PREMIERE: Yes, I’m Leaving – Discard EP


I first discovered Yes, I’m Leaving through a Reacharound from our dearly departed mates at Polaroids of Androids. Since copping a free download of “Four Chorder”, my dedication to Yes, I’m Leaving has been unwavering; they have got to be one of the most intense and unnerving bands in all of Sydney. Every time they play, the release on display is carnal.

It’s been two years since the release of Mission Bulb, the album that “Four Chorder” was taken from, but the band are re-visiting those sessions with a four-track EP of songs that were left off the record. From an outsider’s perspective, it’s hard to figure out why, because each of these songs is the equivalent of Hannibal Lecter peeling your eye out of its socket for a mid-arvo snack. “Discard Your Heart” and “The Thing” stick out as particularly brutal and venomous pieces of work in the YIL canon, blaring as antagonistically as any of the best stuff they’ve done.

However, in the words of YIL’s frontman Billy Burke, it was just a matter of logistics that these songs were left off Mission Bulb. “They were all part of what we wanted on the album but it became apparent that the songs we had lined up for it were a piece that worked as a full length…they just got steamrolled by the stuff that hung on to their sonic tail.”

Although the songs on this Discard EP haven’t seen the light until now, it’s a token to Yes, I’m Leaving’s talent that even the B-sides can cause someone to chew their fingernails to a stump. These aren’t forgotten tracks, just hit singles that never made it.

I cannot recommend any of Yes, I’m Leaving’s material enough – if you see a copy of a record from their catalogue, snap it up, hold it close, and claw at the face of anyone who even remotely looks like they might take it away from you. Furthermore, their live show is bombastic – they’ll be playing the Petersham Bowling Club next Friday, the 27th, with Reverend Jemima and Clive of India. Not only is this an opportunity to watch one of Sydney’s best in action at one of the finest locations in this godforsaken city, but the gig will also act as a platform to discuss mental health in a casual manner, a topic that’s very close to the band, and myself. If you or someone you know would like to freely talk about mental health issues with people that aren’t snoopy counsellors, but rather just a few legends in a band who know firsthand what they’re talking about, then come down, and check it out.


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.

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: Yes, I’m Leaving – Slow Release

Before I start this review, I want to state that Yes, I’m Leaving are amongst the Top 5, if not the best, punk band in Sydney. I mean, these guys basically rule Black Wire Records with an iron fist, and have one of the most devoted cult followings, with hordes attending each show, each kitted out in a debacle of denim, piercings and leather. If you haven’t heard of them, or seen them before, stop what you are doing (yes, stop reading this sentence), and check them the fuck out.

Why? Why are Yes, I’m Leaving such a force of god-defying power? Well, besides being sadistically underrated and having a killer name that was probably inspired by the reactions of playing Lightning Bolt to people who think Tame Impala and OK GO are badass, YIL have the power to capture a sonic fury not seen since Fugazi. There’s those staccato beats, crunching bass stampedes, and wailing howls that cause dogs to prick their ears in curiosity, and everyone of decency to flock to whatever audio device is blaring such amazing music.

On their fourth record, YIL elevate themselves to a strangely mid-fi territory, but before anyone gets on their high-horse, all this means is that the punch and kick of the band comes through that much clearer. This isn’t a shitty case of having a band’s fuzz ripped from underneath them, leaving nothing but an indie-rock facade that is more bland than a 9-5 office job at a vanilla factory. Now, the bass lines are easily traced, each note hammering down with a punctual and forthright aggression that was always hiding just behind Yes, I’m Leaving’s full potential.

The case for Yes, I’m Leaving’s status as “HOLY FUCK THIS BAND WILL BECOME A GLOBAL LANGUAGE” begins with the first track, “One”. You heard this thing? YOU FUCKING HEARD THIS THING??? THIS THING WILL RIP YOU APART, SHIT IN YOUR CHEST, AND NOT EVEN APOLOGISE, FOR THIS BEING IS AN INCENDIARY FORCE OF NATURE! There’s nothing that “One” won’t do to ensure that the skin melts off your face, leaving nothing ut a chargrilled, sizzling but fantastically stoked head. It rips, roars and demolishes all in it’s path, and if you;ve had the luck of seeing this in a live format, you’ll know how much this track can cause the unprepared to double up in pain and pleasure.

Another thing that needs to be stated about this record is that there is no filler. NONE! Every song is just as pulverising as the least, losing no time with offsides or bullshit. Yes, I’m Leaving now that each and every moment of their 30 minute record is a moment that can be spent bending the definition of amazing, and turning non-believers into full-blown fanatics. It’s hard to pick favourites on the record, as every time I put on a track, it instantaneously becomes “my new favourite”. However, for the sake of “journalism” and #SINGLES, tracks like “Salt”, “Alchemy”, “Funny” and “Puncher” all stand out that little bit more. These are songs that hurtle with the same velocity of Gandalf chasing the Balrog down the gateway to hell, and they also allow for that slight Australian accent to make sure that all those who will become disciples of the YIL will know exactly where they come from.

