But no. I'm moving on up, and so should you.
Although choosing this as my first slice of life after a couple months off is more about desperately diving into the dirt rather than soaring for the sun. Melbourne's purveyors of small town despair The Spinning Rooms released one of the sweatiest, feverish, paranoid killers at the tail end of last year with their eponymous debut (recorded by The Nation Blue/Harmony's Tom Lyngcoln), and it is pure schizophrenic epiphany. I wrote favourably about it a couple weeks ago for The Music - check out that review here - but all I'll say is that this is the real aural equivalent of an Aussie suburban horror. Slug Guts be damned - these boys understand fear and depravity (and the true sinuous power of the saxophone), whether they want to or not. Shit just got real.