘Where is My Mind?’ and the unforgettable ‘Hey’ is always an instant hit for me. There is nothing better in the world than a Pixies song.

2. Radiohead- Although, I, like everyone else, was introduced to Radiohead through ‘Creep’, it was the latter albums like ‘The Bends’, ‘OK Computer’, ‘In Rainbows’ and ‘Kid A’ that resonated with me. Not to sound too obvious, but these are flawless, perfect albums, capable of bringing a grown man to tears (guilty), inciting massive sing alongs that envy ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis, and in rare cases, impregnating random women that happen to hear ‘Paranoid Android’, ‘Everything in its Right Place’ or ‘Fake Plastic Trees’. There are too many Radiohead songs to mention about how amazing they are as a band. But yeah, they are my 2nd favourite band of all time.

1. The Flaming Lips-My favourite band of all time, through sheer musical prowess and venture goes to The Flaming Lips. Although not everything they’ve put out has been excellent (i.e collaborations with Ke$ha), the astounding amount of amazing material, and bravery that accompanies their sonic shifts in musical trajection puts them above any other artist in my opinion. From hard-rockers, to psychedelic, to full blown orchestral orgies of sound, The Flaming Lips have done it all, and done it better than anyone else. And blowing minds isn’t the only thing Wayne Coyne and Co. kill at; when they slow it down, the results are scandalous. Think “Race for the Prize’, ‘Waitin’ For Superman’, ‘Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Part 1’ and of course, the inescapable ‘Do You Realize??‘. But the main forte with which The Flaming Lips kick sonic arse is when they wield the ultimate sword of psychedelica (literally the nerdiest thing I’ve ever written). When you’ve got the lush mind-melting audio-acid trip landmark albums like ‘Transmissions from the Satellite Heart’, ‘Telepathic Surgery’, ‘Clouds Taste Metallic’ or ‘Hit to the Death in the Future Head’, no one can doubt your position as the greatest band of all time. I fucking love this band.