There’s so much more I fell I can say about Yes, I’m Leaving’s new record. The lyrics that incinerate all in their path, the powerful knockouts of the music, the way that these three Sydney musicians have unlocked a sacred power that honestly defies what “sound” can be defined as. They break so many rules and eardrums with their music, that it is hard to imagine going back to listening to bands that can’t be described as ‘cauterwauling hellbeasts’. With this album ‘Slow Release’, Yes, I’m Leaving have just cemented their place as Australian punk legends. In the near future, people will be talking about assasinating presidents so they can hear shitty bootlegs of this album. Make sure you’re not one of them, and buy one now.

Get yourself a pre-order of this soon-to-be-legendary record here. And when Yes, I’m Leaving announce launch shows, get yourself along to AT LEAST one of them.

New: Yes, I’m Leaving-One

Post-Thursday hangovers have got me, and every other fun loving Sydney-sider, in a state of total trauma. Thankfully, there’s a cure for that, with the ear-splitting new track from Sydney’s best punk trio Yes, I’m Leaving. And I do mean, Sydney’s BEST PUNK ROCK TRIO! And I don’t mean cure, as if you’re hungover, this song will literally rip your head apart like Cthulu deciding he want to gorge himself on your brains.

‘One’ is just as loud, noisy and brilliant as any other Yes, I’m Leaving material that has come before it. The pearl of Yes, I’m Leaving’s music is their aggression, and it’s delivered here like Liam Neeson finding out his daughter has been kidnapped. Couple that with the whiplash staccato of the pounding drums and bass, and you’ve got a song that’ll tear your insides apart faster than an orgy of Chestbursters.

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!

Video(s):Batpiss+Yes, I’m Leaving+Snakadaktal+Baio+Convaire+The Stevens

Prepare your mind for more music videos than a month of MTV. There’s kind of a flow here, from in-ya-face, to indie-darlings to finishing off with some slacker royalty. Also, every clip included in this list are really, really, insanely great, so make sure you waste your bandwidth on every one of them! Enjoy!

Batpiss-Loose Screws

There’s only one way to say this, and that is that Batpiss are fucking loose. They are more insane than a Cypress Hill crowd during ‘Insane In the Brain’. That’s pretty insane. Well, for a band that has a sound alike to a bludgeoning mythical howl, a video clip of similar mind-blowing aptitude should accompany such a thing. That it does, with the clip for ‘Loose Screws’ showing what happens once a guy that you don’t want to fuck with gets fucked with for the last time. Hint: He goes on a stabbing spree. Extra, extra, extra fucking props for the homage to King Parrot’s ‘Shit On the Liver’.

Yes, I’m Leaving-Four Chorder

I’ve raved and I’ve ranted about Yes, I’m Leaving till I’ve been sore in the dick, but here I am again, raving on about Sydney’s best punk band. This time is with good cause, as they’ve just released a clip to go along with probably the best song from their best and most recent record ‘Mission Bulb’. It shows the Yes, I’m Leaving boys in their natural habitat, causing a ruckus in an empty garage/basement/bomb shelter.

You can catch Yes, I’m leaving along with two fucking great bands, Claws & Organs and Royal Chant, supporting a band called  Sounds Like Sunset. They’ll be playing Friday, November 15th at Brighton Up Bar, and you should go, unless you’re going to the Franz Ferdinand show, in which case you’re OK man, you’re OK.

Snakadaktal-Fall Underneath

The latest dreamy single from Snakadaktal’s stellar debut record is ‘Fall Underneath’. The video treatment for this one takes a soft, retro tone, along the lines of the original Miami Vice shenanigans (not the Colin Farrell/Jamie Foxx collab that the world definitely didn’t need). There’s a lot of butt slapping, swimsuit snapping and fearful looks over the shoulder at moustachioed villains, which are things that usually go hand in hand with a porno. But set to the silky tones of ‘Fall Underneath’, you can’t help but just fucking love both the song and the video.


Given how much I rag on about how much I think Vampire Weekend are the most mediocre and unnecessarily praised bands in recent music history, I don’t expect all that many VW fans to be flocking to the site. But Baio, the electronica side-project of Vampire Weekend bassist Chris ‘Yep, you guessed it’ Baio is frankly, fucking amazing. Darting lazers, alien seduction samples, and neon synths all make ‘Mira’ goddamn irresistible. The clip takes the simple approach of ‘What if we made facial features really fucking creepy?’, and sure enough there’s enough manipulated eyes and lips in this video to make a fetishist cum many times over. It’s also really cool for those of us who aren’t Charles Manson weird.

Convaire-Talk in Technicolour

The accompanying clip to that song that I posted a while ago that was really good. You know the one? Oh you don’t? Guess that’s a reflection on all the great music I post, amirite? Anyway, ‘Talk in Technicolour’ by Sydney electro-pop group, Convaire, gives addictive chorus’ a new point of reference, but their video is fucking awesome (awesome…awesome…). That’s right, it is so great, it is its own echo. The guys behind the video are the same ones who’ve done shit with Touch Sensitive and Hayden James, so it was basically going to be legendary from the get-go. You tell me-does an amalgamation of David Arquette and David Tenant re-enacting ‘Pretty Woman’ with Julia Roberts second cousin, and ending in a grisly death and self-motivated chase scene sound good?

The Stevens-Challenger

Finally, we find ourselves with one of the most promising Australian acts, The Stevens, and their new music video for ‘Challenger’. This track is so slacker, I feel as though Cheech and Chong would tell these guys to hurry the fuck up, which should really speak lengths about how amazing this song is. As for the video, well let’s just say a bunch of beat-up, muddy cars go around a race track in time with the lyrics, ’round and round!’. Talk about a coincidence!

Album Review: Yes, I’m Leaving-Mission Bulb

Finally, I’m going to bring back some punk to this blog. It’s kind of been bogged down with the illustrious scene of garage, and negative reviews of a certain French house duo’s recently disapointingly overhyped album, but the time has come to delve back into the realm of punk. Sydney hasn’t really had a definitive flag-bearer for the punk category as of late. I’m not talking about old school legends like The Hard-Ons, Radio Birdman or The Celibate Rifles, or the awesome garage styled punk of bands like Royal Headache or Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys. I’m talking about the intense, lit up, bonfire kind of punk, that screams and ricochets through your brain at ungodly speeds, and with the fury of a warthog on meth. However, that has all changed with the recent release of Yes, I’m Leaving’s album ‘Mission Bulb’.

As of May 22nd, the boys from Parramatta have just released their third record, and second on Tenzenmen Records, a local label that can’t seem to do bad. If it’s unique, and it’s good, there’s a solid chance it got released on Tenzenmen. If you see the name, and you’re into having your earholes petrified, ensure you grab it. For a bit of context, they’ve released stuff by heroes such as Girls Pissing on Girls Pissing, Hira Hira, and Skip Skip Ben Ben. Not just content with releasing the best of heavy stuff, Tenzenmen also delve into releasing just plain fantastic alternative stuff, as the last band I mentioned will prove. However, Tenzenmen mainly release heavy, expiremntal and punk stuff, and it’s always going to be a thrill ride, one way or another, as ‘Mission Bulb’ proves. Yes, I’m Leaving have been around on the scene for a little while, gigging and honing their craft of Dischord Records-like punk to a nihilistic perfection, and it comes out for sure on the record.

The mention of Dischord above was not a throwaway either. Yes, I’m Leaving certainly contains the drawl and angry drive of bands like Fugazi, Nation of Ulysses or Rites of Spring. Each song on the record pushes forth with a ferocity that only a genuine band like the aforementioned actually possessed. This is an incredibly rare, and beautiful thing to listen to. To actually hear the self-hating and snarling lyrics on ‘Four Chorder’: ‘And as I look in the mirror, I just see my eyes/ the reflection of you that has been compromised’ followed by an undulating, harshly screamed chorus is proof that punk’s not dead. This is all wrapped in a killer Drive Like Jehu-lite riff that hooks the listener with sharp daggers of crazy venom. A pleasure to listen to.

The entire album is like this, just picturesque punk done in slam-dancing, white eyed rage, blaring like the horn of a truck barrelling down on a highway. Every line is sent with the vocal chords straining to their limit, the guitars bleeding a sound of coarse deliverance, unholy and beckoning. The drums crash and force the beat into near oblivion, and the bass is so blazing it’s just a tornado of sound. Lead singer Billy Burke deserves special mention for his nasally sing-song shout; it is this unique voice, as well as the excellent musicianship, that separates Yes, I’m Leaving from the usual punk kerfuckle (not a spelling error), and gives the songs the hurtling-to-a-precipice tone that is rare and very appreciated.

The plunging, razor-edged tone of ‘Mission Bulb’ is a jackhammar to the gonads; a perpetual state of nose-dive affairs that highlights disaster in the most infectious way possible. It’s an untainted record, brimming with noisy capability, catastrophically good, and will give you nosebleeds in the opening chords. It’s the album that punks the world over have all been waiting for, and it’s just Sydney’s luck that they picked up these bruisers. I highly recommend getting this album, so you have something to listen to next time you want to punch a helicopter into dust, because you’re just that fucking mad!

Yes, I’m Leaving are playing in Sydney at The Casula Powerhouse June 7th, and at Black Wire Records June 29th. I’m pretty sure their live show is better than seeing donkeys guillotine Optimus Prime. You can buy ‘Mission Bulb’ and their previous Tenzenmen release ‘Nothing’ for a coupla bucks off their Bandcamp, and their debut is going for free. Enjoy some o’ that gewwwwwwwwd punk.